Recently I received a free signed copy of Turtles All The Way Down, by John Green. Well, actually, it was two weeks ago. Also actually I got more than one copy, but the second copy, which I received before I got my hands on the first copy because I got it in person on launch day, was part of the goodie bag for the book tour event that I went to. And while the book wasn’t something I purchased per se as a discrete product, I did pay for the ticket to the event. Or rather, my family paid, because this was a family outing, and so everyone came and got signed books.
All that is to say that there is now an appreciable stack of signed Turtles All The Way Down books sitting, conspicuously arranged in a sort of spiral stack (Turtles All The Way Down, all the way down), on our countertop, and that these books were acquired, depending on how you average the cost per book and whether you factor in the intangible value of the book tour event, either for free, at a very inflated price, or somewhere in between.
I was told when I was promised my free copy and asked for a shipping address that this was meant as a token. Not payment, nor tribute to curry favor, but a gift. Because I was part of a community, and had been following and involved in the book’s development, even when neither I nor anyone else knew that John was working on a book, and my participation was worth something, and that this signed copy was a token of that meaning.
Maybe I just have trouble accepting compliments and credit. It wouldn’t be the first time that this has come up. Even so, there is a sort of convention whereby if you are set a free copy of a book by an author or their publishing staff, that you will endeavor to review it (preferably with glowing praise). And while I am generally not a stickler for social convention, this one is close enough to the thing that I was going to do anyways. So here goes.
One more note before I begin: there is also a convention of referring to authors by their last name when reviewing them. I’m not going to do that for a couple of reasons. First, because John Green has a brother, Hank Green, who also writes. Second, because, as noted, receiving this book is a personal token of sorts. And while I may not be strictly on a first name basis with John Green, insofar as I do know him and have had limited contact with him, he has always been John to me. To call him otherwise would feel strange and insincere.
People with only a passing familiarity with John and his work might be surprised that I am such a staunch fan. After all, his works, and especially his previous work, The Fault In Our Stars, are often pigeonholed as stereotypical “teen-girl gushy romance novels”. Like in all stereotypes, there are some elements of truth in this, especially if one is of the inclination to consign anything containing teenage girl protagonists and a romantic arc to a lesser status.
Nevertheless I maintain that TFIOS also manages to effectively introduce several hard-hitting themes and questions. It tackles, among other things, chronic illness in a way that is, if not always perfectly realistic in the strictest academic sense, then at least realistically personal. That is to say, TFIOS tells an accurate first-person story, even if telling the story from the perspective of the protagonist makes it somewhat dubiously personal from other perspectives.
You will notice that while I talk about John’s use of themes and ideas and other English class topics, I have barely mentioned the actual plot, characters, and related. This is, at least in my interpretation, an important distinction and recurring theme. John is decent enough at plot and characters and all those other things. But this is only one element of writing, and in John’s case, I will submit, not the main event. Where John excels is at integrating themes, questions, ideas, and concepts into a digestible and empathetic narrative. And Turtles All The Way Down is John doing this at his best.
In TATWD, John discusses important questions about mental health, chronic pain, the nature of love and friendship, inequality, loss, privilege, and the philosophy of consciousness, all bound up in a nice YA novel.
The parallel I keep coming back to is George Orwell’s work. Most likely, if you’re reading, say, 1984, you’re not doing so to hear about Winston and Julia’s thrilling romantic relationship, nor to see how Winston climbs the workplace ladder at the Ministry of Truth. You’re reading to have the big ideas unpacked for you and presented in a way that you can grapple with. You’re exploring the world, and Winston just happens to be your vessel for doing so.
Sure, you could skip Animal Farm in school, and get everything you’d need to know from skimming a history textbook on the Soviet Union. But reading the story version is probably going to make it easier to understand and digest. Simply hearing that a bunch of people were shot a long time ago in a country far away, doesn’t click in the human mind the same way reading about animals you’ve come to love turn on each other does.
Similarly, you could skip Turtles All The Way Down, and go over the Wikipedia pages for OCD, Anxiety, and the philosophy of consciousness. But in addition to missing the story aspect (which is good, despite my maintaining that it takes a backseat), it’s probably not going to have the same hold on you. Humans are first-person creatures, and having something framed as a first person view is immensely powerful.
In conclusion, I think Turtles All The Way Down is a very good, very powerful book. It’s not perfect by a long shot, and I waver on whether I like it better or worse than TFIOS, which has long contended for my favorite book I have yet read. It isn’t exactly an apples to apples comparison, which will come as good news to those who felt TFIOS struck too close to the teen-girl romance stereotype. Even so, my signed copy of TATWD has earned its place in my collection next to my beloved signed copy of TFIOS, which is among the highest honors I can bestow.