Hollywood, Ending
Cut along the dashed lines and pass the cards around the table.
Before we get into it: where did you do most of your reading, and did you find yourself reading it in big gulps or small quiet sips?
Who is the first famous person you remember feeling like you knew personally, and how does it feel to admit that out loud now?
Green writes about being looked at constantly. Was there a moment in the book where you felt genuinely protective of one of these two, like you wanted to hand them a blanket and turn off the cameras?
Warhol made ordinary things glow just by paying attention to them. What ordinary thing in your own life would you want somebody to look at that lovingly?
The book sits with the gap between a public self and a private one. Did reading it make you feel tender toward your own performing self, or a little tired of it?
Which small quiet scene stayed with you more than any of the glamorous ones, and what about it comforted you?
Green has a gift for making you feel less alone in the middle of a crowd. Where in this book did you feel most seen, and did that land as a relief or as an ache?
Without giving anything away about where the story leaves off: what feeling did you carry around for a day or two afterward, and did you want to sit in it or shake it off?