So I finally got my copy of The Fault in Our Stars. Its journey to my hands was filled with adventure, camaraderie, massive swashbuckling and a stolen kiss... Okay, maybe not so much. But here's the story.
I very recently found out about John Green, the Vlogbrothers, and The Fault in Our Stars, being a follower of Mark Reads. So far, I’d bought all of John Green’s books for Kindle, because, as many of you might now know, I do not live in the United States. Actually, I don’t even live in a country that has an Amazon of its own, but that’s the magic of a credit card — even if they do charge you more for most titles. So, when I heard John Green would be signing all pre-order copies of TFiOS, I had already accepted my fate: shipping would be prohibitively expensive!
Then, a few days before release, I learned that my grandmother, who lives in the same country that I do, but not in the same city, would be visiting my aunt who does live in the U.S. So I tried and I tried and I tried to contact this aunt of mine to ask her if I could have the book shipped to her place and finally did the day previous to the release date. I promptly placed my order (IT WAS STILL A PRE-ORDER!) and waited.
So began my copy’s journey from… wherever Amazon warehouses are to my aunt’s house. And so, while many regular Nerdfighters were happily showing off their J-scribble to the world (at least to the Tumblr world), my aunt got the book at her house and I just sat, as Mr Jack Johnson would put it, “sitting, waiting, wishing.”
Some days after that, my grandmother visited them for like a month. I phoned her while she was there to make she made sure she had put the book in her suitcase, as she usually forgets stuff wherever she goes (which doesn’t really matter, because she travels a lot.) So she did, and the book travelled with her to my country, where it lay hidden away somewhere, waiting for the moment to be read (since my grandmother doesn’t read English, and I’m not sure if my aunt did).
So, a few days ago, Mom went to my grandmother’s city to attend some courses regarding the small business we run. Also, you know, contact suppliers, buy material, all that jazz. And yes, she brought the book with her. So finally, on the twenty-sixth day of February in the two-thousand and twelfth year of the current calendar, at approximately eight thirty in the morning, I woke up, and walked down the stair teary-eyed, with shuffled hair and still on my pajamas. I greeted my mother hugged her, sat with her for a while and talked for another while, and, before she went out for breakfast with my dad, she reached into her suitcase and grabbed the book. Of course, I had to keep my cool and not do a full Tom Cruise right there on the couch, but I did smile and thank her. And yes, it was a signed copy. My mom looked at the J-scribble and casually commented she could have made that herself. You know, I could have explained, but I just accepted it as a fact parents will never fully understand.
So here I am, with my hair still a mess and still on my PJ’s holding The Fault in Our Stars in my hand after all this time.
I also tried to take a picture of my dogs reading the book as many of you have, because apparently I live in a world where canines care about the literary content they receive, but in reality they could not be bothered to be raised from their current curled-up forms, so I left it at that.
Este es sólo un recordatorio de que pueden donarme tarjetas de regalo de Amazon para comprar libros cuando ustedes gusten. O libros físicos, pero primero pregúntenme si lo quiero. No vaya a ser como en secundaria que me regalaron uno acerca de la refracción de la luz. A la fecha está metido en mi librero sin haber sido abierto una segunda vez, y eso es triste.
“I have a daughter who’s 10 and we walked past a billboard the other day advertising a TV programme. There was a row of men in suits and a woman in a thong. My daughter said, “Why is it like that? It’s to sell it, isn’t it?” She knows that already. I said, “Yes, it’s a shame a young woman would want to be portrayed in that way,” and she said, “But it’s her choice, isn’t it? Nobody made her do that.” So how do you explain the Gramscian concept of hegemony to a 10 year old? If the culture is so all pervasive that you can’t think outside of it, how are you making genuine choices?”—
To be fair, some people argue the quality of Dreamwork’s films’ graphics are superior to those of Pixar. Also, this post conveniently left out some other worse films like Madagascar, Antz, Shrek 3+, Shark Tale, or Flushed Away.