As of last night I should no longer be allowed to pick out my own books. Well, that’s not exactly true, because the book I finished last night (and started on Tuesday–just sayin, that’s a fast turnaround time) was not something I completely picked out for pleasure.


I’m in a Literature for Adolescents class this semester, for a reason I still cannot figure out. I thought it was going to be a critical approach to young adult novels, but turns out it’s a class for pre-service teachers. Remember that one time I went to graduate school to avoid becoming a teacher? Yeah…. Anyway, I’m sticking with the class in the off chance I decide to go into teaching. This course, I believe, will prove useful. One component of the class is to read eight books of our choosing and write reviews on them. We will then share all these reviews with the rest of the class and voila! we will have a couple hundred book reviews for our future (nonexistent) classrooms.


I just finished my second free-read last night–The Fault in Our Starsby John Green. It has received some high praise since it’s release earlier this year and I


thought it sounded like a great book. And it was. Oh, yes it was. Simply put, Green is a really good writer. If I were a teenager I would say, “It’s, like, whatever.” Which is adolescent, hormone-raging code for “::fist pump:: GAH! This book is excellently phenomenal!!!!!”


I just don’t even want to start in on the plot summary, because honestly it’s too fresh. I mean, I was weeping last night. Not completely out of sadness, but out of hope. Like, you cannot understand the hope of teenagers until you are removed from that (may I say “somewhat horrific”?) stage of your life. Kids will believe anything is possible. And it’s beautiful. Just unbelievably inspiring. In essence, the story is about a sixteen year old with cancer who falls in love with a boy who has recently been announced cancer-free. The novel follows their inevitable relationship and their search for answers in a chaotic and admittedly painful world.

Truly though, I was an emotional mess last night. It looked like was decoupaging with tissues. Not. Pretty. I forced myself to stay in my room so as not to frighten my roommate.


If you’re interested in the novel find your way here or here to learn more about it, and then get yourself to the library (what’s up library card?!) and check it out. You will be so happy. Promises promises. And then we can have a book club : )


By the way, since I’m reading all this Young Adult Lit now there’s a slight chance that particular voice will weasel it’s way onto the blog.   HA H! not really, jk. LOLz


2 thoughts on “Crybaby

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