Let me get this straight — I’m John Green trash, and I’m not afraid to admit it. The Fault in Our Stars was my favourite book for about two years, so much so that I owned three copies of it and was adamant that I’d get an infinity tattoo once I was old enough. Suffice to say that since then my tastes have changed a little, and I’ve realised that nothing says Basic Bitch like having an infinity tattoo with the word ‘love’ written inside it in cursive script. That’s only second-worst to having the words ‘live, laugh, love’ written on your wrist in indelible ink.
Apologies if you have either tattoo. As long as you’re happy, that’s the main thing.
But because I’m John Green trash, I think it makes it even more acceptable for me to bash his books — in the nicest way possible, of course. Since coming to my senses about The Fault in Our Stars, I’ve realised that all of his books are pretty much slight variations of the same thing: someone who thinks they’re quirky but unmemorable falls for a seemingly unattainable human whose flaws are glamorised, and they both manage to learn some trite lesson about life while also recognising the confronting nature of their own mortality.
It’s been a while since I’ve read John’s other books, but I’m going to recap them all for you anyway. Just incase you haven’t read them, for some miracle.Read More »