Dear Michael Crichton,

I can't feel the same things any more. My self-righteousness, my minuscule thinking, my pride, all of them had been rubbed off. I was numb for days after reading Jurassic Park. A new someone was born, someone who understood the vastness of this great rock, compared to the minute human beings that can barely penetrate its rugged skin. That someone had found out so much about matter.

Objectivity is the key to understanding anything, and Jurassic Park has just that. I'm not sure how I can use this sudden understanding of life, but I love it. Ian Malcolm was the one to whom I have been referring. He, a fictional character, taught me how to think. He taught me about the fractal, chaos theory, and true vastness of the rock we call Earth. I wouldn't know life, were it not for him. I now know that the universe, even just the earth, is too big for any human, machine, or plant to change. Your fictional character has taught me more than I have ever known to be possible from one in a book.

Reading your book threw me off for a few days, and I don't mean that I was behind on school work. I couldn't do anything besides the stuff. My biggest change was that I couldn't feel happy or sad, unbound, or caged, ignorant or omniscient. I'm trying to say that your book had restructured me, but nothing stayed inside me. It was like a group of children had finished building the tallest sand castle ever, and were laying the final rocks in place, when, suddenly, the sand was all blown away.

My new someone turned out to be different. He didn't mind work, and he also realized why everyone was so nearsighted: by all thinking that they're completely different, they all become the same.

I am now a new person, who has developed the habits of the old person, like a desert oasis with very specific curves and dunes beside it, that suddenly becomes home to a great rush of oil. You sucked me clean and built a system out of the hard steel of realism inside of me. You turned me into a shell. Thank you.

Sincerely,
Connor Boyle

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Dear Scott Westerfeld,

Uglies is the book with all the answers to all the questions that kept me up at night when I was little. I always wondered what the world would be like if everyone was the same, if everyone was pretty, or if everyone was ugly. Sometimes, my mom would read me stories about little boys who wished that everyone was like their grandpas, and when they woke up, everyone would be clones of their grandpa. These books sparked questions but never really answered them. But when I read Uglies, these questions were quickly answered in great detail by Tally’s adventures and hardships, throughout the book. I discovered the significance of diversity and freedom in our lives, but most importantly, individuality. In Uglies, at the age of 16 the Uglies had to become pretty, and in order to avoid the operation that makes you look and act just like everyone else, people had to run away to the Ruins, constantly being sought out by the Specials. In the U.S., we have freedom of speech and we’re allowed to have freedom of expression, without having to be brainwashed and have lesions put into our brains. Your book taught me to love this freedom and diversity and think how dull the world would be without it.

I loved every satisfying end and cliffhanger of each of the chapters of Uglies, which were each packed with an equal balance of action, entertainment, and thrill. I couldn’t help but feel sorry for her when Shay argued with her, and when Dr. Cable threatened her, or restrain myself some times when I wanted to applaud for Tally, when she did something that pleased me. The events in your story reminded me of the dreams and nightmares I would have when I was little—riding on broom sticks or running away from home and meeting all kinds of strange, “interesting,” or just plain scary people. But the event that happened to remind me the most of my dreams in Uglies was when Tally traveled back to the Ruins by herself, following Shay’s riddle directions. The riddle was quite difficult to figure out by myself. I was only able to make sense out of it, after reading the whole book a second time. I had completely forgotten about Tally disliking the left side of her face the most when the riddle read, “Take the side you despise the most,” because it was so much earlier in the book, while the rest of the riddle referred mostly to the events while she was already traveling. I really wished that I could’ve at least been able to solve the riddle when all the information had already been laid out for me earlier in the story, to feel that great feeling of worthwhile effort.

Even though I never received that great sensation by figuring out the riddle, I felt even better just from reading Uglies. It made me think, it made me imagine, and it made my mind wander into possibilities of the story’s end. The evenly set out attributes, plot, and characters, together, created valuable lessons about betrayal and trust. Your book is one of the first to keep my nose in the book, ignoring the world, and looking forward to the sentence on the page with a deep sense of concentration I had never felt before.

Sincerely,
Melanie Chang

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Dear Sterling North,

When I first started to read your book Rascal, I thought, “Oh well, this is a nice book, but there isn’t a lot of action in it. This is a book written by a person from the old days. I like plasma guns with humanoid robots walking about better.” But soon, after reading more, I began to realize that this book was better than plasma guns and robots.

I thought how great it would be to live in a time when for children, instead of video games, there were pie eating contest and other outdoorsy things that you could do. The thoughts of what I did when I was near seven years old came flashing back to me. The running around our yard chasing my little brother, getting dragged into the lake by a large fish, or just lying down on the cool grass listening to the squirrels argue over nuts. Everything was mostly peaceful and didn’t have the rush of today, where people hurry to get everything done as fast as possible.

Today, there isn’t the relaxed, peaceful feeling that people back 90 years ago had. This book had the fun of a boy romping around with a raccoon, yet it also had a serene feeling that books today lack with all their fighting and action paragraphs. When there were squabbles between Rascal and Poe, it reminded me of my brother and me when we argued over something small like the immature humans we are. We were like Rascal and Poe, but they were cuter. When Sterling awoke in the night to hear Theo yelling because of Rascal, I could just see Rascal’s expression of curiosity at a lady in front of him more than ten times his size scream for help.

Previously, I have read a book, put it down after I finished, and gone on with my life with the book as just a minuscule chapter in my life. But after I read Rascal, I looked on my life and how time was used. Unlike Sterling, I spent most of my time arguing with my brother or complaining, both of which were useless in the outline of life. I had never really thought about enjoying life, I don’t mean not doing your homework or anything your parents told you, but to value life as something that is worth more that work. Your book has given me a new thought in life. Thank you.

Sincerely,
Toby Chen

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Dear Daniel Keyes,

When I was young I dreamt of becoming a fireman, a racecar driver or an astronaut. When you’re young you know what you want to be and you’ll do anything to be it. But as you grow older, you begin to understand the responsibilities, you begin to understand the consequences: you learn all the ugly truths. When you see a face it never changes, but when you look at a picture with the face frozen in the past you realize it has aged and you haven’t even noticed. The same forces twist your dreams and turn them into something unfamiliar. Eventually your dream is a murky memory washed away by reality. This is the fruit that is never as sweet as you hoped. This is what Charlie taught me in Flowers for Algernon.

Each progress report tightened the knot in my stomach as Charlie began to realize the harshness of his surroundings, drifting away from his painless state of innocence. I was absorbed by each new revelation, each new loss. I walked with Charlie as he stumbled through a steep ravine as the world came crashing down upon him. I too felt the sands of victory and bliss slip through my fingers.

It is difficult to give an explanation of why life was put in this world. It is difficult to give an explanation, one definite purpose to life. As a living individual, it is necessary to discover an answer to this puzzle if you are to reach for your dreams. As I continue to search for a solution I will remember how through his determination Charlie found an answer that finally fulfilled his dream.

Some books are junk food. They are fine to guzzle down once in awhile, but too much is unhealthy. Some novels challenge readers’ thoughts and push them to ponder the secrets of life. Your book did this for me. Before reading Flowers for Algernon, the “meaning of life” was just a cliché. Thank you for showing me life is a chase. We chase our dreams. We chase our hopes, even if we lose. Life is the people we meet and the things we experience on the way. Thank you for showing me that everyone has dreams.

Sincerely,
Peter Jung

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Dear Mr. Westerfeld,

At first as I was reading your book, Uglies, I was reading it for the characters. They were so real to me that when Dr. Cable spoke, I heard her chilling voice. I think many readers of your book, Uglies, do not read the book for its message. They read it for its wonderful characters, plot, and humor. I enjoyed all of these aspects but was also able to see the deeper meaning.

Tally thought that her society was beyond all bias, and it was beyond bias based on race, gender, and sexual orientation. She thought of us as Rusties, because we were hurting the environment. And even though Tally’s people were perfect environmentally, they were still biased towards beauty. We too aren’t perfect. I feel that many people now think that they are beyond sexism, racism, or bias based on income, or sexual orientation, but are not. Contrary to my first impression, I now think that Tally’s world and our world are really not that different.

Their government controlled their minds using technology that actually changed their brain physically. It made them content to do nothing, happy, and obedient. I believe that humans have had a fear of the unknown since the dawn of humanity, and for good reason. If we did not have this fear, we would be so adventurous and daring, that people would be jumping off cliffs to see what it felt like. But of course, there is a downside. The Specials used an operation to control people, but it was not their only method. Even before uglies went through the operation, their minds were being controlled by fear, fear of being left ugly, miserable, and an outcast. I feel that our political leaders are using the same fear to control us. They are making us, the people, take away the rights of homosexuals and foreign people, particularly Arabs and Mexicans. All because we do not understand them.

Our government, like the Specials, is willing to resort to torture and manipulation. The Specials threatened Tally with her right to be pretty. I relate to Tally because when she threw the communicator into the fire she was fighting back for what she believed was right. She learned to think for herself and to no longer think of herself as ugly, but to think of herself as normal.

Tally felt as though her society was invincible. We have the same feeling. Tally looked down on our society, and thought her own was perfect. It wasn’t perfect, just as we are far from perfect. I believe that humans will never be perfect. But that doesn’t mean we shouldn’t try.

Sincerely,
Ben Kadie

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