seen from China

seen from United Kingdom
seen from Moldova
seen from Germany
seen from United States
seen from United Kingdom

seen from Iraq
seen from Syria
seen from China

seen from Indonesia
seen from Germany
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from Brazil
seen from Brazil
seen from United Kingdom
seen from China
seen from China
I woke up and soon got into one of those experimental trials that are famous in the Republic of Cancervania for Not Working. The drug was Phalanxifor, this molecule designed to attach itself to cancer cells and slow their growth. It didn’t work in about 70 per cent of people. But it worked in me.
Chapter 2, p.25 (TFiOS)
That’s still a 30% success rate! That is, more than 1 in 5 (don’t think I’ve forgotten about that ‘gotta outlast four of these bastards’ comment). In terms of experimental trials for cancer drugs, that’s still hugely, greatly, particularly good.
Yet more evidence that this book is visibly emotionally manipulative: I can actually see it’s trying to make me cry. Just thrown into this scene is the sobbing Papa Lancaster, whose only function, it seems, is to sob. While this could be an attempt to subvert the Stoic Father trope, it’s no better if he’s just as one dimensional and the only difference is that he cries on cue. Men, even fathers, aren’t expected to be nurturing or empathetic, and aren’t expected to do the emotional work that makes up a mother’s third shift. However, just being there to cry is a pretty worthless way to try and tell your audience that men are just as nurturing and emotional as women (which they are and should be).
--Chapter 2, p.25 (TFiOS)