Looking for Alaska

Rating: 1 Star

In the end, Looking for Alaska was exactly what I thought it was going to be; a book for the questioning and conflicted young. This has not been the first time I've encountered John Green. For a long time now I have time been a keen follower of him and his brother and I find that what the author generally has to say is both entertaining and interesting. This has also not been the first book of his that I've read. During the hype of The Fault in Our Stars I suppose I caved into peer pressure and finished it off in less than twenty-four hours. My opinion stands the same. John Green has been acclaimed as the “teen whisperer”. He knows the interworking of the young adult mind- that emotional, confusing state where they’re asking the big, tough questions like ‘what is the meaning of life?’ In those regards, John Green creates his protagonists that mirror this perfectly; lonesome characters existing outside the bubble of society. In effect, it’s almost how every teenager views or wishes to view himself. He is the lone main character with the world against him and nobody who really, truly understands. The protagonists usually struggle with intense questions that border the existential, trying to discover the meaning to existence and more often than not, encountering death. For many the book is absolutely relatable, helping teens and young adults alike on the pathway towards coming to terms with their struggling morality and solidifying shaky beliefs. ‘Finally is a character who as just as confused, quirky, and normal as me.’

 At the bottom line, this is not my type of book. It’s not that I find that I cannot connect with the character, which John Green himself has stated that a good book should not be synonymous to being relatable, but that I dislike what the book seems to be saying. The story is bland with characters that are as colorful as male versions of Bella Swans. The plot is extremely melodramatic. But what I dislike primarily about the book is the egotistical air that seems to exude from it. Creating a character that is unsure of himself, who is struggling to find a meaning and a purpose to life, living outside the construct of school is not new or inventive. It’s tiring and trying.

I know that I spend a lot of time voicing my dislike for kids who are angsty and pretentious. I dislike kids who throw around titles of classics, I dislike kids who continuously think about life and death, and I dislike kids who are dissatisfied with life and try to seek a greater perhaps. To me it has and always did, sound phony. And while every human being can relate to such a thing -being socially awkward, lonely, and a confuse kid who doesn't even understand a fraction of the world- I also think that kid is a bit of a brat. Because while all kids are silly and stupid and we all have these questions, it’s nothing new or special. I think it’s narcissistic to think we are that lonely sad kid who loves literature, is quirky, and deeply lost.  We are all a bit like that. Me included.

But I don’t ever indulge that type of thinking. My life, lives in general, should not be a film on a corroded old reel. It’s tiring and boring and unenjoyable. Our lives are so much more than a collection of faded black and white images projected onto a white bed sheet. I refuse to mute the colors of my existence.

As one would have it, reading Looking for Alaska made me never want to fall in love or do any of the ‘adventurous’ teenage mischief that is featured throughout the book. I felt… repulsed. Everyone seemed so overwhelmingly controlled by their emotions and unable to separate themselves to look ahead that many of the actions of the protagonist felt like he was under a disease. And if that’s what love is, I hope to never encounter it.

In the end, I’m tired of seeing trailer after trailer of black and white images. The books I love have vivacity and creativity. It doesn't have to be magical and it doesn't have to be happy, but I want to see individuals who aren't stuck in a pool where the drain leads to depression.

And while I hold this opinion, I think it is important to note that here I am, having read the book and writing about it. And, out of the many books I could have read and could have written my thoughts on, it is this book that I am writing about. The book is written plainly, easily, and moves quickly. For its audience it is a perfect fit and the author has absolutely earned his title as the “teen whisperer.” And so to some extent, there is some merit to the novel.