All About Leah

Leah decided she wanted to be a writer around the same time that she learned to read. From an early age she filled notebooks with her thoughts and observations, convinced that one day these scribblings would be unearthed and hailed by literature critics as the beginnings of a great career.

She has since carefully hidden away those notebooks. Which is just as well– because the contents of those journals are embarrassing for many, many reasons.

Sometime during high school, wise adults convinced her that writing was not the smartest career choice, unless she wished to spend her life unemployed and hungry, waiting sadly by her mailbox for the publisher’s letter which would never come. So she chose pediatrics. She figured that if she couldn’t make children smile with her writing, at least she could make their fevers go away and their noses stop running. Read more…

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  • THIS. nytimes.com/2014/10/19/fas… 4 days ago
  • 3/3 I totally understand debut author anxiety, but really, if you can’t handle bad reviews you may be in the wrong field 4 days ago
  • 1/3 Re: bloggers vs Hale: The more I read about this the more I wonder if the whole stalker article was a last ditch publicity tactic 4 days ago
  • 2/3 Shame, because I was intrigued by the first chapter on Amazon and was considering buying. 4 days ago
  • 1/2 Re: bloggers vs Hale: The more I read about this the more I wonder if the whole stalker article was a last ditch publicity tactic. 4 days ago

From the Blog

Review of The Fault in our Stars by John Green

May 06, 2012 6:18 pm

The Fault in our Stars is a book I would recommend above all others– the “if you only read one piece of fiction this year” type of novel. It could easily go head to head with The Book Thief, The History of Love or any of my favorites. And it made me cry harder than I’ve ever cried over a fictional character– ever. I mean I KNEW this was a cancer book, I could predict what was going to happen from the first chapter, but I still needed half a box of tissues and some deep breathing exercises to get through it.
 
And I know this a cliche- but John Green is a genius. So much so that you don’t mind that he occasionally kind of rubs your face in his brilliance. I admit that it took me a few chapters to get used to his teenage prodigies. I mean, I went to a college filled with nerds, students who prided themselves on being geeks before the term “nerdfighter” even existed. And I never met anyone who talks or thinks like Hazel or Augustus. A seventeen-year-old boy who holds an unlit cigarette in his mouth as a “metaphor” and a girl who can quote poetry from memory?
 
It sounds a tad pretentious, no? But somehow this author made it work. And by the end of the novel he had turned against the pretention of the so-called brilliant writer, destroyed the “strong, brave cancer hero” myth, and actually made his quirky teens so real to me that I actually cried out when I turned the last page and hit the acknowledgements section.
 
I now hate acknowledgements.
 
I can’t think of a better way to end this review than my favorite quote from The Fault in our Stars. It feels very relevant to me right now.
 
It occurred to me that the voracious ambition of humans is never sated by dreams coming true, because there is always the thought that everything might be done better and again.

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