by Em Matison
Nearing on 20 years after its release, Looking for Alaska is still making waves. Although this is not due to a new reader base, in fact it’s due to the lack of one. Green’s maiden novel has, once again, found itself on the list of banned books in American public schools due to concerns around it’s “pornographic properties” and “explicit language”
This is a young adult novel, which is evident in its style and structure, and should be taken as such. If you read this book as an adult, as with most things, you will, undoubtedly, have a wildly different reading experience. With all the innocence of youth, you’d get to experience a first love, a first loss, and the enchantment of adolescent rebellion. As jaded adults, we roll our eyes at the childlike ignorance and the displays of trendy fake fortitude. The young adult reader may even feel seen, and find themselves, through the mysterious, shaky, yet formidable, female lead, which, I’m sure, is just what the petitioning parents are worried about.
It is true that there is what can hardly be called, a sex scene (it alludes to the idea of sexual activity), and it is certainly understandable that it would be considered as such when targeted toward tweens. However, to say that the one awkward, intimate, moment is a central tenant to the tale is woefully degrading. In fact, it is more accurate to see that moment as a juxtaposition, to emphasize the emotional intimacy in later moments. Green was not aiming to obtain shock-value by having a teenage sex scene in his debut novel. In fact, he resents the idea that it could be considered pornography. Green states, “Of course I might be wrong, books belong to their readers, but I just don’t think Looking for Alaska is pornography and I think reading it that way is a little weird.” He was telling a story realistic of the times we live in and using something that is universally understood as part of the human experience to show connection in its different forms.
While the plotline did feel, at times, predictably clumsy, it was easily accessible and well-crafted for its target audience. Alaska, the stereotypical representation of the damaged off-brand cool girl, speaks to the souls of all those that yearn to be different, or rather those that are different and yearn to be confident enough to show it. Her “I don’t give a damn” attitude and individualistic persona captures not just the reader’s attention but, her literary co-star, Pudge’s as well.
If author’s solely created characters that are “good guys” fiction would be a whole lot less interesting. We could criticize Pudge’s misogyny and objectification of females; we could be outraged at Green for giving such traits to a key character, but the thing is, these characters exist in real life. We don’t like to have them come to life in the books we read because we don’t like that they exist. Alternatively, we see something lovable in them, we often enjoy villains (of which Pudge really isn’t) because they let us imagine a piece of ourselves that will never exist and we may then empathize with their position. Green seems to guide us, often explicitly, towards what we should feel and how we should react, to events and characters, which is an author’s right, but can often backfire. You overtly want me to believe this character is good? I may be inclined to rebel.
Looking For Alaska is far from pornography, in reality it deals with concepts such as grief, loss, and human connection, which every single person will experience at some point in their lives. Young adults need books like this, they need to see their experiences in media to understand more about the condition they are suffering from, the human condition. Without books that show the different sides of being a young adult, without showing the unique struggles, youth may be without a mirror in which to look in and see company and, thanks to Green’s weaving, an underlying string of hope: “We need never be hopeless because we can never be irreparably broken.”
This was Green’s first novel and it would not stand a chance if compared to his more recent work but even then, his prowess with words is undeniable. You can take his books out of the libraries, but you will never get them out of the hearts of those he’s reached.
Em Matison is an Australian freelance reviewer, and amateur poet, who loves to experience the arts, whether they’re in written form, on screen, or on stage. She was crowned the winner of the National Campus Writing Competition in 2019 for her poem “The School of Lost and Found.”
Em holds a Bachelors of Psychology from Edith Cowan University and spent time as a collegiate athlete in the United States. If she’s not in her flow-state out in a sporting arena, she can be found grounding herself in the great outdoors.
