I feel like the only person who doesn’t get John Green. By that, I mean I’m not head over heels with his writing. When I read The Fault In Our Stars, I rattled through it – his writing makes it really easy to get caught up in them, and this was my second book.
I can’t make the comparisons that a lot of people have to a particular other book of his, but I can say that while the writing style was still accessible, I kind of… just didn’t care? The boys were fine characters, and for the most part I liked them and they were legit and believable. The honeybunny shit, however, never felt funny. It just felt stupid.
I like the idea of Margo in that her last hurrah of sorts is to transform her childhood friend Quentin into someone confident and brave, and that he inadvertently transformed himself in the process of trying to find her. But I don’t really like Margo.
I’ve thought about it for the last hour, and I like her free spirit and the fact she knows she can’t go home, and she wants to live her life and travel. But I think she’s complex for no reason, with all the clues, and kind of bratty when it comes to a head. Obviously that is moved past, but I don’t know. It’s kind of jarring.
I don’t know. I really got into the search for Margo, but at the same time I didn’t. I did really love this quote, though:
”The fundamental mistake I had always made — and that she had, in fairness, always led me to make — was this: Margo was not a miracle. She was not an adventure. She was not a fine and precious thing. She was a girl.”
It was… nice. I liked the ending, I liked the character growth, but I feel like I’m missing something wonderful about John Green.