I've been hearing a lot of buzz around this book, and most of it was good. A little bit hipster, some insisted, but having read it, I can't really figure out why. I suppose what makes it hipster is people's attitudes toward the book, but for the text itself, there's nothing pretentious or fake about it, though it's written by a grown man in the perspective of a young, dying girl.
I haven't read many books about it, but cancer must be a difficult subject to write of, much less make jokes about. John Green does it in a way that feels very raw and tragic and wistful and young and scared at the same time. Many adjectives, yeah, but it's a mixed bag. I'll allow that some of the events and behaviors of the characters did feel a bit twee and special snowflake-y at times, but it all unfolded in a very natural way.
I don't know what else to say. It's a book that ended up blurring around the edges and making my throat hurt a bit, and a book that made me smile inwardly, and sometimes outwardly, too. I wouldn't say it's for everyone and I don't know if I would page through it again, but I don't regret picking this book up.