Some months back I blogged about The Fault in Our Stars, by John Green. I absolutely loved this book. I went in search of everything else the author has written, and with another title down, I have not been disappointed. Green's 2005 debut novel Looking for Alaska was about as good a youth novel as I've ever read.
It's almost impossible to write about this book without spoiling a major plot reveal. I loved the way the author managed this - it damn near took my breath away - and I don't want to deprive anyone else of that experience. So if you can manage to find this book without reading or hearing of the central premise, go for it. If the premise already has been spoiled for you, but you like a good teen read, go for it anyway.
The brilliance of Looking for Alaska lies in one Miles Halter, a narrator-descendant of Salinger's Holden Caulfield and Russell Banks' Bone, a witty, sweet, self-deprecating searcher, a misfit experiencing the joy of finding belonging, a teenager experiencing the pain and joy of love, sex, and loss. Miles is one of the most authentic and memorable teen narrators I have encountered in a long time.
On one level, Looking for Alaska is a teenage comedy, chock full of pranks and capers. At the same time, it deals with all the biggest existential questions - what is our purpose in life? what happens when we die? - as well as the very important, very ordinary questions of friendship, love, and self-acceptance.
A while back, I wrote about Victor Frankl's Man's Search for Meaning. By happy coincidence, one could say that Looking for Alaska is Man's Search of Meaning in adolescent novel form. Somehow John Green manages to weave it all together in a way that feels natural and authentic, and never preachy.
It's funny, sweet, and heartbreaking. Read it.
Perhaps the second book of a trilogy is destined to be a let-down. Between the sharp knockout of the beginning and (we hope) the stunning wrap-up of the conclusion, the second book must keep the suspense and excitement going, without peaking too early. It must function as a bridge, while also standing alone as a complete novel. It's a tall order.
So while I was somewhat disappointed in Catching Fire, the second book of The Hunger Games trilogy, it's still a very solid novel. It was only a let-down by comparison with the first book, which I absolutely loved.
This book, too, is difficult to write about without spoiling. I'll give you one bit, out of context.
Our heroes Katniss and Peeta attend a party in the Capitol, a scene of conspicuous consumption so extreme it rivals anything we've heard about ancient Rome, anything the Victorians could have dreamt up, or anything you've read about a profligate celebrity yacht. And like the storied vomitorium of ancient Rome, the Capitol frolickers drink a special liquid, to make themselves vomit... so they can eat more, and do it all over again.
For Peeta and Katniss, this is the last straw. Katniss thinks of the children in their home district, crying themselves to sleep at night with empty stomachs, thinks of whole districts of people who never experience a full stomach in their entire lives... contrasted with this obscenity of waste. Out of all the injustice, all the indignities and degradations that they struggle with, it is this contrast that fuels their thoughts of revolution.
The parallels to our world are obvious, whether we think of the income inequality of one country, or of the entire planet.
Catching Fire is less overtly political than The Hunger Games, and I found the ending unsatisfying. But I'm starting Mockingjay as soon as possible.
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