Out, Out Brief Candle!
A Review of John Green’s The Fault
in Our Stars
I have found it best to write responses to books immediately
upon finishing them, while recollections and impressions are fresh. I am, alas,
unable to do that with The Fault in Our Stars
by John Green because this blog did not exist when I completed reading the
book. This book was selected by our students last year as one of four they
could choose from for our summer reading assignment. It has been immensely
successful as a best-seller, and it has garnered much critical acclaim.
I must say at the outset, I did not enjoy
reading this book. I did, however, benefit from reading it because it allowed
me to vicariously enter the physical, emotional and spiritual suffering of
young cancer victims. (I only wish that sixteen-year-olds actually spoke as
these do.) I am deeply concerned, however, with the book’s underlying
nihilistic despair, or at best, its agnostic or even atheistic existential
angst*(however hip and snarky it may be in presentation). The dust jacket
boasts that this book is “irreverent” and “raw,” and it certainly lives up to
that. On the positive side, however, the book does invite (indeed, it demands)
readers to construct (or to access) their own belief systems regarding the
significance of the individual, the meaning and purpose of suffering, and death
and the afterlife. It is far less “insightful” in enabling readers to
accomplish this, and may even be said to imply that such a task is, ultimately,
impossible.
Hazel is frustrated
with the author of her favorite book (which has become a sacred text of
nihilism for her) because he ends the book in mid-sentence to illustrate the
death of its lead character from cancer (a postmodern trope as it applies to
what happens with Hazel, herself, in this narrative). Augustus complains that
this violates an unwritten contract between author and reader. Green,
effectively, does the same thing with his book: after leading us on a fruitless
quest for the meaning of life (a disappointing trip to Holland to visit the
author and seek answers to what becomes of the characters in Hazel’s book), he
leaves us with Hazel reading a previously unseen communication from Augustus,
following Augustus’s funeral. The only hint that anything may have changed is
the author’s switch to the present tense in Hazel’s final comments (Green makes
much of this in his interview, cited below). This is strongly reminiscent of
Matthew Arnold’s poem “Dover Beach,” in which, after bemoaning the loss of
religious faith, he is left with only the consolation of a flesh-and-blood (unnamed
in the poem) romantic partner (thought to be his wife). Hazel and Augustus may
be said to have had some sort of epiphany in their relationship, which
certainly did add meaning and purpose to their brief lives, despite the
continuance of their suffering (Augustus has an unexpected relapse of his
cancer after the romance begins). The broader question, however, remains: is
this all there is? At one point, the two observe young children playing inside
of a large skeleton sculpture in a park. As Augustus observes, “the symbolic
resonances are endless.” Is this, then, the ultimate message—life is a brief
game in a grim setting, with no ultimate meaning?
A
fascinating and highly informative (if
lengthy) interview with the author may be found at the following address:
Jesus
entered into human suffering in a personal way. He did not eliminate suffering,
but he overcame it and made a way for it to become redemptive. In John 16:33,
he said “In the world you have
tribulation, but take courage; I
have overcome the world.” Some excellent books have been
written recently to address what philosophers call “The Problem of Evil,” (a
systematic response to this problem is called a “theodicy,” and several such
well-known defenses have arisen over the years) and one of the best is by Randy
Alcorn (an excellent author, in his own right), If God is Good, Why do We Hurt? (available used on Amazon for as low as
$7.00):
And, of
course the ultimate solution to The Problem of Evil is found in the afterlife
He made possible.
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*Note: These terms are defined on my website