The main character, Hazel Grace, 16, has terminal cancer - I can't even remember what kind - but it had spread to her lungs and almost killed her. She was still terminal, but on a experimental drug treatment that stayed the growth, and even shrunk some - leaving her dependent on an oxygen tank, but alive and functioning. She doesn't go to school, has no siblings, attends community college, and once a week support group meetings that she hates. She meets and falls in love with a boy at these meetings who is cancer free after having his leg amputated.
What I liked: So much. The story base has so many built-in plot/drama that I wasn't sure it would work: main character is sick, sad, courageous, loves, loved, dies. But, it was so clever and sweet and beautifully done. I love how things, beliefs, nouns and verbs are turned into titles - proper nouns - a sort of metaphor how illness takes over, and also comical. Like her being busy Having Cancer. Or the how attentive her parents are, but with good humor too: "If you were more trouble than you're worth, we'd toss you out on the streets" (dad), "We'd leave you at an orphanage with a note pinned to your pajamas." (mom). I like how the mother insists on celebrating all "holidays" regular, irrelevant or obsolete: like Cholera Awareness Day, for Bastille Day, or her half birthdays (To which Hazel responds once, "Let me remind you that I am more than thirty-three half years old."). I liked how the pain and suffering was discussed somewhat from a distance. She refers to her breathing problems and her "crap lungs." Describing her de-oxygenated brain, she said: "nothing [my parents] could do to dim the supernovae exploding inside my brain, an endless chain of intracranial firecrackers that made me think that I was once and for all going". It goes on to a short stint in the ICU - it's discussed without to much drama. Doing this, I didn't dwell so much, as reader, on the pain or suffering that was part of her daily experience - but the progression of her life, emotions, and relationships amidst Having Cancer. I love how some of the lowest points were softened by humor - to me, this is the most beautiful writing: "I just don't want my particular life, and also the sky is depressing me, and there is this old swing set out here that my dad made for me when I was a kid." "I must see this old swing set of tears immediately," he said. "I'll be over in twenty minutes."
What I didn't like: The author dove too well into the feelings of death. I'm kind of depressed and worried now. I feel like I have cancer and I'm not sure if I'm torn between Augustus's urgency to make something of himself and Hazel's acceptance that we have little effect not the universe and we'll return to dust. She takes on her father's philosophy: "I think the universe is improbably biased toward consciousness, that it rewards intelligence in part because the universe enjoys its elegance being observed. And who am I, living in the middle of history, to tell the universe that it--or my observation of it--is temporary?" I understand how this could be comforting to some - but to me, it's so lonely. I don't like how it revealed how little I think of life after death - how in spite of believing in heaven and being with Jesus - how it's a distant idea to me, how I can push it aside because I don't have a terminal illness reminding me everyday that this should be my best, or it could be my last.
What I wanted to read: I'm not sure how you can make death or terminal illnesses any easier. She doesn't want to die, and I don't want her to die either. None of the characters had the assurance of faith, and it makes life so heartbreaking and meaningless - even when the author tried to give closure. She/the author concludes with this themselves: "But what we wan tis to be noticed by the universe, to have the universe give a shit what happens to us--not the collective idea of sentient life but each of us, as individuals." And to me, this points to the faith that is missing - a belief in God who gives each life unsurpassable worth.
Quotes: "She seemed to be mostly a professional sick person, like, me, which made me worry that when I died they'd have nothing to say about me except that I fought heroically, as if the only thing I'd ever done was Have Caner."
"You are not a grenade, not to us. Thinking about you dying mades us sad, Hazel, but you are not a grenade. You are amazing. You can't know sweetie, because you've never ad a baby become a brilliant young reader with a side interest in horrible television shows, but the joy you bring us is so much greater than the sadness we feel about your illness."
"Sleep fights cancer."
"Dr. Maria showed up on Friday morning, sniffed around me for a minute, and told me I was good to go."
"Were she better or you sicker, then the stars would not be so terribly crossed, but it is the nature of stars to cross, and never was Shakespeare more wrong than when he had Cassius note, "The fault, dear Brutus, is not in our stars / But in ourselves."
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