The Fault in Our Books

Did I read The Hunger Games trilogy? Yes. Did I like it? No, but I am okay with the movies.

Did I read The Fault in Our Starts? Yes. Did I like it? No, but I am okay with the movie.

Many of us have heard people who complain about a movie because “the book is so much better. Like, they leave this whole part out and it just doesn’t make much sense without it.” Some of those people are just trying to sound cool and intellectual for having read a novel (you gotta consider that an accomplishment nowadays). They read a popular novel and then a movie based on it comes out. Many, longing to pronounce the phrase above, read these novels when they find out there’s a movie coming out.

Well, the thing is: this phenomenon doesn’t occur with The Hunger Games or The Fault in Our Stars. Yes, it is a matter of perspective, but I will tell you what I think, as worthless as it might be.

There are two areas in which these books fail to provide a good experience: plot and characters. Although these two points sound like really the whole book, I think it is in minor yet vital details of the plot and characters where the authors are not able to deliver.

The biggest reason why I liked the movie version for The Fault in Our Stars better than the novel is that the characters felt more realistic. Of course, with a good cast the task of having interesting characters becomes easier and I think this is where John Green failed. While reading the book, I did not connect with the characters (it was as if they were taken from a library of generic characters). The dialogue was good for the most part, but something just didn’t click. Shailene Woodley does an okay job bringing Hazel Grace to life, but Ansel Elgort was terrific. That smile just clicked and made Augustus Waters (despite the ridiculous name) real and interesting (I even forgave him for the stupid cigarette metaphor). So, good job, Josh Boone. You saved Green’s characters. In regard to The Hunger Games, I just dislike Katniss Everdeen and Jennifer Lawrence (because of the character), and I couldn’t care less about the other characters.

The Hunger Games trilogy, in its novel format, feels ridiculous in every paragraph of every chapter of every book, though it went from meh to struggling with finishing the third book. I imagined any given character in any given situation as a cartoon dwarf in a childish tell where the plot doesn’t really matter because the kids just care about what they see in that moment (at least that was me as a kid). The movie, due to its obvious visual advantages, delivered an interesting story that was well worth the six bucks I paid. If you haven’t read the books, then know that it gets worse. The plot in the first book or movie is fine, the seconds feels a little dumb, but the third . . . just no!

In The Fault in Our Stars, making Peter Van Houten (c’mon, really? That’s the name?) the father of a victim of cancer just seemed too orchestrated. Some parts of the plot felt natural, others didn’t. To not make it long, I appreciated all the cuts in the plot made for the film adaptation, except for the deletion of Augustus’ late girlfriend (it added something to his story).

Am I too critical of these young adult novels? Maybe. It might not be my type. Perhaps it is a good introduction to the vast world of literature.

Take whatever is beneficial from my poor review and ignore whatever seems arrogant.

P.S. If I offended anyone, you must forgive me. It wasn’t my intention.

Not everyone can become a great artist, but a great artist can come from anywhere

From Disney-Pixar’s Ratatouille:

In many ways, the work of a critic is easy. We risk very little yet enjoy a position over those who offer up their work and their selves to our judgment. We thrive on negative criticism, which is fun to write and to read. But the bitter truth we critics must face, is that in the grand scheme of things, the average piece of junk is probably more meaningful than our criticism designating it so. But there are times when a critic truly risks something, and that is in the discovery and defense of the new.

The world is often unkind to new talent, new creations, the new needs friends. Last night, I experienced something new, an extraordinary meal from a singularly unexpected source. To say that both the meal and its maker have challenged my preconceptions about fine cooking is a gross understatement. They have rocked me to my core. In the past, I have made no secret of my disdain for Chef Gusteau’s famous motto:

Anyone can cook.

But I realize, only now do I truly understand what he meant. Not everyone can become a great artist, but a great artist can come from anywhere. It is difficult to imagine more humble origins than those of the genius now cooking at Gusteau’s, who is, in this critic’s opinion, nothing less than the finest chef in France. I will be returning to Gusteau’s soon, hungry for more.

Everybody is a villain

This entry concludes the first series of “Eveybody is . . .” Maybe, just maybe, it becomes a thing. We’ll see.

What is a villain? In a movie, play, or novel, a villain is the character with evil actions and motives that is relevant to the story. So, the guy nobody cares about could be a pederast, but because he only appears once, he is not a villain. Perhaps I’m taking it too far. Whatever.

The second definition I found in the New Oxford American Dictionary refers to a person who is responsible for a specified harm. Because this is real life, and seldom runs like a novel, we’ll go with this other definition.

Now, I won’t tell you how I am your villain or how you are mine, I’ll just say that just because I am a villain today to my best friend, I can be a hero today to a homeless man. You can be a hero today and a villain tomorrow.

  • Christian villainy has permeated history in a still, for some, unforgivable manner.
  • Many Americans see Muslims as villains.
  • Americans are Mexico’s villain. Mexicans are the U.S.’ villain.
  • Socialists think capitalism is a villain. Capitalists think socialism is a villain.
  • The poor (or middle class) see their villain in the rich. The rich see villains in the poor.
  • Gays are villains, heterosexuals are villains, machistas are villains, feminists are villains.
  • Women are villains (don’t get mad), men are villains (because they are all the same), the in-laws are villains, children are villains.
  • Atheists are villains, Catholics are villains, Seventh-day Adventists are villains (Nazi Germany, Rwanda genocide), Westboro Baptists Church is a villain, Pentecostals are villains.
  • Pharisees are villains, Jesus is a villain (I cringe at the thought, but he was a villain to the aforementioned).
  • . . .  . . .  . . .  . . .
  • .  .  .    .  .  .    .  .  .    .  .  .
  • .   .   .      .   .   .      .   .   .      .   .   .

The list never ends. We’re all villains.

But, I thought I was a hero, and a lover, and a fool. What about that?

I am, and you are as well, a hero, a lover, a fool, a villain. We all are.

We all are heroes, lovers, fools, and villains.

Everybody is a fool

I make a fool out of myself all the time. You probably do it, too.

Whenever I read things I wrote a few years back, I feel embarrassed and want to delete those words to make sure nobody can read them ever again. Most likely, I will be having the same thoughts when I come back to this entries. I certainly think this way whenever I revisit my previous blog.

Here’s the less revelatory statement I will make (hopefully): We all make mistakes. I expected everyone to know this. So, what’s the deal? The deal is everybody makes mistakes. This fact carries two lessons.

1. Don’t worry about failing. We all do. We all will.

It’s okay to be horrible at one thing. You are probably good at another. And even in your forte, you will err over and over again. The good news is that it is not such a big deal, because everyone is just as stupid as I am. I am not any less or any more stupid than you (I probably should be careful with these statements).

Don’t compare yourself to others in a destructive way. I believe it is important to see where one is the journey compared to others who are walking a similar path, but only when this comparison has a constructive mission. Other will make different mistakes. Your mistakes are unique. Therefore, your path has different turns and intersections.

By now, you probably know I bring my Christian faith into my ideas. So, if you are a Christian it is important to remember that we are saved by God’s grace, and that it doesn’t matter how much we fail, but that we accept Jesus’ calling to pick up our mats and walk.

2. Don’t criticize those who fail. We all do. We all will.

Really, if we’d like others to forgive our shortcomings, why should we even hesitate to do the same to others? Christian or not, remember the Golden Rule. To me, this is not so much a self-serving rule as it is a reminder of our humanity and our responsibility to build others as they build us.

If someone fails, you can critic. I’m a fan of critique, not criticism. Let’s be critics and not criticizers. We’ll all be better off that way.

Do I have a concluding statement?

I don’t think so, but let’s try it.

Don’t be a jerk. Be a fool, but never the same one.