BOOK REVIEW : PAPER TOWNS

Paper Towns is a story of discovery. It is a story of the search for the truth. It is a story of, as the back of the book says, an unavoidable question- who is the real Margo?
Paper Towns starts off with an adventure. A boy used to routines, a girl craving adventure. Together they make the perfect pair. The start has everything to get you hooked on to the book. Adventurous, spirited Margo, routine and Margo loving Quentin, High School drama, an all night revenge road trip and a sudden disappearance. At first it seemed like an ordinary story. Not out of the box but playing to the rules of teenage books. But trust me, I was wrong. So wrong.
Paper Towns goes on to become a beautiful book. A story so worth reading. It has its moments. There are tiny things that fascinated me. For example, the main character, Quentin, always speaks about Margo using her full name, Margo’s obsession with capitalization of random letters (“The rules of capitalization are so unfair to words in the middle”), the importance of an online resource called Omnictionary, the excessive use of the word honeybunny, subdivisions,black santas, pseudovisions, the poem- Leaves Of Grass and so much more.
John Green’s writing is far too good. The best word I can think of to describe it is magical. His writing, according to me, is magic. It captivates you and fascinates you and there were actually moments when I put down the book for a second to marvel at a certain paragraph or phrase. Paper Towns, for me, is three hundred and five pages of magic, stored in the best way possible- in the form of a book.
There are many paragraphs and instances that I want to tell you to look out for but I will not ruin the experience for you as I believe you should go through the book the way you feel like, without any external influence. But just to give you an idea of the writing of John Green, here’s a paragraph from the book.
“I spent the next three hours in classrooms, trying not to look at the clocks above various blackboards, and then looking at the clocks, and then being amazed that only a few minutes had passed since I last looked at the clock. I’d nearly four years of experience looking at these clocks, but their sluggishness never ceased to surprise. If I am ever told that I have one day to live, I will head straight for the hallowed halls of Winter Park High School, where a day has been known to last a thousand years.”
You’re already searching for the book online, aren’t you?

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