1. Is forgiveness universal? I mean, is forgiveness really available to all people, no matter the circumstances? Is it, for instance, possible for the dead to forgive the living, and for the living to forgive the dead? Personally, I believe that just about everything is forgivable. I do have a difficult time with things like child molestors, rapists, and the like, but otherwise, with a little time and attempt at understanding the other person, most everything is forgivable. It might take some time, but ultimately, I think that especially between close friends and/or family members, we should strive for forgiveness with everything we have. Sometimes we do have to forgive the dead even though the dead aren't here for us to say the words to them personally, for our own well-being, we need to say or write the words as if we are speaking directly to the dead loved one.
2. I would argue that both in fiction and in real life, teenage smoking is a symbolic action. What do you think it's intended to symbolize, and what does it actually end up symbolizing? To phrase this question differently: Why would anyone ever pay money in exchange for the opportunity to acquire lung cancer and/or emphysema? Having never smoked a day in my life (cigarettes, pot, or anything else), I'm not really sure how to answer this question. I don't have a clue what smoking symbolizes for the adolescent. I have no idea why teens do it when they know what it does to their bodies and their health. Then again, why does anything do anything that endangers their health--over-eating, bulemia, anorexia, alcohol, drugs, etc. In hazarding a guess at the symbolism of smoking, I guess I'd say that it symbolizes teens' desire to feel adult. They're on the cusp of adulthood and smoking is one way that makes them feel more grown-up. They DECIDE, CHOOSE for themselves and doing so always makes a person feel empowered.
3. Do you like Alaska? Do you think it's important to like people you read about? I admit that Alaska and I would not have been friends [in high school]. I didn't hang out with people who smoked, did drugs, and/or drank. I just didn't. I like the fact that Alaska is a "hurricane" because it demonstrates her fun personality. I can also relate to Alaska's suffering. I didn't lose my mom, but I did deal with several horrific losses. From that perspective, I GET Alaska's angst. I don't think it's important to like people I read about. I think that sometimes we, as the reader, are supposed to dislike a character. For example, in Gillian Flynn's GONE GIRL, I found myself disliking both the husband and the wife! But I think that was something Flynn might have been shooting for.
4. By the end of this novel, Pudge has a lot to say about immortality and what the point of being alive is (if there is a point). To what extent do your thoughts on mortality shape your understanding of life's meaning? As someone who, sadly, has dealt with several horrific losses, immortality is possible only in the memories and hearts of the loved ones left behind. We never really forget the loved one, but the pain of losing our loved ones does diminish as time goes on. There are still days when the pain is severe and impossible--again--to deal with, but we find ways of coping, of remembering, and for those us still here on this earth, life does go on.
5. How would you answer the old man's final question for his students? What would your version of Pudge's essay look like? "How will you--you personally--ever get out of this labyrinth of suffering?" Or, "What is your cause for hope?" (178). This is probably the most difficult question of all to answer, as Pudge found when it was given to him for his final exam question. I have found that life--school--experiences--doesn't/don't prepare us for the "labyrinth of suffering." When something bad happens, especially the loss of a loved one, we are totally unprepared for everything that comes with Grieving--even when death is expected such as in a loved one who is dying. I know that when my Baba (Grandma) died, we knew that she was fading quickly. The doctor had called to tell us that she was sure my Baba would pass on within the next 24 to 48 hours. My family arrived and we sang to her (she loved to hear my uncles, especially--her sons--sing). When she finally stopped breathing some time later that night (my sister was with her), the news the next morning still hit me like a ton of bricks. It was still incredibly painful. We--my family and I--found comfort in each other as we shared beloved memories of my Baba and laughed, smiled, and joked about the wonderful life she'd lived. I still miss my Baba; I always will, but that family time together after her death was certainly a path through the "labyrinth of suffering."
When I lost my babies, though, because I was the only one to have gotten to know them (one stillbirth, two miscarriages), I didn't have anyone, not really, to share funny memories with. My family did surround me, though, and help hold me up through that time. I know I would have curled up into a ball and just stayed in bed--never getting up to shower, go to work, etc.--if it hadn't been for the loving arms, love, comfort, and support of my beloved friends and family.
So I guess my answer to the question about how will I navigate the "labyrinth of suffering" is to say that I won't do it alone.....
Quotes from LOOKING FOR ALASKA:
"'Francois Rabelais. He was this poet. And his last words were 'I go to see a Great Perhaps'" (14).
"...the labyrinth....'Suffering...Doing wrong and having wrong things happen to you. That's the problem. Bolivar was talking about the pain, not about the living or dying. Who do you get out of the labyrinth of suffering?'" (77).
"...oppressive weight of tragedy..." (127)
"How will we ever get out of this labyrinth of suffering?--A.Y." (133).
"For she had embodied the Great Perhaps--she had proved to me that it was worth it to leave behind my minor life for grander maybes..." (145).
"You can't just make yourself matter and then die, Alaska, because now I am irretrievable different..." (145).
"When you stopped wishing things wouldn't fall apart, you'd stop suffering when they did" (163).
"She didn't leave me enough to discover her, but she left me enough to rediscover the Great Perhaps" (175).
"How will you--you personally--ever get out of this labyrinth of suffering?...What is your cause for hope?" (178).
"straight and fast" (179+ various other pages)
"...we had to forgive to survive in the labyrinth....If only we could see the endless string of consequences that result from our smallest actions. But we can't know better until knowing better is useless" (180).
"I wrote my way out of the labyrinth" (180).
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