"Do you ever wonder whether people would like you more or less if they could see inside you? I mean, I've always felt like the Katherines dump me right when they start to see what I look like from the inside--well, except K-19. But I always wonder about that. If people could see me the way I see myself--if they could live in my memories--would anyone, anyone love me?"
An Abundance of Katherines is the first John Green book I have read. I was in Chicago when I bought the book and what better way to commemorate Greater America than buying a book that starts in Chicago and ends somewhere near (Gutshot, Carver County, Tennessee)?1. It is a book about a child prodigy-slash-Dumpee named Colin Singleton, writing the perfect theorem to prove his genius and make something out of his failed relationships. Nineteen (ALL!) of which (technically, eighteen, because K-1 and K-19 were one and the same) were with a Katherine, hence the title.
It's hard to write something about this book because I love it without a solid reason. I just like it because it reminds myself of myself, in some parts, and that's a pretty lame reason to use when writing about a book. I'd say this book is for everyone who, as a teenager, went through unexplainable longing and confusion (Aren't you glad we're way past that dramatic, angsty, very cranky stage?). It will remind you of your youth and assure you of how far you have come, now that you are old enough. If you are as young as Colin, you will know--by the end of this book--that you'll just have to carry on and look for something to hold on to because life doesn't stop when you're hurt, even if you want it to.
What I like about the book:
1. Lindsay Lee Wells whom I can sort of relate to, in terms of chameleoning in and out of personas whenever she's in the company of somebody. Not that I am as hot as her or anything, but I've always been the average semi-threatening-but-cannot-really-throttle-anybody-kind of underachiever. The kind of girl you mark as a threat in the beginning but cuts herself out of the competition halfway through. I hate it, but that's always been my signature move. (Huh? Yes.)
"I'm full of shit. I'm never myself. I've got a Southern accent around the oldsters; I'm a nerd for graphs and deep thoughts around you; I'm Miss Bubbly Pretty Princess with Colin. I'm nothing. The thing about chameleoning your way through life is that it gets you to where nothing is real"
"...Things about you, and things about Colin, and things about Hassan and Katrina, are either true or they aren't true. Katrina is bubbly. Hassan is hilarious. But I'm not like that. I'm what I need to be at any moment to stay above the ground but below the radar.
The only sentences that begins with 'I' that's true of me is I'm full of shit"
And that, ladies and gentlemen, is what I feel most of the time.
2. I didn't really realize I was reading YA until I was halfway towards the end of the book and googling stuff about it. It turns out I am not alone in this sentiment.
3. The whole book is filled with nerdy footnotes and anagrams. I like footnotes, in general, because it helps me understand the text. I also love footnotes because it used to help me make better cheatsheets in high school. Anagrams, on the other hand, are word games I've always been fascinated with but never really bothered to be good at. So, past is past but I do love a good reminder of my failures in life.
4. Colin Singleton likes to sulk and read books, is fond of self-pitying his way throughout the day and is secretly as good with the ladies as he is with learning languages (He tries hard, I believe, and that's how you nail it). He gets annoying in the end (only because if I were a prodigy, I wouldn't even spend time thinking about boys. I will enroll in Northwestern straight-up and get a few philosophy classes running before September hits), but sympathy is hard to forsake if you have been a Colin Singleton once. (If you haven't, screw you. You missed out on... a lot of chocolates, some noodles and Kleenex consumerism). It's hard not to rally behind this boy because his problems, no matter how pathetic ("I do not matter") or stupid (End of Theorem: The future is unpredictable) they are, have been our problem once, too. Maybe not exactly, but we've all been there. We've all felt alone, confused, and very, very, very irrelevant.
5. Hassan, Colin's pudgy, Judge Judy loving best friend. I like sidekicks who steal the lead's thunder in stories, in any story. I found myself laughing at Hassan's lines, usually accompanied with Arabic words, and at the incongruency of his behavior and his religion. He also reminds me of myself, mostly because I am a fat kid with really horrible asthma attacks and I sometimes use that as an excuse to miss school. Really, no one can tell the difference.
If you are a somebody who's always looking for somebody else, if you are running after a past love or if you are STILL sulking about the loss of a seemingly perfect one, then this book is for you. It is for Dumpees mulling over (and consequently, if you are a bitter girl like me, finding painfully pathetic ways to declare your sadness--like blogging! Cheerio!) their constant stature, and for anybody who just wants somebody to love them back. I could tell you that this book has fantastic geekery only a certain people can relate to but in truth, and this is something we all know, it is for everyone because we all want to be wanted, Dumpers and Dumpees alike.
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1In hindsight, it was a bad idea to leave Looking for Alaska lying on that shelf. Finding John Green books in Manila is just as hard (or even harder) as scoring a boyfriend who can discuss books about awkwardness and geekery with you.
