Because I have a friend who had read The Fault... before, I was more inclined to read that book. I forced myself to wait, though and opened up Dracula instead. Well, the aforementioned book got a little dry after a while (it's interesting now, but in my half-awake just-got-away-from-BCC state it definitely wasn't my best literary choice) and so I resolved to read the other book instead.
Oh. My. Gosh.
I love John Green's writing style. I really do.
There's something about it... It's witty, and intelligent, and funny in all the right places while still holding that lovely teenager-ish bite of sardonicism. Needless to say, I read two chapters last night, and the other twenty-two this evening.
I'll repeat myself: Oh. My. Gosh.
Hazel... and Augustus... and Isaac... and, and, and... alsdjposidfngalsdknpiuasndfoijfg'[asdouhnfa;sldf.
IT'S JUST SO FREAKING PERFECT, AND FLAWED, AND AWFUL AND AMAZING AND HEART BREAKING AND BEAUTIFUL AND I LOVE IT AND IT ALL IN ONE BIG MESS.
I'm pretty sure I cried for at least the last ten chapters. ...Maybe twelve. I stopped paying attention to chapter numbers around the time Agustus came into the picture. (Chapter two, if you were wondering.)
So. Basically. If you need to cleanse your system of tears, I suggest you read this book. My eyes are still puffy, and my dad says that I have puffy-crying-Filipino-nose going on.
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