Book reviews
This review is spoiler-free, as any plot points discussed can be learned from reading the inside of the book jacket. It also originally appeared on my old blog, which no longer exists.
“If after reading this book you come to my home and brutally murder me, I do not blame you.” The narrator of Me and Earl and the Dying Girl by Jesse Andrews is a breath of fresh air for those of you who found Augustus Waters (of The Fault in Our Stars fame) a bit difficult to stomach. Don’t get me wrong. I loved John Green’s ill-fated teen as much as the next girl; but Greg Gaines in Me and Earl has a huge advantage over Augustus Waters. He talks like a real teenager. As much as I love to read long, flowing, beautifully-crafted sentences about metaphorical cigarettes, I much prefer to read the language of a self-deprecating teenage boy whose biggest problem is attempting to graduate from high school virtually unscathed. He’s managed to succeed so far by refusing to become part of any particular group. Instead, he floats between cliques, always treating everyone nicely enough to avoid making enemies, but never getting close enough to be considered part of the group. All of that changes when his former friend/ex-girlfriend, Rachel, is diagnosed with leukemia just before their senior year. While Greg would be perfectly willing to send her a “Get Well Soon” card and call it good, his mother has other plans. With tears in her eyes, she demands that Greg reach out to Rachel and rekindle their friendship, as Rachel is going to need someone to lean on more than ever now. After several failed attempts to hang out with Rachel, she finally, begrudgingly allows him to come over and see her. “This book contains precisely zero Important Life Lessons, or Little-Known Facts About Love, or sappy tear-jerking Moments When We Knew We Had Left Our Childhood Behind for Good, or whatever. And, unlike most books in which a girl gets cancer, there are definitely no sugary paradoxical single-sentence-paragraphs that you’re supposed to think are deep because they’re in italics.” Because I began by comparing Me and Earl to TFIOS, I’m going to continue with it. John Green weaves together the story of the beautiful relationship between Hazel and Augustus. They speak like pretentious English majors. They get to literally make their wishes come true. They get their own perfect version of a limited forever. Jesse Andrews, on the other hand, constructs the story of the painfully forced friendship between Greg and Rachel. They talk about school and movies and masturbation and Greg’s dysfunctional friendship with Earl. (I would love to make a post that focuses solely on Earl, but I don’t know that I could do him justice. He’s hilarious. If nothing else, read the book just for all of the ridiculous comments he makes.) Greg and Rachel don’t have big dreams that they struggle to achieve. She wants to not die and he wants to graduate high school without putting in too much effort. They don’t get a forever together, because they don’t want one. He starts hanging out with her because he has to and she lets him stick around because he’s kind of funny and she doesn’t really have any other friends willing to come visit her. There is so much more I could say about this book, but I’m afraid that if I gush about it for too long I’ll end up giving away something important. So I’ll end with this recommendation: If you hated The Fault in Our Stars for being too pretentious or sappy, read Me and Earl instead. And if you don’t laugh out loud at least once, I will let you come punch me in the face. (As long as you avoid the nose. It’s my one attractive feature.) And for those of you who love The Fault in Our Stars, read Me and Earl anyway. You’ll get your fix of reading about a teenage girl with cancer, but with an extra dose of reality sprinkled on top.
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Jacinta M. CarterProfessional Book Nerd Archives
March 2017
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