This past spring, I checked out The Fault In Our Stars by John Green. I head heard so much about it, was starving for something new, and wanted to give contemporary fiction a second chance (in case you hadn't noticed, I don't read that genre very often). I enjoyed John Green's confidently nerdy persona, and I'd heard his writing style was practically modern Shakespeare. One of our awesome town librarians, Dave, said 'you must return this book with a five page essay on why it's awesome.'
I was obviously excited.
I read it in under a week. And it was good. Not great, mind, but definitely worthy of the italics. The characters were deep, the plot fantastic, and yes, his writing is very good. I believe John Green to be far superior than a lot of other YA writers at the moment. His books are definitely worth a read.
All that being said, I didn't cry. At all. I didn't even feel sad, really. Which I suppose is really, really terrible of me. Everyone else I know who has read it is in absolute tears by the end, and considers it one of the saddest book moments of their lives. But it really didn't do it for me. I don't know why, but I was not moved to tears. The book wasn't great. It was a solid good, but not much more.
I cry every time Boromir dies. I pitifully blubber when Bilbo is informed of Throin's, Fili's, and Kili's deaths. The Boston Jane series put me through major emotional trauma. I feel painfully sorry for Frankenstein. So don't go thinking I don't get emotionally invested in books.
Sorry Nerd Fighteria, sorry John Green, sorry YA fans and the people who rate the New York Times Bestsellers. It wasn't my book. You probably now think of me as an unemotional, Vulcan stoic. So be it.
When was the last time you cried during a book?