Today is the two-year anniversary of the publication of The Fault in Our Stars. I just wanted to share a couple memories with you of those days:
The first teenager to read TFIOS was my now-assistant Rosianna. We were at Vidcon and Rosianna’s dad had died unexpectedly that day, and she couldn’t get home to the UK to be with her family. That night, we were talking about Esther and about the book and I offered to let her read it. She read it overnight and the next morning when she returned the manuscript to me, she said, “It’s definitely the best book you’ve written,” and I really clung to that in the intervening months as I worried that I might disappoint all the people who’d preordered it.
Then, the night the book came out, Hank and I were in Boston to start the TFIOS tour. I was nervous about going on stage, and also upset because I’d promised all preorders would be signed but a bunch of unsigned books had been shipped to some people in Europe. Right before the show started, Esther’s family came backstage and talked to us. Lori and Wayne (Esther’s parents) were so kind about the book.
Since then, millions (!!!!) of people have been similarly generous to the book, forgiving its flaws and insufficiencies and finding in it something moving and helpful. I can never sufficiently express my gratitude to Rosianna, or to the Earls, or to all the people since who’ve loved and shared TFIOS. Nor can I ever thank Sarah, or Esther, or my publisher Julie Strauss-Gabel, who worked relentlessly on the book for so many years.
This is the nature of owing debts of gratitude, and I owe a lot of them. All I can say is thanks. Thanks for caring about Hazel and Gus. Thanks for loving them as I do. As long as people are still reading about them, they’re still here.
Is it just me or John Green looks like James Potter nursing Harry?
make john green find the thing
john green will die when he finds the thing
Are you implying that when john green finds the thing Voldemort will Kill him in an attempt to prevent Henry from becoming powerful enough to kill him?
Nostalgia is inevitably a yearning for a past that never existed, and when I’m writing, there are no bees to sting me out of my sentimentality. For me at least, fiction is the only way I can even begin to twist my lying memories into something true.