I listened to the soundtrack of the Broadway musical this afternoon, and it helped me connect with the book better...but I shouldn’t have needed to do that.

Maybe it’s because I’m middle-aged? Or was a therapist? I saw this story from the point of view of a child’s entire personhood and agency being hijacked, and it weirded me out so much it was hard to go along with the ride. But when I listened to the same story through song, I could hear, in the lyrics of Evans apology (which was not truly in the book) how Evan got swept in this thing that was bigger than he was and it gave him what he didn’t have—a nuclear family and the girlfriend he assumed he could never get on his own. It’s wasn’t his motive, but it was an after affect. That plot point was very clear in the musical but not in the book.

Plus the added storytelling device of the ghost in the novel was not a good choice at all, in my opinion—I found it jarring. The reader could have learned the same details in a more fluid fashion.

The final, painful truth about Evan’s fall from the tree—that it was accidentally on purpose—was stepped on in the novel, to used stage language. I read it and kept going and then had to pause to realize what I had read.

Finally, I really felt like the fact that Miguel and Connor were dating was hidden at the end from Zoe—and by extension, her parents—as a final gift. In this day and age? Really? Evan is supposedly coming clean completely, and...that’s how it ended? No bueno.

Musical, from only hearing it: 4
Book: 3, unless that ending...? Can’t check, because I have returned it to the library.

My main problem with this book was that my professional mind kept pulling me out of the story, proclaiming, "Alaska's bipolar". I'd mutter, "Yes, yes, now hush," and it would insist, "But she is, look how she--" and then I'd have to smack it.

Edit: After much thought (and reading another John Green novel), I've realized that, no, it wasn't me, it was the writing. Her bipolar disorder was being telegraphed so loudly that it distracted from my reading the book.

Writing this review saddened me a little. I have some young friends, who never forget to be awesome, who love this book. I don't want to hurt their feelings, and, frankly, I really wanted to like this book.

I made comments on Goodreads as I read this book, which is not a normal habit for me. The truth is that I wanted to like this book--and I didn't.

Hazel's one-sided slam of Maslow's hierarchy of needs bothered me, as a counselor. My clients, who live in survival mode, are not lesser people because how they're going to pay the phone bill this month temporary blocks any desire for self-actualization. When you don't feel safe and secure, you can't grow. I know Hazel's a kid, and her story is first-person, so there is no dissenting position, but now millions of nerdfighters think that Maslow was a destroyer of awesome, when the opposite is true. Perhaps Green should have pointed out more readings on [a:Abraham Maslow|5174706|Abraham Maslow|http://www.goodreads.com/assets/nophoto/nophoto-U-50x66.jpg] in his author's note.

The "literal"/"actual" recurring joke/theme was annoying. I see what you did there--the first time, the fifth time, the hundredth time. When a theme jerks the reader out of the story's flow, repeatedly, it loses its point.

Also, when a boy repeatedly ignores your wishes--call me Hazel/okay Hazel Grace/Just Hazel/whatever you say, Hazel Grace--it's not cute, and it's not endearing.
When a boy doesn't give you information you need before you decide to have sex with him, it's not thoughtful, and it's not romantic. It's a violation.

The rest of my problems with this novel lie in hypocrisy. I know that's a heavy accusation, but bear with me.

1. Hazel and Gus rail against platitudes, encouragements, and anyone's attempt to help (re: all the mocking of the group leader), they spoke to and about each other in the same platitudes. Different words, same intent. Criticisms about the high-handed language are plentiful; my main problem is that even the smartest teen doesn't speak in Proclamations, capital-P. It seemed that Hazel and Gus were enunciating to Reach the Back Row, when they were just supposed to be two kids trying to deal with cancer diagnoses. It's not that Hazel and Gus don't like encouragements; they only dislike the encouragements they didn't either compose or choose from one of Norton's Anthologies.

2. I just saw John Green, just today, pull a Peter Van Houten on one of his fans. This fan asked, on Twitter, what Miles' ([b:Looking for Alaska|99561|Looking for Alaska|John Green|http://photo.goodreads.com/books/1327869663s/99561.jpg|919292]) last words would be, and Green told her that he had no idea about anything other than in the novel itself, and refused to answer the question further. Did I miss that Van Houten was supposed to be Green's poking fun at himself?

3. John Green apparently was very upset about this book's spoilers on the web, yet this books spoils the entire plot--and ending--of the movie 300.

I feel I need to end this review with the notice that I do know what it's like watching a child die. My brother was born sick, and spent the next seven years dying. So please don't tell me that I don't understand what being inside a family like Gus' or Hazel's is like.