As I read John Green’s Looking for Alaska, I couldn’t help but ignore the other chores on my to-do list. Every page kept me hanging on, laughing out loud and yearning for more and more pages of entertainment. The book made me feel genuinely happy and nothing at all like I was reading. I felt I was with Pudge and the Colonel at Culver Creek, smoking the same cigarette and laughing at the same witty jokes. I wanted to be at Culver Creek and secretly regretted not asking my parents to ship me away to boarding school for four years of my life. John Green did a magnificent job of portraying young adults in such a fashion that one can only assume his honesty is genuine.
Unrenowned to me, this cheerfully sharp novel was about a search not for life, but death. I didn’t know this book would take a dramatic turn into the search of why one lively girl would decide to screw it all and find out everything there is to know about the afterlife.
The transition, however from “before” to “after” was, in my opinion, perfect. Yes, I cried when the Eagle announced the death of Alaska, and yes I was angry at Pudge and the Colonel, vocalizing “why didn’t you stopped her???” I was there, and I was mad. However, after I calmed down, John Green brought me back in and kept me dedicated for the last eighty-four pages. “Real” is the only word that comes to mind when I try to describe this novel. I felt at ease with her death, and nervous acceptance to Pudge and the Colonel’s “liking” that Alaska had passed away. Their feelings initially were what we would call a “normal” response to a friend passing; tears, hurt, loneliness, guilt and frustration, but they as time passed, their acceptance of their friend’s death started to grow on me.
When my friend passed away this past year, I was full of sadness that kept being interjected by a feeling of beauty. I was confused that the only sorrow I felt was really towards his family and close friends. I wasn’t sad that he was gone, I was happy for him. I couldn’t get myself to admit that to anyone, and grant it, Alaska had decided to end her own life, unlike my friend who had no control over his passing, but John Green has made that publicly acceptable. I questioned how I felt and wondered if I was some kind of a freak for not being an emotional wreck and wondering “where are the freaking tears???” I was pleased with the subtlety of the ending and look forward to seeing what other novels John Green has in store for the future.
-Lucy
-Lucy
I can relate to your "where are the freaking tears" moment. This past spring I had an uncle that passed, and I accepted it but questioned myself for not being more emotional. I appreciate the way John Green describes a different way of mourning and like Lucy said making it publicly acceptable.
ReplyDeleteOne thing I disagree with a bit in Lucy's post was that the book was a search for death and not for life. It explored death a great deal of course, as well as the gamut of emotions that comes along with it: shock, mourning, and even guilt. However, I think that in the end, Looking for Alaska was indeed a search for life and what gives humans cause for hope even when it seems that there is none and how we are able to keep on living after something as monumental as a friend's death. One moment that resonated with me on this subject is on pp. 213-214 when Pudge and the Colonel decide to drive past the site of Alaska's accident: "...and he wrapped his short arms around me and squeezed tight, so that I felt the heaves of his chest as we realized over and over again that we were still alive. I realized it in waves and we held on to each other crying and I thought, God we must look so lame, but it doesn't matter when you have just now realized, all the time later, that you are still alive." This says to me that what the search was for was indeed life itself.
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