The Fault in Our Stars

At the very beginning of The Fault in Our Stars, the protagonist makes a metalinguistic comment about her favorite novel: “it’s not a cancer book, because cancer books suck.”John Green’s The Fault in Our Stars indeed isn’t a book about cancer but a romance populated by characters who must face the prospect of death every day. The difference between genres is simple: instead of being dominated by melancholy, the story is first and foremost touching.

Hazel Grace is a girl with thyroid cancer who, during one of her support group meetings, encounters a boy who doesn’t hesitate to invite her to watch a movie with him on the very same day. His name is Augustus Waters, a handsome, cool young man who has lost one leg due to osteosarcoma.

The novel briefly plays with the self-inflicted limitations some people deal with when they want to invite others to a date, presenting the situation with a comedic approach that even mocks the main problem of the immediacy of Augustus’ request: “I hardly know you, Augustus Waters. You could be an ax murderer.” It is a pity, then, that the narrative doesn’t explore the subject further, quickly moving on to other matters.

Hazel and Augustus’ relationship, due to their illnesses, is invariably guided by the prospect of death, with each one facing the imminent event in their own way. While she sees herself as a “potential grenade” and worries about the damage she will do to other people with her death, preferring to spare them from the pain by staying distant from them, Augustus acts in the “before it’s too late” mentality, trying to take advantage of the time he has left in the world in the best way possible.

The counterpoint between these ideas builds the novel’s main theme: it is not because a relationship is bound to end that it should never begin. The story plays with the fatalism inherent to the main characters’ medical condition to criticize ideas similar to the one raised by Hazel’s friend, who ended her relationship with a boy to prevent future pain. All relationships will end one day end, after all, even if it’s by death doing the couple part. So, isn’t it foolish to avoid living through one and missing all the fun in the middle? The key to any relationship is always realizing that the good easily outweighs the bad, that your partner more than makes up for all the bits of suffering the relationship will inevitably cause. In other words, it’s about accepting the eventual pain and enjoying the ride.

Since “death” is the novel’s driving force, it’s fitting that the narrative be imbued with a sense of urgency: here, revelations are delivered suddenly and the events are described quickly. At the same time, in order to prevent the subject from turning the narrative too gloomy – this isn’t a cancer book, after all –the characters treat their illnesses with an amusing mix of humor and irony: the melancholy is constantly broken with comic relief so that the romance remains in the spotlight. Hazel, for example, often talks about the tragedies in her life with a dark sense of humor: “I told Augustus the broad outline of my miracle: diagnosed with Stage IV thyroid cancer when I was thirteen. (I didn’t tell him that the diagnosis came three months after I got my first period. Like: Congratulations! You’re a woman. Now die.) It was, we were told, incurable.” She even calls her oxygen concentrator Philip “because it just kind of looked like a Philip.”

It’s undeniable, however, that the main characters in The Fault in Our Stars appear incredibly generic when we analyze their hobbies and routines. Hazel loves America’s Next Top Model, for example, and usually goes out with her best friend to buy clothes. Meanwhile, Augustus enjoys playing video games and watching “violent movies” with his friend, and he even played basketball before his illness. But it’s their inner dreams and conflicts that stand out: Hazel is a voracious reader of books who, even though intelligent, still remains naive enough to believe that her favorite author will tell her what happens to the characters of a novel after the ending. Augustus is a boy who likes to believe he lives in a world of metaphors, who likes to equate love with a cry in a vacuum, and who is more afraid of being forgotten than dying. So, if at first glance they seem to be generic, shallow characters, after we spend some time with them, we discover fascinating individuals.

There’s a good attention to detail regarding the main theme, too: there’s an intermittent presence of death in the various places where the couple dates, for example. So, when they kiss in Anne Frank’s house, it may be weird and insensitive, but it’s also thematically fitting. Another important element is the transition in the way Hazel calls her boyfriend – after a revelation in the middle of the book she goes on to use his nickname Gus much more than his full name – and how that change reinforces the extent of the boy’s physical fragility: if before he was called by the same name of a Roman emperor, now it’s simply Gus. It’s true, however, that such elements are not at all subtle in the narrative, to the extent that the characters themselves point out their meaning just in case we fail to perceive them ourselves.

After all, the narrative in The Fault in Our Stars has its share of… faults. All characters speak in the same way, for example, they make the same jokes and are obsessed with metaphors. Although they’re presented with completely different personalities, their dialogue lacks identity. Just notice how everyone jokes about the illness they have – like their friend Isaac –, plays with the way people present themselves (“Just Hazel,” “Alison My Nurse“), and has their share of moments as a philosopher, going on and on with long metaphorical analogies and deep insights. The moment that even a waiter approaches the protagonist and asks if she wants to “drink more stars” by offering champagne, we can but reflect if Augustus really does have a good reason to believe he lives in a world of metaphors. The exception is Peter Van Houten, Hazel’s favorite author, who, in addition to using an elaborate vocabulary, also sounds more bitter than the others.

The narrative also suffers from some more eccentric scenes that don’t quite land, such as when the couple is watching Zack Snyder’s 300 on a plane and Augustus begins to shout euphorically “Dang!” and “Fatality!” whenever any character dies, something that no human being over the age of twelve would do on an airplane (I hope…).

If The Fault in Our Stars isn’t a book about cancer, it’s because it focuses not on the struggle itself but on the love story behind it – and, despite the occasional… faults (I can’t help it), it largely succeeds.

February 19, 2025.

Originally published in Portuguese on March 15, 2015.