The fault in Our Stars

The Fault in Our Stars by John Green
Raw.
It's a word I admittedly overuse when i find a piece of literature that is, in fact, not over processed, overly pretentious or trying too hard - as books an do. The fault in Our Stars -which I finally succumbed to reading after much hype by blogging fans for ages - is raw in a very poignant way. The fault in our stars is certainly romantic, and in it's romance dances into the idealistic forms of love - I won't spoil it for potential readers, but there's a level of convenience inherent in the way romantic love plays out within the novel - but it does generally keep itself honest and real. Hazel Grace, our 16 year old main character, is a thoughtful, interesting - odd - but very much teenager main character. While her cancer makes her whole unique from your average teen, Green does a great job of exemplifying that she is, in turn, just as teenagerly, and just as much the same as any other non cancer inflicted individual. We are all human, finite, and experience pain and loss.
But the depth and clarity with which Green address cancer - the "suckyness" of it, the agony that really isn't brave, but breaking and sad - not tragic or poetic - just sad, adds so much merit to the tale.

While there are moments where Green pulls aspects of the 'cancer story' he is careful to tell Hazel's story - and individual tale of a young girl who happens to have a fatal disease, rather than the story of Cancer, featuring Hazel Grace. The novel itself focusing around this distinction, determined to illuminate the humanity and normalcy of people while at the same time taking nothing away from the sheer unfair awfulness that is growing up with Cancer. Hazel is real, she is 'raw' and she is likeable, even in her sometimes depressing realism. The reader immediately grows to like her, is invested, and I myself found the novel an exceptionally quick read.

A well written story of friendship and love, sickness, fatality and the coming to terms with the fact that we all, one day, must die. And while we may have but a short time together, that time - those moments, can be infinite.

The Year of the Hare

An adventurous tale of a man who, in a moment of haphazard rebellion, leaves his life behind in pursuit of something real again. Vatanen, a (former) journalist hits a young hare on a trip through the countryside one evening with his photographer. In that split second, his life is flipped upside down, as the frailty, beauty and innocence of nature becomes so very evident. Leaving behind the cities and confinements, Vatanen forges ahead into the wilderness where he encounters a series of odd adventures, miscellaneous labour jobs, and astounding characters, all the while conveniently fleeing his former life. 
A story about living life to it's fullest, and getting back to nature, The Year of the Rabbit holds the true spirit of a rebel, a countrymen, and one not confined by conformity or convention. 
written in the 1970's, the pure sense of simple living, adventure and companionship still rings true. Vatanen's will power and curiosity keep the pages turning as the straightforward style of story telling paints the picture of a year more full than a whole lifetime of urban living. 

One Hundred Years of Solitude

I essentially read this book because it's on every list of Books One Should Read Before They Die, and it sounded far more interesting than many of the extremely old 'canon' pieces of yonder years that inevitably take up prominent spots on such lists.
..
well, it was certainly not in the 18th Century style, but that didn't mean it wasn't a bit drawn out, halting and muddled.
To be honest I think the main issue was the characters were flippant within the story, passing in and out at random, unfixed in time on occasion, and confusing not only chronology, but relations and generations. This was not helped by the fact that every male in the novel of the Buendía family has (essentially) on of two names, either Aureliano or (Jose) Arcadio. it's a bit confusing. Granted, I see the significance of this odd narrative, and of the repeat of names, as history was seen to be circling back on itself, patterns in generations repeating and overlapping and confusing one another. In this way, the novel was brilliantly successful in mirroring life in narrative. However, it didn't make it particularly comprehensive, and I often found myself less engaged than I would have liked to be.

At it's core, 100 years of Solitude is a recounting of the history of one family- occasionally with meaningful, heartfelt stories, sometimes in minute detail, but often illuminating love and solitude, and the partnership that these feelings often share. The novel to me became the recounting of the latest 'ursula' or 'remedies' or 'aureliano' (yes many of the daughters were named after mothers or grandmothers as well), who they slept with - often wildly inappropriately, or out of sheer solitude, any resulting children, and a spiral into quiet sad solitude. This pattern, repeated again and again, had the markers of deep life lessons, but also became somewhat tedious for the reader.

in essence, I appreciated the novel, but I did not, in the end, find it overly engaging, moving or 'entertaining'. Rather it was dirty, real, unpolished poetry, which at times lagged, and at time showed glimpses of both the purity, and dark twisted animalisms that form the basis of humanity.