Finding Alaska?

Has anyone else ever felt lonely after finishing a book? Not just lonely in the sense that I'm sitting here by myself, away from other people, but lonely in the sense of the world. Like if I got up off the couch and went out with friends, I'd still feel this nagging 'It's just me' feeling. I don't mean me is the center of my world because I hope it isn't. I just mean the loneliness never goes away.

People sometimes live for selfish reasons and we don't always know what those reasons are. "Looking for Alaska" left me feeling lonely and unsure not only of the characters' selfish reasons but of my own as well. I hate when people point out my flaws (as if I don't already see them), but even more so I hate when books point them out. This author, this character that has no idea I'm reading him and who has never met me (and probably never will) is showing me how selfish I am and how I should learn to be more forgiving.

He's right, though. It's true, I am selfish. As much as I dislike having my nose rubbed in it, I believe that's one mark of a successful book. A great book can open your heart as widely or as narrowly as you choose to open its covers.

It's tough to write about this particular book without giving away the story. The damage happens fairly early on, and the repercussions make for quite a fallout. Yes, it's a typical story of love and teen angst, something I'd probably have cared to read more in the ninth grade, but still not bad.

“It always shocked me when I realized that I wasn't the only person in the world who thought and felt such strange and awful things.”