nicoletteaudrey:

Never have I cried so much over a book.

Nicolette finished TFiOS and Cazandra is reading it next. 

SPREADING THE GOOD WORD!

fishingboatproceeds:

I was so tempted to actually curse, tumblr! So tempted that I just split an infinitive talking about how tempted I was.

Anyway, the New York Times Book Review has reviewed The Fault in Our Stars, saying that it is a blend of melancholy, sweet, philosophical, and funny,” and that “[Green] shows us true love… and it is far more romantic than any sunset on the beach.”

omg i’m going to order my copy now! i have an amazon giftcard ALL IS WELL IN THIS WORLD!

YES!

hungryhungryhapaa replied to your post: First of all, when I started reading The Fault in…

what’s it aboot?

It’s about Hazel, who is 16 years old and dying of thyroid cancer. It’s also about Augustus, who is 17 and in remission from bone cancer. And their friend Isaac, who is about to go blind from an improbable eye cancer. It’s also about a book and an author and Amsterdam. It features a lot of cancer and life and love and makes you laugh and cry within the same paragraph. 

I’m glad I have work today, which gives me something to do other than think of TFiOS. And I’m glad that I have Game of Thrones, which is quite different from TFiOS, to distract from my oh so tender feelings. And I’m glad there’s tea.

Will I ever recover?

First of all, when I started reading The Fault in Our Stars earlier this evening, I assumed that I would be reading it slowly over a week’s worth of bedtimes. I didn’t realize that TFiOS would be a book that demands to be read. And so here I am at 2:40 in the morning, having finished the book and with no tears left to shed and no hope of sleeping anytime soon because every book read is its own little piece of infinity, and you can’t just knock out post-infinity. So I’m just gonna curl up in bed and feel these feelings out. This was John’s best, I think, and he wrote sentences in this book that made my chest constrict and started a throbbing in my heart that jumped to my shoulders and traveled down my arms and trailed through my fingers until all I could feel was that ache. My goodness.

You can’t make people cry less than 60 pages in. That’s against book rules.