There is a striking point throughout all of John Green’s texts, one that is addressed heavily through all his characters despite their different walks of life. Each seems to grapple with what it means to have a meaningful life, and how they could possibly leave their mark on the world. This is true for many coming of age stories, but is especially poignant in The Fault In Our Stars because these characters have no time to leave their mark despite their desire to (I suppose this is really just true for Augustus in some ways, but stick with me).
I don’t think Green leaves us with an answer either, as much as I'd like him to. I think this conclusion is open to interpretation, but only for generalizations at best. He pokes and prods his readers, who are, similarly to his characters, at the point in their lives where they are thinking about the unwritten potentials of their future. But once again, this is not a unique aftertaste from a young adult novel, yet I think Green manages to turn the trite meaningful.
There’s something unnerving about each of his books for me, and in each an undertone about how futile each of our lives can all seem despite our attempts to make them meaningful. But then again, The Fault in Our Stars is perhaps so well liked because it refuses to offer false comfort; I really shouldn’t expect to find comfort about my future in a book about dying (and love, and life, and etc.), but I do.
I think John Green wants to matter, and I think he has succeeded in the number of lives he has touched through his readership. Yet, each time I read something of his I can’t help but think he feels the same as I do, and wonders if what he’s doing with his short time here is worth it. If a man this accomplished in my eyes still seems to think this, what reverie can I take as I sit on my couch taking in his success and noting his footprint on the world? But I think this may be the entire point of his novels when taken as a whole: how are you going to matter, and what does mattering mean to you?
After all, this is a better fate than ignorant bliss, and to quote from TFIOS: “easy comfort isn’t comforting.”
I don’t think Green leaves us with an answer either, as much as I'd like him to. I think this conclusion is open to interpretation, but only for generalizations at best. He pokes and prods his readers, who are, similarly to his characters, at the point in their lives where they are thinking about the unwritten potentials of their future. But once again, this is not a unique aftertaste from a young adult novel, yet I think Green manages to turn the trite meaningful.
There’s something unnerving about each of his books for me, and in each an undertone about how futile each of our lives can all seem despite our attempts to make them meaningful. But then again, The Fault in Our Stars is perhaps so well liked because it refuses to offer false comfort; I really shouldn’t expect to find comfort about my future in a book about dying (and love, and life, and etc.), but I do.
I think John Green wants to matter, and I think he has succeeded in the number of lives he has touched through his readership. Yet, each time I read something of his I can’t help but think he feels the same as I do, and wonders if what he’s doing with his short time here is worth it. If a man this accomplished in my eyes still seems to think this, what reverie can I take as I sit on my couch taking in his success and noting his footprint on the world? But I think this may be the entire point of his novels when taken as a whole: how are you going to matter, and what does mattering mean to you?
After all, this is a better fate than ignorant bliss, and to quote from TFIOS: “easy comfort isn’t comforting.”