For the forty-first book in the challenge, I read The Fault in Our Stars by John Green, because everyone else was doing it, and also I hate being happy.
Back when I read it, I had no idea it was going to be made into a movie, so I can’t claim any sort of literary superiority in that respect. What I did know is that it was everywhere, and people were fangasming over it, and the e-book was on sale and the stars were right and I just bought it, okay? I don’t have to explain myself to you. I’m an adult. I can do what I want.
If you haven’t read it, well…it’s a hard read. Oh, it’s good, but reading about terminal illness and those who must experience it, their loved ones, and coming to terms with all of it while also trying to grow up is not exactly going to be the next Disney cartoon adaptation. (Studio Ghibli might give it a shot, though they would have to add in some magic furry gnomes or a talking pet or ancient swords or some sort of prophecy involving flying cars.) I had to put it down a few times and chew on the material for a while before I could go back to it.
I gave it 5 out of 5 stars, even though it made me profoundly, uncomfortably aware of Death And Stuff.