The Fault in Our Stars

This may be the only novel I've ever read where one of the main characters die and the story still has a truly happy ending. Sure, there are novels where someone dies and there is still a happy element to the end of the story, but nothing like this.

I must say this first, however:

There is simply no way to talk about a novel like The Fault in Our Stars, where all of the main characters have cancer and are dying, even slowly, without giving something away (even accidentally).  Since I had never read a John Green novel before this one, and since I had only heard great things about his work, I really wanted to read this book.  If you are at all like me, if you are interested in reading his work, don't read this post.  There is so much depth to this novel and I really don't want to spoil the surprise unless you already know it.

What immediately popped into my head as I wrote that last paragraph was this: If I really don't want to spoil this book, and I really don't, then why am I going to?  It's a tough question to answer, especially since there is so much about this book I'm not sure I can articulate. But I want to write about it.  I want to dig into its depths and examine the life force I find within its pages, a force that sinks into my core and pulls at my heart.
So if you as a reader don't want things spoiled, stop now.

I'm a high school teacher.  I deal with teenagers all day long.  And in doing do, I hear far more about their lives than I ever wanted to know. I listen to stories about new boyfriends and girlfriends, I occasionally evaluate prom plans, I comfort during breakups, and I accidentally overhear the gross, non-school-appropriate stories that I desperately wish I could un-hear.  (From what my friends tell me, this is normal for teachers to witness, gross or otherwise.)

What I've learned from all these conversations is this: for the most part, teenagers don't have a great handle on love. Occasionally they might -- my brother and I are both married to our high school sweethearts, my in-laws are high school sweethearts too (and they've been married for 35+ years!) -- so I do know it's possible for teenagers in love to work things out well.  But the vast majority of teenage romances won't -- and don't -- make it. They can't: they're teenagers. Their emotions aren't mature enough, their hormones are overactive, and their brains have not yet fully developed the capacity for good judgment and risk analysis. (I'm not saying that I am any better (or that my brother is, or my in-laws are); I'm not. Something about the way my husband and I grew up together worked. I suspect it was more chance and our joint capacity to forgive f*ck-ups than any sort of actual maturity on our part at the time. But that's beside my point.)

I cannot claim ownership of this image; I merely supplanted it from a Google Image Search. I would insert an owner if I could, as this is a perfect imagining of one of the main characters of this novel (combined with a quote) and I am quite jealous of his/her artistic abilities.

The diversion from this teenage inability to deal with love is what stands out about The Fault in Our Stars.  The two many characters, Hazel and Augustus, know they are doomed. They know, going in, that there is no hope, that there is no happy ending for the two of them where their cancers miraculously heal and they get to grow old together. Instead, they face cancer and pain and the kind of death that few should have to face, let alone a teenager. And despite all of this, they do experience love, love that is recognizable to those of us who have grown beyond teenage lust and infatuation and toward the maturity that is required for real love. It makes this novel amazing.

I was suspicious when the love story of the novel started to develop.  After all, the novel has an adult author; there is always the possibility that Green is projecting a level of maturity to his teen characters.  But the story, the characters, they all feel so real that I had no choice but to look past that.

Hazel and Augustus, as you have likely already gathered, are two teenagers whose lives have been 'touched' by cancer. Augustus is currently cancer-free, though minus a leg, and Hazel has a dangerous, spreading form of cancer held at bay by an imaginary drug described by John Green in the afterword as "one that doesn't exist, but he wishes it did" (I'm paraphrasing).  They meet at a support group and quickly bond over a favorite novel, and soon their lives mesh together, two kids who are trying to navigate lives filled with disease and exploration and love
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Like any other couple, Hazel and Augustus plan their lives together -- they discuss their futures, they talk about their dreams and careers, they go on a trip to chase down their favorite author.  Unlike any other young couple, they discuss their funerals, what they want said in their eulogies, what they want done with their bodies.  They don't shy away from the painful topics (topics that sometimes even veteran couples haven't discussed), instead accepting them as inevitable and too-close-for-comfort.  The complication comes when Augustus' cancer returns, a surprise that I saw hinted at but didn't want to admit was coming. As Hazel watches him die -- a fate she knows she too can expect -- she reflects on how unfair it is that their stars are so faulted: that a love like theirs must be cut short. There's nothing cliche about this moment; there's no hint of a whiny teenager bitching about how life isn't fair. Instead, there is mourning, mourning for a happiness that must be tempered by death.

 John Green's ability to look that roadblock in the face and keep writing elevates this novel to the level of Young Adult Classic, in my opinion.

And as I said at the beginning of this post, this remains one of the only novels where a main character dies and there is still a happy ending.  As Augustus dies, a part of Hazel dies with him, even as her own cancer remains in stasis. And incredibly, she misses the moment of his passing, a choice on Green's part that I did not expect. I expected a beautiful bedside moment between the two of them, but like I said, there is nothing cliche about this novel.

Again, I can't take credit for it, but it's a beautiful image of Hazel and Augustus.

After the funeral, Hazel gets a letter from the author she and Augustus visited. Augustus has written to him, asking him to write Hazel the eulogy she deserved and that Augustus felt he could not deliver.  The author, however, felt that Augustus's letter to him would be the perfect eulogy and thus sends it to Hazel.

I think I could probably find the entire letter online somewhere, but I don't want to ruin that too -- it's a beautiful way to end the novel. But what stands out the most to me is this quote from Augustus (post-posthumously) to Hazel:

He ends his letter with this quote, saying that he is okay with giving Hazel the chance to hurt him. The letter then says that he hopes that Hazel is okay with who she's let hurt her, the primary suspect of course being him.  Hazel responds with the last lines of the novel: "I do, Augustus. I do."

There words of course bring to mind the language of marriage, that culmination of love, an experience that they have been denied.  My impression is one of happiness despite the obstacle of death: the language is deeply joyful and mourning.  I am left thinking of Hazel as being happy with the chance she and Augustus had to be together, grateful for what they got.  Their love felt so real, and her struggle to reconcile with what happened seems so real, and yet I overwhelmingly see how grateful she is for her experiences.  The extension of love beyond death is a powerful, amazing possibility.

The class I took last summer (where I first read this novel), suggested a deeper potential in leaving the novel at this moment: this letter may be Hazel's actual eulogy. Perhaps, my classmates suggested, she too has lost her battle with cancer. I see this possibility, but honestly I think that minimizes the emotions that Hazel experiences.  Hazel offers so much for all audiences, for anyone who believes in love, that I have to believe she is still alive at the end to keep that message going.  I was left thinking she is alive but happy with her choices, happy even when knowing that she is next to pass, happy because she understands what her stars have offered her.