Paper Towns is one of John Green's most famous works. Most readers of the book are inclined to believe that it will be most interesting for teenagers. It is noteworthy that the plot of the book is not hackneyed, it is difficult to find works with similar characters, similar situations.
In the center of the story is a teenager Q, almost a high school graduate and his neighbor Margot. She is very popular at school, beautiful, the boy is in love with her. When they were children, they were friends and often played together. Having matured, the guy became more calm, cautious, and Margo was still the same mischievous girl who loves adventure, who does not care about any prohibitions.
One night, Margo climbed into Q's window and invited him to participate in the punishment of her offenders. It was a real adventure for the guy. Everything goes well, and the night ends at the very top of the tallest building in the city. Young people are talking, the girl says the phrase that everything here is paper, not real: people, houses, city.
In the morning, Q discovers that the girl has disappeared. Margo left him messages that will help him find a secret place in one of the cities of Florida. The teenager thinks this is the place where he can see her, but it turns out that Margot is not there. However, together with his friends, he discovers the traces that she inadvertently left. Having found the girl, friends see that Margo is not at all the person she pretended to be...
The book has intrigue, mystery, love - everything that is so interesting to every teenager. The advantage of the book is that with its title and Margo's phrase about paper cities, it makes you think about whether everything around is paper, not real, not the way we see it? The theme of illusory love is important. After all, the way you see a person, imagine him, does not mean that he is such in reality. You can draw an image that you will love and idolize all your life, but does it make sense if in reality everything is completely different.
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John Green
Paper cities
Thanks to Julie Strauss-Gabel, without whom none of this would have been possible.
Then we went outside and saw that she had already lit a candle; I really liked the face that she carved from a pumpkin: from afar it seemed that sparks sparkled in her eyes.
"Halloween", Katrina Vandenberg, from the collection "Atlas".
It is said that a friend cannot destroy a friend.
What do they know about it?
From a song by the Mountain Goats.
My opinion is this: some kind of miracle happens to every person in life. Well, that is, of course, it is unlikely that I will be struck by lightning or I will receive a Nobel Prize, or I will become a dictator of a small people living on some island in the Pacific Ocean, or I will catch an incurable ear cancer in the final stage, or I will suddenly ignite spontaneously. But, if you look at all these extraordinary phenomena together, most likely, at least something unlikely happens to everyone. For example, I could get caught in a rain of frogs. Or land on Mars. Marry the Queen of England, or hang out alone at sea for several months, being on the verge of life and death. But something else happened to me. Among all the many residents of Florida, it was I who happened to be the neighbor of Margo Roth Spiegelman.
Jefferson Park, where I live, used to be a Navy base. But then it was no longer needed, and the land was returned to the ownership of the municipality of Orlando, Florida, and a huge residential area was built on the site of the base, because that's how free land is now used. And in the end, my parents and Margo's parents bought houses in the neighborhood as soon as the construction of the first objects was completed. Margot and I were two years old at the time.
Even before Jefferson Park became Pleasantville, even before it became a Navy base, it really belonged to a certain Jefferson, or rather, Dr. Jefferson Jefferson. In honor of Dr. Jefferson Jefferson in Orlando, an entire school was named, there is also a large charitable organization named after him, but the most interesting thing is that Dr. Jefferson Jefferson was not any "doctor": unbelievable, but true. He sold orange juice all his life. And then he suddenly became rich and became a man of influence. And then he went to court and changed his name: "Jefferson" put in the middle, and as the first name he wrote down the word "doctor." And try to answer.
So, Margot and I were nine. Our parents were friends, so we sometimes played together with her, driving bikes past dead-end streets into Jefferson Park itself - the main attraction of our area.
When I was told that Margo was coming soon, I was always terribly worried, because I considered her the most divine of God's creatures in the entire history of mankind. That very morning, she was wearing white shorts and a pink t-shirt with a green dragon that had flames of orange sequins coming out of its mouth. Now it's hard to explain why this T-shirt seemed so amazing to me that day.
Margot rode the bike standing up, with her straight arms clinging to the steering wheel and hanging over it with her whole body, purple sneakers sparkled. It was in March, but the heat was already standing, like in a steam room. The sky was clear, but there was a sour taste in the air, which indicated that a storm might break out in a while.
I thought I was an inventor at the time, and when Margot and I dropped our bikes and went to the playground, I began to tell her that I was developing a "ringolator", that is, a giant cannon that could shoot large colored stones, launching them circling around the Earth, so that we have here become like on Saturn. (I still think it would be cool, but making a cannon that will launch rocks into Earth orbit turns out to be quite difficult.)
I often visited this park and knew every corner of it well, so that pretty soon I felt that something strange had happened to this world, although I did not immediately notice what exactly changed in him.
Quentin, - quietly and calmly said Margot.
She was pointing her finger somewhere. It was then that I saw What not this way.
A few steps ahead of us was an oak tree. Fat, knobby, terribly old. He has always been here. To the right was the playground. She didn't show up today either. But there, leaning against a tree trunk, sat a man in a gray suit. He didn't move. Here I saw him for the first time. There was a pool of blood around him. Blood flowed from his mouth, although the trickle was almost dry. The man opened his mouth in a strange way. Flies sat quietly on his pale forehead.
I took two steps back. I remember that for some reason it seemed to me that if I suddenly made any sudden movement, he might wake up and attack me. Is it a zombie then? At that age I already knew that they did not exist, but this dead man really looked like it could come alive at any moment.
And while I was taking these two steps back, Margot just as slowly and carefully stepped forward.
His eyes are open, she stated.
We must return home, - I answered.
I thought they were dying with their eyes closed, - she did not let up.
Margon needs to go home and tell her parents.
She took another step forward. If she stretched out her hand now, she could touch his leg.
What do you think happened to him? she asked. Maybe drugs or something.
I did not want to leave Margot alone with the corpse, which at any moment could come to life and rush at her, but I was also not in a position to stay there and discuss the circumstances of his death in the smallest detail. I plucked up the courage to step forward and grabbed her arm.
Margonadoid go home now!
Okay, fine, she agreed.
We ran to the bikes, I was breathless, as if from delight, only it was not delight. We sat down, and I let Margo go first, because I burst into tears myself and did not want her to see it. The soles of her purple sneakers were stained with blood. His blood. This dead man.
And then we went home. My parents called 911, sirens wailed in the distance, I asked permission to look at the cars, my mother refused. Then I went to sleep.
My mom and dad are psychotherapists, so I, by definition, have no psychological problems. When I woke up, my mother and I had a long conversation about the lifespan of a person, that death is also part of the life cycle, but at the age of nine I don’t have to think much about this phase, in general, I felt better. To be honest, I never got into this topic. This says a lot, because, in principle, I know how to drive.
John Green
Paper cities
Thanks to Julie Strauss-Gabel, without whom none of this would have been possible.
Then we went outside and saw that she had already lit a candle; I really liked the face that she carved from a pumpkin: from afar it seemed that sparks sparkled in her eyes.
"Halloween", Katrina Vandenberg, from the collection "Atlas".
It is said that a friend cannot destroy a friend.
What do they know about it?
From a song by the Mountain Goats.
My opinion is this: some kind of miracle happens to every person in life. Well, that is, of course, it is unlikely that I will be struck by lightning or I will receive a Nobel Prize, or I will become a dictator of a small people living on some island in the Pacific Ocean, or I will catch an incurable ear cancer in the final stage, or I will suddenly ignite spontaneously. But, if you look at all these extraordinary phenomena together, most likely, at least something unlikely happens to everyone. For example, I could get caught in a rain of frogs. Or land on Mars. Marry the Queen of England, or hang out alone at sea for several months, being on the verge of life and death. But something else happened to me. Among all the many residents of Florida, it was I who happened to be the neighbor of Margo Roth Spiegelman.
Jefferson Park, where I live, used to be a Navy base. But then it was no longer needed, and the land was returned to the ownership of the municipality of Orlando, Florida, and a huge residential area was built on the site of the base, because that's how free land is now used. And in the end, my parents and Margo's parents bought houses in the neighborhood as soon as the construction of the first objects was completed. Margot and I were two years old at the time.
Even before Jefferson Park became Pleasantville, even before it became a Navy base, it really belonged to a certain Jefferson, or rather, Dr. Jefferson Jefferson. In honor of Dr. Jefferson Jefferson in Orlando, an entire school was named, there is also a large charitable organization named after him, but the most interesting thing is that Dr. Jefferson Jefferson was not any "doctor": unbelievable, but true. He sold orange juice all his life. And then he suddenly became rich and became a man of influence. And then he went to court and changed his name: "Jefferson" put in the middle, and as the first name he wrote down the word "doctor." And try to answer.
So, Margot and I were nine. Our parents were friends, so we sometimes played together with her, driving bikes past dead-end streets into Jefferson Park itself - the main attraction of our area.
When I was told that Margo was coming soon, I was always terribly worried, because I considered her the most divine of God's creatures in the entire history of mankind. That very morning, she was wearing white shorts and a pink t-shirt with a green dragon that had flames of orange sequins coming out of its mouth. Now it's hard to explain why this T-shirt seemed so amazing to me that day.
Margot rode the bike standing up, with her straight arms clinging to the steering wheel and hanging over it with her whole body, purple sneakers sparkled. It was in March, but the heat was already standing, like in a steam room. The sky was clear, but there was a sour taste in the air, which indicated that a storm might break out in a while.
I thought I was an inventor at the time, and when Margot and I dropped our bikes and went to the playground, I began to tell her that I was developing a "ringolator", that is, a giant cannon that could shoot large colored stones, launching them circling around the Earth, so that we have here become like on Saturn. (I still think it would be cool, but making a cannon that will launch rocks into Earth orbit turns out to be quite difficult.)
I often visited this park and knew every corner of it well, so that pretty soon I felt that something strange had happened to this world, although I did not immediately notice what exactly changed in him.
Quentin, - quietly and calmly said Margot.
She was pointing her finger somewhere. It was then that I saw What not this way.
A few steps ahead of us was an oak tree. Fat, knobby, terribly old. He has always been here. To the right was the playground. She didn't show up today either. But there, leaning against a tree trunk, sat a man in a gray suit. He didn't move. Here I saw him for the first time. There was a pool of blood around him. Blood flowed from his mouth, although the trickle was almost dry. The man opened his mouth in a strange way. Flies sat quietly on his pale forehead.
I took two steps back. I remember that for some reason it seemed to me that if I suddenly made any sudden movement, he might wake up and attack me. Is it a zombie then? At that age I already knew that they did not exist, but this dead man really looked like it could come alive at any moment.
And while I was taking these two steps back, Margot just as slowly and carefully stepped forward.
His eyes are open, she stated.
We must return home, - I answered.
I thought they were dying with their eyes closed, - she did not let up.
Margon needs to go home and tell her parents.
She took another step forward. If she stretched out her hand now, she could touch his leg.
What do you think happened to him? she asked. Maybe drugs or something.
I did not want to leave Margot alone with the corpse, which at any moment could come to life and rush at her, but I was also not in a position to stay there and discuss the circumstances of his death in the smallest detail. I plucked up the courage to step forward and grabbed her arm.
Margonadoid go home now!
Okay, fine, she agreed.
We ran to the bikes, I was breathless, as if from delight, only it was not delight. We sat down, and I let Margo go first, because I burst into tears myself and did not want her to see it. The soles of her purple sneakers were stained with blood. His blood. This dead man.
And then we went home. My parents called 911, sirens wailed in the distance, I asked permission to look at the cars, my mother refused. Then I went to sleep.
My mom and dad are psychotherapists, so I, by definition, have no psychological problems. When I woke up, my mother and I had a long conversation about the lifespan of a person, that death is also part of the life cycle, but at the age of nine I don’t have to think much about this phase, in general, I felt better. To be honest, I never got into this topic. This says a lot, because, in principle, I know how to drive.
These are the facts: I came across a dead man. A cute little nine-year-old boy, that is, me, and my even smaller and much cuter girlfriend found a dead man in the park who was bleeding in his mouth, and when we rushed home, my girlfriend's cute little sneakers were in this very blood of his. Very dramatic, of course, and all the cases, but so what? I didn't know him. Every damn day people I don't know die. If every misfortune that happens in this world brought me to a nervous breakdown, I would have already gone crazy.
At nine in the evening I went to my room, about to go to bed - according to the schedule. Mom tucked my blanket in, said she loved me, I told her “see you tomorrow”, she also told me “see you tomorrow”, turned off the light and closed the door so that only a small gap remained.
Turning on my side, I saw Margot Roth Spiegelman: she was standing in the street, literally pressing her nose to the window. I got up, opened it, now we were separated only by a mosquito net, because of which it seemed that her face was a small dot.
I've done my research," she said in a serious tone.
Although the mesh made it difficult to see it properly, I still saw in Margot's hands a small notebook and a pencil with dents from the teeth near the eraser.
She looked at her notes.
Mrs. Feldman of Jefferson Court said his name was Robert Joyner. And that he lived on Jefferson Road in an apartment in a house with a grocery store. I went there and found a bunch of policemen, one of them asked, what, from the school newspaper, I answered that we do not have our own newspaper at school, and he said that if I'm not a journalist, he can answer my questions. It turned out that Robert Joyner was thirty-six years old. He is a lawyer. They didn't let me into his apartment, but I went to his neighbor named Juanita Alvarez on the pretext that I wanted to borrow a glass of sugar from her, and she said that this Robert Joyner shot himself with a pistol. I asked why, and it turned out that his wife wanted to divorce him, and this made him very upset.
This summer there was another premiere of John Green's bestseller "Paper Towns" in the cinema. The book actually had very mixed reviews: some sang praises to it, others claimed that it was second-rate literature designed for teenagers, and the deep meaning in it was more than far-fetched. Needless to say, that after the film, the judgments were very similar? Only criticism of the acting was added, and fan opinions were divided into "this is brilliant" and the crown "it was not like that in the book." After the latter, of particular interest is the question of how it was in the book. Did John Green really write something outstanding in these lines? After all, people were hooked by this book.
What is the book "Paper Towns" about?
Reviews of the book, as already mentioned, are very motley. It is difficult to tell from them what happened in the popular novel. Every now and then the name Margo Roth Spiegelman flashes among the opinions, but the ignorant do not understand what the fans of "Paper Towns" are talking about. It is worth briefly telling the story.
Plot
High school student and near-graduate Q Jacobsen and "Queen of the School" Margo Roth Spiegelman are neighbors. As children, they often walked and were friends. But as they grow older, their opinions began to be somewhat divided: the calm, cautious Q and the restless Margot, for whom there are no limits and barriers. At one point, their paths simply parted - without any quarrels and disputes, it just happens. Many years have passed, and Margot Roth Spiegelman has become the one who can not be overlooked, and Q has become (or remained?) Just a freak, in love with his "queen" head over heels.
What is the climax?
One fine night, Margot climbs into the window to Q and offers him to make the most incredible adventure in his life - to punish and take revenge on her offenders. The pair make their splendid foray and end the night on the highest floor of the tallest building in the city, where Margot Roth Spiegelman, in fact, says the famous phrase that gave the book its title - "Paper Towns". The book of reviews on this particular subject is, as already expected, contradictory: there are those who admire the thoughtful "this is a paper city ... paper people in paper houses", and there are those who claim: in fact, the author, John Green , only gave his heroine a little pathos, but this does not speak of her wisdom, and the wisdom of the book itself.
The climax is that Margo Roth Spiegelman disappears the next morning. Well, the knight Q Jacobsen decides to nobly find her. How it all ends, the book "Paper Towns" itself can tell.
Reviews
John Michael Green's book, in principle, catches the plot - it has an intrigue, so necessary so that the reader does not get bored. Curious characters. A couple of funny secondary characters. Claim for wise thoughts.
What do readers think of all this?
Reviews of the book Paper Cities assure that the book is good for the contingent for which it was written: teenagers of school age will like both humor inserted in the right place and somewhat naive situations that surprise older readers.
Reviewers pay much attention to how the author built the finale. It can safely be called open: John Green does not pose direct questions, he leads to reflection, and it becomes interesting for the reader to find the answers himself.
This style is not alien to Green: the same is observed in the less famous "Looking for Alaska".
Advantages
"Paper Towns" is a book whose reviews are no less interesting to read than the work itself. Its advantages are called a simple syllable - this book is light, you can read it overnight and be satisfied with such a valuable acquisition. Also, high-quality humor is taken for dignity, which, by the way, is in abundance, an unhackneyed plot. This is true: in "Paper Towns" there are no clichés in terms of events or characters, which is very pleasing. After all, this is modern prose, and it is sometimes difficult for young authors to refrain from using what has already been tested by time.
Flaws
Unfortunately, the virtues that are such, since they are suitable for a teenage audience, come down precisely to this shortcoming - a narrow age category. For young readers, John Michael Green's book "Paper Towns" is too full of adult events, it will be incomprehensible to them, for adults it is naive and ingenuous. This also causes an illogical sequence of events, and sometimes completely strange behavior of the characters.
On average, a book is given a score of about 6-7 points out of a possible ten.
Positive Opinions
Many have read "Paper Towns" after the acclaimed "The Fault in Our Stars" and got the same vivid impressions, although the books are, in fact, different. Rave reviews are more often directed towards Margot Roth Spiegelman - an unusual heroine as opposed to such an ordinary Q Jacobson. Readers assure that the book is ideal for fans of love, adventure and detective novels.
No wonder so many of the Cities fans are girls. They fell in love with them thanks to their insight and philosophical overtones. Loving riddles, they happily accepted the understatement in the finale.
In our crazy high-speed world, its small volume is also one of the advantages of the work. That's what some of the reviews say.
"Paper Towns" (John Green) is a fairly popular book, so there were a lot of reviews and opinions about it. Readers assure that the book can be called very kind, it makes you think about your attitude to your loved ones, to the world, to the notorious stereotypical rules of society.
The moral of this story is...
There are several key takeaways that come to the fore after reading the book.
Firstly, the one that Margo Roth Spiegelman herself asks, speaking about her worldview - she calls everything paper, and the reader thinks: maybe it really is paper? Maybe he himself is paper?
Secondly, the one that arises immediately after the finale: stereotypes, what are they? What limits have we long ago resigned ourselves to? Maybe it's time to let go of these stupid rules?
Thirdly, the one that appears after some reflection on the work "Paper Towns" (John Green). Book reviews do not always take this conclusion into account. And it consists in this: if you run faster, you still won’t be able to run away. Wasn't Margot's attempt to run away to an immediately adult (in her understanding) version of herself more than stupid? Has she not built her own illusions of this world instead of the ones she does not like, which in reality is no better?
Fourth, the one that is least noticeable among the reviews: the problem of idealizing the image of the "queen" Margo Roth Spiegelman. Quentin (Kew) Jacobsen made her an idol, and fans of Paper Towns also include her there. This is wrong, because the author himself in the finale indicates how important it is to see not the image of a person created in one's head, but to try to discern the true essence. It's always easier to love fiction, endowing the character with whatever qualities you want. Such an ideal. And the problem of such illusory love, which is important, is relevant not only for teenagers, but also in adulthood. Moreover, the older the person, the more painful it is for him to give up such a habit.
Negative opinions
The intricacies of light and complex, insignificant and serious - that's what the book "Paper Towns" is all about. She has not only good reviews. Those to whom the work did not sink into the soul found enough flaws in it.
It has been argued that despite the fact that the books of John Green are called "vital", in fact they are not. Margo is too perfect, Quentin is too ordinary.
The meaning in the work is blocked by too vulgar and vulgar conversations of friends and comrades who, it seems, do not feel even an ounce of shame for the things they said.
The plot is eventually confused so much that the ending comes out not so much open and understated as unconvincing. The character should not closely correlate with the reader, but it should be written in such a way that the choice of the hero can be understood, even if everyone else in the work just could not understand and accept it. With this task, Green's light syllable did not cope.
There are also complaints about the syllable to the author. "Paper Towns" is a book, reviews of which always begin with how the author writes. And not everyone is happy with his simple style. In addition, some even complain that in the middle of the work, instead of being exciting, it becomes monotonous and tedious. This shows that John Green failed to make the transition from light to serious successfully.
Is there a consensus?
Unfortunately, no, there is no consensus. The book "Paper Towns" (John Green) is characterized by customer reviews quite ambiguously. As always: lemons for someone, lemon boxes for someone. And for every one who puts "Paper Towns" on the altar, there is someone who would rather throw it away and unsubscribe that money and time were wasted. Well, to form your own opinion, you should just read it!
