John Green’s Finding Alaska has captivated young adult readers for years, lauded for its poignant exploration of grief, identity, and the search for meaning. However, beneath the surface of quotable lines and introspective teenagers lies a novel that, upon closer examination, reveals itself to be less profound than it pretends to be. While the book tackles complex themes, its execution often falls short, resulting in characters that feel underdeveloped and a narrative that prioritizes melodrama over genuine emotional depth.
The story centers on Miles Halter, nicknamed “Pudge,” a self-proclaimed boring teenager obsessed with famous last words. Seeking a “Great Perhaps,” Miles leaves his uneventful life in Florida to attend Culver Creek Boarding School in Alabama. Immediately, Miles is positioned as an outsider, a trope common in YA literature, but here it feels less like a relatable struggle and more like a contrived setup for his eventual transformation. His defining characteristic, an interest in last words, is presented as a marker of depth, yet it comes across as superficial, a quirky trait meant to make him interesting without actually developing his inner life.
Shallow Characters in a Seemingly Deep World
Miles quickly falls in with a group of friends, including his roommate Chip “The Colonel” Martin, Takumi Hikohito, and the enigmatic Alaska Young. These characters are introduced with broad strokes, relying on stereotypical traits rather than nuanced personalities. The Colonel is defined by his intelligence and short temper, Takumi by his Asian heritage and tendency to talk with his mouth full – traits that feel more like boxes to be checked for diversity than genuine character development.
Chip "The Colonel" Martin, Miles's roommate, is introduced with broad strokes.
Alaska Young, the titular character, is presented as the ultimate manic pixie dream girl. She is beautiful, rebellious, reads “serious” books, and spouts philosophical musings. From the moment she is introduced recounting a story of being groped, Alaska is objectified, a trend that continues throughout the novel. Her allure is built on mystery and unpredictability, but this mystery often feels like a shield for a lack of genuine personality. Miles’s infatuation with Alaska is immediate and overwhelming, driven by her looks and her seeming intellectual depth, rather than any real connection or understanding of who she is.
The novel wants us to believe that these teenagers are profound thinkers grappling with existential questions. However, their “deep thoughts” often feel forced and unnatural, tacked on to conversations that otherwise revolve around typical teenage concerns like fitting in, romance, and rebellion. When Alaska transitions from talking about being groped to quoting Simón Bolívar, it highlights the jarring disconnect between the book’s attempts at profundity and its often superficial characterizations. The dialogue frequently feels unnatural, as if Green is trying too hard to make his characters sound intelligent and insightful, resulting in pronouncements rather than genuine conversation.
Plot Devices and Melodrama Over Substance
The plot of Finding Alaska relies heavily on dramatic events and manufactured conflict. Miles’s initiation into Culver Creek involves being duct-taped and thrown into a pond, an event portrayed as a rite of passage rather than a serious assault. This incident, and others like it, are used to create a sense of edginess and danger, but they often feel gratuitous and unbelievable.
The central conflict of the novel revolves around Alaska’s sudden death in a car crash. This event is meant to be a catalyst for profound grief and existential questioning, pushing Miles and his friends to grapple with the meaning of life and death. However, the handling of Alaska’s death feels manipulative. It is shrouded in mystery, with questions raised about whether it was an accident or suicide, adding to the melodrama rather than exploring the complexities of grief in a meaningful way.
The characters’ reactions to Alaska’s death, while presented as deeply emotional, often come across as performative. They engage in elaborate pranks and philosophical debates in her memory, activities that feel more like plot devices to keep the story moving than authentic expressions of grief. The “existential crisis” that Miles and his friends experience feels manufactured, a teenage angst amplified to melodramatic levels without genuine emotional resonance.
Comparisons to Classic YA Literature
The original review aptly compares Finding Alaska to classic works of young adult literature, highlighting its shortcomings by contrasting it with books that feature genuinely complex characters and themes. Characters like Huck Finn, Jo March, Anne Shirley, and Scout Finch are brought up as examples of protagonists who are flawed and real, facing genuine challenges and developing in meaningful ways.
Unlike these characters, Miles and Alaska feel like archetypes rather than fully realized individuals. They lack the depth and nuance of characters in classic YA novels, and their struggles, while presented as profound, often pale in comparison to the authentic challenges faced by characters like Scout Finch in To Kill a Mockingbird or Jo March in Little Women. These classic characters grapple with societal injustices, personal growth, and moral dilemmas in ways that resonate deeply with readers, while the problems faced by Miles and Alaska often feel self-absorbed and lacking in real-world consequence.
Even Eustace Scrubb from The Voyage of the Dawn Treader, initially presented as insufferable and self-centered, undergoes a significant character arc and learns valuable lessons about humility and empathy. This kind of genuine character development is largely absent in Finding Alaska. Miles remains passive and reactive throughout much of the novel, and Alaska’s character is defined by her tragic fate rather than her internal growth or change.
Objectification and the Male Gaze
A significant criticism of Finding Alaska is its objectification of the titular character. From her introduction to Miles’s constant descriptions of her physical appearance, Alaska is consistently viewed through the male gaze. Miles’s attraction to her is heavily focused on her body, and his internal monologues frequently dwell on her curves and physical attributes, even during supposedly deep conversations.
This objectification undermines any attempt to portray Alaska as a complex or empowering female character. She becomes a figure to be desired and mourned, rather than a fully realized individual with her own agency and inner life. While the novel may intend to explore teenage desire and infatuation, it often veers into uncomfortable territory, reducing Alaska to a collection of physical attributes and enigmatic pronouncements, rather than a person with genuine depth.
Conclusion: Rethinking the “Great Perhaps” of Finding Alaska
Finding Alaska achieved significant popularity and critical acclaim, resonating with readers who connected with its themes of grief, identity, and the search for meaning. However, a closer examination reveals a novel that is ultimately more style than substance. The characters are underdeveloped, the plot relies on melodrama, and the attempts at profundity often feel forced and unnatural.
While John Green’s prose is accessible and engaging, it lacks the depth and nuance to truly explore the complex themes it attempts to address. Finding Alaska, despite its popularity, falls short of the mark set by classic young adult literature. It offers a superficial exploration of teenage angst and existentialism, ultimately failing to deliver the genuine emotional resonance and character depth that would make it a truly memorable and meaningful read. For readers seeking a more authentic and nuanced exploration of these themes in YA literature, there are far richer and more rewarding books to discover.
