Looking for Alaska and the Problem of Tone

Before I dig into Looking for Alaska, I’d like to make it clear I think John Green is one of my favorite human beings. The world would be a better place with more people like him. He’s caring, kind, likeable, has a sense of humor, and has done a lot for youth literacy and people who need help in general. I am sure there many people out there who discovered the power of reading thanks to Green, and for that service, Green will always command my respect.

But something about Looking for Alaska does not sit well with me. Something about it makes me uncomfortable, and I honestly had difficulty making it through to the end.

 By no means is this due to bad writing. I think Green is, for the most part, a great writer. I enjoy his colloquial tone and the greatest strength of Looking For Alaska is its ability to create interesting (if not necessarily likeable) and unique characters, along with a very vivid and textured setting. Culver Creek feels like a very real place, a place I want to visit. It could hold a Great Perhaps, as our narrator Pudge would put it, for everyone. Green’s voice is very strong and I never felt like I was being lectured or simply informed by-the-by, the effect bad first person POV tends to have on the reader. I was even reminded a bit of the boarding school from Rockstar Studio’s Bully, a vastly underrated sixth-generation video game that told an excellent coming-of-age story and really succeeded in creating a unique world. The many metaphors drawn from last words are effective, poetic and work well (up until I begin having problems with the novel, as you’ll see).

I digress. The writing is not what kept me from completely enjoying Looking for Alaska. It was the tone.

I could not tell, particularly with ( FAIR WARNING MAJOR SPOILERS SERIOUSLY THIS WILL RUIN THE BOOKS INTENDED EFFECT SO DONT GO AHEAD IF YOU PLAN TO READ IT OR CARE ABOUT THE PLOT MUCH OK IM JUST SAYING READER) the death of Alaska Young that separates the before and after sections of the novel, how I was supposed to take these characters, to understand what they were saying.

 The first third of the book strikes me as a whimsical, charming story about acceptance and "fitting in" as an introverted, gawky, nerdy teenager. Nothing wrong with those stories, they're popular for a reason. Green succeeds in telling a story in the style of said archetype pretty well. Pudge, our narrator, is believably gawky, not the sort of 1950’s sitcom nerd fiction loves to depict. His friends, The Colonel, Takumi, and Lara defy most stereotypes (Lara even does a pretty good job of staying away from the typical Eastern European cliché, for the most part). Takumi in particular worked for me the best, in the sense that he was a textured character, interesting, and never did anything that brought me out of the reality of Culver Creek Green creates. The setting and those characters are filled with all of the tiny yet very important details that make up a real person.

The tone of the novel, however, becomes conflicted and gives me some serious problem once we really start seeing more of Alaska Young’s character. Honestly, looking back, I don’t think I particularly liked Alaska, and it’s absolutely fine to create a character that is not inherently likeable – but Green never makes it clear if we’re supposed to like her or not. I think this makes for some serious flaws in connecting with the characters and understanding what the hell we’re supposed to take from their wandering around the great labyrinth of suffering, as Pudge might say.

The whole time I was reading Alaska’s character, I wanted to tell her to grow the fuck up. I know this is a book intended for “young adults” (which is easily the most condescending genre ever), but often the mark of a good work of art is its ability to be enjoyed and understood by those outside its target audience (see Adventure Time, almost every Nintendo Game ever, the Harry Potter series, etc). Alaska is angst-filled and mysterious, quoting poetry and constantly yammering on about “inverting the patriarchal paradigm”. Don’t get me wrong, I have nothing wrong with strong, feminist characters. But Alaska feels like a parody one, and if we’re meant to take her seriously Green has inadvertently created a very sexist female figure!

 For all of Alaska’s rambling on about the objectification of women and patriarchy, she conforms to a patriarchal system herself. She’s implied to be constantly flirty and moody, and almost always talking about her omnipresent boyfriend Jake (who seems to take the news of her death and the fact Pudge and the Colonel did nothing to stop it pretty nonchalantly, the douchebag). The very first description we get of Alaska is about her body; Pudge notes she is the “hottest girl” he has ever seen. She often collapses into a crying wreck and seems to default on toying with Pudge’s emotions as a way of dealing with her problems. That sounds like a pretty sexist stereotype of attractive women to me. Even worse, even her closest friend, the Colonel, repeats throughout the novel “she can be a bitch, that’s part of Alaska”. So we’re to assume it is okay she’s just mean and rude to her closest friends merely because she’s a hot woman, and that’s just how they are?

I know the explanation the novel gives us is Alaska’s troubled past – she feels like it’s her fault her mother died when she was an eight year old child. But it’s so difficult to feel sympathetic for her due to this constant mysterious allure and mask of stoicism she hides behind, not to mention her constant “bitchy” moods. I get she’s hot. She’s got great tits. So I guess that’s enough to fall completely in love with her, obsessively so (referring to our narrator Pudge here) despite her serious emotional issues. Doesn’t this seem like a very sexist depiction of the very few female figures we’re given in the novel?

Now, this criticism is really only valid if green intends us to take her sincerely. If the intended tone of Alaska’s characterization is satirical instead, I get it. Green would then be demonstrating the destructive qualities of acting in the way Alaska does, and hiding behind a wall of pseudo-intellectualism in place of having a personality beyond being very flirtatious, hot, and mean to everyone. But reading from Pudge’s POV, I honestly don’t think this is a satirical novel. Pudge often waxes poetical throughout the novel (and I mean often like as often as Michael Bay blows shit up) about love, if Alaska like shim, so and so forth. He’s clearly bought her charade, and it seems Green wants the reader to buy it alongside Pudge. I never feel the words Pudge speaks are done so with any sort of dramatic irony; green never intends to distance us from the characters and their emotions. Instead we delve very deep into them and are intended to connect with them as much as possible. We’re meant to take this at face value, Alaska as a serious character, and the key relationship with Alaska everyone has fails when we accept this in a non-satirical light.

It’s a shame, because I really want to enjoy Looking for Alaska, but this thematic dissonance pulls me out of the story. Our narrator is so much harder to connect with or even believe as a credible storyteller when he keeps professing his love for Alaska while making out with a curvy (again, tities=feminism!) Romanian girl. I understand their only teenagers, and again, the characterization seems to want to be a parody of teenage angst, but the seriousness of Alaska’s death makes it impossible to read the story in that way. Their grief is real and believable, and I know it cannot be easy to deal with such a loss – but I don’t see any real change in the characters, particularly our narrator, at all throughout the grieving process. I mean, the Colonel pretty much hits the nail on the head when he describes our narrator as more obsessed with this fantasy love affair he created with Alaska (objectification of female sexuality as a prize rather than part of a person=feminism!), and even after being called out for it he never really changes his attitude there. To be fair, the last essay he writes that indicate Pudge is okay with Alaska being a mystery to him, but never once do I see a moment of self-realization where he says “holy shit, I’ve been a huge twat.”

I can't help but see the stupid mistakes I made as an obnoxious teenager I made in all of the characters. In that sense, I give Looking for Alaska credit; the characters are undeniably teens. Perhaps there's a little bit of self-loathing in my critique, but again; due to the novel's unclear tone, I am not sure if I am to feel sympathetic for these naive teens, as genuine people trying to understand their lives or see them as parodies of the age, or something else entirely.

I feel like this novel works as an excellent exploration of teenage inability to deal with love, emotion, trouble, and the need for guidance and development. In this regard, I’m glad the book is being taught more often in English classes around the world and so popular. I just think we ought to discuss the issue of its tonality I have brought up, because it is essential as to how the author intends for us to receive the message of Looking for Alaska. And despite Green’s writing chops, all the book left me with was difficult-to-like obnoxious narrator in love with an even bigger jerk who doesn’t seem to register the fact that the person (not the fantasy he created) is what died that night.

But that’s just me. Maybe you have a different idea. Don’t let me get away with this if you do. Let me know what you think.

Keep thinking,

Jordan