The Perks of Being a Wallflower, by Stephen Chbosky

“And in that moment, I swear we were infinite”

Before I share my own opinions and feelings about the book, I will, in short, address the critical readers who have rated this book negatively. It is interesting to me how a lot of these low rating readers of the book seem to take an issue with the fanbase, rather than with the book itself. They claim that the book has formed a cult-like following. I frequently come across the same critique with Haruki Murakami’s writings. This might have a simple explanation. People who love these books and recommend them set high too high expectations for future readers, who therefore end up disappointed. If someone says that X has changed their life, don’t expect it to necessarily change yours, after every page. After all, Murakami is a bit of an acquired taste and surrealism isn’t for everyone (particularly, not for people who expect their readings to make perfect sense).  In addition, I suspect, to really love “The perks…”, you have to identify strongly with the main character, Charlie, and therefore, be a wallflower (a person who feels awkward in the company of others, in a way an introvert). Statistically, extroverts outnumber introverts.

Personally, I do strongly identify with Charlie. In fact, I instantly put him up to the top three book characters upon whom I see myself reflected (the other two being Dostoyevsky’s Prince Mishkin, in The Idiot, and Hesse’s Damian, in Damian). On another note, as people grow up and mature, they seem to switch more into a literary critique perspective rather than enjoying books for what they are. They analyze the stories, in terms of elements of style, depth and so on and often not for the story itself. I noticed in myself quite early and therefore made the conscious decision to avoid it. A story can be meaningful and life changing even if the construction of the sentences lacks literary beauty.

Now back to the specific book. “The perks…” is written in letter form. Charlie writes letters to an unknown receiver, telling him details of his life. In an odd way, I felt both like the writer and receiver of these letters.

One particular part of the book that hit home for me was when Sam (Charlies’ friend who he is also in love with, in a weird game) tells Charlie that just because you do a lot of things for others, sacrificing yourself, doesn’t mean that you are a great friend (or in general, a good person). That there are more aspects to human interactions. That you need to be able to tell people that they are wrong (when you are convinced so), to express your own needs and desires and to learn to say no. If you like someone, you need to learn to approach them, let them know and take your chances, even if that means rejection. Not just do good in silence and expect them to love you for it, and come to you (this is rather egoistic, isn’t it?). When Charlie and Sam had this conversation and they end up kissing and almost sleeping together, I knew how much my life could have been different if I understood this in time. Because I know that being rejected by the girl I once knew and loved would have been much better and less painful than never telling her.    

I want to conclude by saying that I wish I had read this book when I was in high school because that would have made me feel much less lonely, knowing that there are people out there like me. That I wasn’t the only one who felt a particular way. I wouldn’t feel like the only wallflower in the entire world. Here, therefore, in my opinion, lies the real value of this book.

Love always,

Mr. Moon.

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