If we’re getting back into it – we’ll go deep (into the recesses of my brain).
I’ve written about this before: I spend a lot of time in my own head. I analyze and overanalyze, think and overthink. I try to establish every possible outcome and naturally consider worst case scenarios, which is as beneficial as it can be paralyzing. I hate being caught off-guard, so there is some comfort in this line of thinking – but it also means I’m usually walking around with a bag that weighs 30 pounds, full of “just in case” items. (On the plus side, I almost always have an umbrella.)
Aza – our main character – takes this concept to a higher level. Told from her perspective, we’re privy to every spiraling thought that runs through her mind…and there are a lot. Every interaction is fraught with anxiety, every open wound is an opportunity to breed fatal bacteria. At her worst moments, she violently argues with herself, trying to fight off the thoughts that naturally come into her head; her best moments are not quiet moments, just ones that are a little less scary than the really loud ones. It’s not difficult to feel the exhaustion Aza feels on a second-by-second basis – and heartbreaking when you realize that she is aware of her own spiral but prisoner to how her brain processes her daily activity.
John Green has spoken openly about his own challenges with mental illness, and in interviews, he has shared that Aza’s experiences mirror his own. He tells the story of the title, which is based on a fable that states that the earth is held up by turtles standing on other turtles standing on other turtles and so on. It’s just turtles – all the way down until forever. The meaning has been debated, but my interpretation is simple: you can go as far down as you want into an exploration of your own foundation, but in an infinite stack, you’ll never have a full understanding of what’s down deep at the bottom – because there isn’t one.
I happened to watch Garden State this weekend – more in advance of seeing The Shins in concert later this week than anything else, but it was interesting to notice the parallels of main characters who are externally quiet but have a loud and commanding internal narrative. It’s probably telling that it’s one of my favorite movies (yeah, yeah – I know), mainly because it’s the kind of movie that grows with you, with your understanding of the characters changing as you change too. Turtles is likely the same – you’ll probably pick out different parts that resonate based on where you are in your own life.
On a final note, I thought that Paper Towns was my first carlyreads book, so this felt like a poetic circle to restart on the same; turns out, it was the second. (The first was The Opposite of Loneliness, which is absolutely something you should read right now if you haven’t.) This is apropos of very little except plugs for two of my earliest carlyreads posts. I’m happy to be back.
I said it before and I’ll say it here as well – I’m not a Young Adult fanatic, but John Green seems to transcend labels like that. Don’t let the classification turn you off.
You’ll like this if: you like books that bring you directly into the mind of the narrator for every messy, confusing, frustrating thought.
Happy reading!
Suggested Listening: John Green on The Hilarious World of Depression podcast, which I found through the Terrible, Thanks for Asking podcast, which I found while searching for a different podcast…thus continuing the endless loop of podcast suggestions we’re all in these days.
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