I could write paragraphs upon paragraphs raving about John Green's The Fault in Our Stars, complete with textual evidence from the pages and pages I underlined, circled, and folded to preserve his beautiful, profound prose. I could follow my rave with paragraphs upon paragraphs of ranting response to the poor reviews I read on Goodreads, but I will not.
I will say only this: any author who can quote T. S. Eliot's "The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock" in his novel without skipping a beat will forever hold a special place in my heart.
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