

"That explains the aura of sophistication." (2.21) When Augustus first meets her, he's struck by how readerly she is and how she doesn't even go to school with other teenagers. Plus, she seriously exists in her own little world, devil-may-care attitude and all. She's got that short pixie haircut that catches Augustus's attention. Hazel's marches to the beat of her own drummer. What do you think: is she handling her impending death well or is she hiding some deeper sadness? In order to answer that, we should probably get to know her a little better. I didn't tell him that the diagnosis came three months after I got my first period. She doesn't talk about her illness in lurid, self-pitying detail at all instead, she tackles it with a healthy dose of humor: She's also not sitting around feeling sorry for herself.

Hazel knows that even though she's on a drug that keeps her tumors in check, she'll never be your typical teenage cheerleader. This is a girl who has no illusions about her state of health. But in fact, depression is not a side effect of cancer. Whenever you read a cancer booklet or website or whatever, they always list depression among the side effects of cancer. From the beginning, she wastes no time in laying out her situation without any fluff or self-consciousness: But Hazel herself opens the book with that fact, so we figured we should, too. Yeah, we know, cancer doesn't define her.
