Stephenie Meyer

The Twilight Saga — (2005-2008) Young adult. Publisher: About three things I was absolutely positive. First, Edward was a vampire. Second, there was a part of him — and I didn't know how dominant that part might be — that thirsted for my blood. And third, I was unconditionally and irrevocably in love with him.

Twilight: A triumph of marketing (or: A beautiful swan for some, an ugly duckling for others)

It begins with the cover, the perfect red apple — forbidden fruit! — offered to the reader by perfect, pale hands. (Note the epigraph from Genesis: "But of the tree of knowledge of good and evil, thou shalt not eat of it... ") It continues, and continues, with the blossoming relationship between the narrator, Bella Swan, and the physically perfect and mysterious Edward Cullen — who, as the back cover states, is a vampire.

The popularity of this book, and the upcoming movie release, have probably broadcast the basic plot: Bella, about sixteen, decides to relocate from her mom's home in scorching Phoenix to her dad's home in overcast Forks, Washington, where the aforementioned Edward and his equally beautiful and mysterious "siblings" are (rather poorly) attempting to pass as high school students. (The author wisely or foolishly stays away from close scrutiny of the practicality of this. How do decades-old beings obtain or forge the necessary identifying documents? And does Washington have such draconian anti-truancy laws that said beings would rather endure the minimum security prison of high school than get ID's that make them old enough to do whatever they want?)

But perhaps I digress. The author sets up the tension between the almost-irresistibly tasty Bella and the irresistibly gorgeous Edward as the book's inviting heart. If you can tolerate the following passage, you may enjoy their wary courtship:

"I should have left long ago," [the vampire] sighed. "I should leave now. But I don't know if I can."
"I don't want you to leave," I mumbled pathetically, staring down again.
"Which is exactly why I should. But don't worry. I'm essentially a selfish creature. I crave your company too much to do what I should."
"I'm glad."
"Don't be!" He withdrew his hand, more gently this time; his voice was harsher than usual. Harsh for him, still more beautiful than any human voice. It was hard to keep up — his sudden mood changes left me always a step behind, dazed.
"It's not only your company I crave! Never forget that. Never forget I am more dangerous to you than I am to anyone else." He stopped, and I looked to see him gazing unseeingly into the forest.

The "it" begun by the cover is, accordingly, the promise of achingly slow and — ah! — forbidden seduction. In two words: dark romance. I'd personally love to see a complete psychosexual analysis of this book, but just a few observations. Edward is designed as the ultimate bad-boy: a gorgeous outsider and dangerous predator. His sexual and digestive lusts for Bella are enormous, checked only by his even more enormous love for her. (Why he loves her is only partially explained: she's lovely, fragrant, bright and spunky and is somehow immune to his ability to read minds; but she's also supernaturally clumsy and has ninety fewer years of life experience.) He must also protect her from being ravished by less noble humans or ravaged by less civilized vampires. In effect, their relationship is defined by constant yearning and vigilance, perpetuating a state of lustful chastity... and thus tension intended to keep the pages turning.

And of course, the author and publisher are careful not to remove any of that tension in this book, carrying it over into its sequel (New Moon). Other questions remain, too. Why can't Edward read Bella's mind? What's the origin of vampires? (A brief discussion of possible answers to this question touches on evolution and intelligent design and is part of the 2% of thought-worthy material in a book that's 98% brain-candy.) And why does so much of the climax occur off-stage, outside of Bella's perception? (That should change in the movie.) Overall, Twilight is a lightweight modern fantasy that will probably appeal strongly to readers, especially young readers, who enjoy romances and supernatural fiction. (They might especially find this a good airplane, beach or sick day book.) Recommended as a (used) paperback or library loan for those readers and not recommended for others. 2-1/2 stars, as warm and butterscotchy as Edward's piercing eyes (when he's not hungry).

One afterthought: it seemed that Ms. Meyer, in her first book, was actually writing below her talent level. (She does have an English degree.) Granted, she tells the tale in Bella's voice. But, it also seems that pains were taken to limit or exclude any references to religion, government, class, culture, etc. — things that could deepen the tale, but also make it less than 98% brain candy and (presumably) less appealing to its target audience. I don't know how much of this is Ms. Meyer and how much her editor/publisher, but the book's popularity makes me wonder about the state of teenage literary tastes. Just a thought.
—Rob R.   Comments

Twilight: “Would You Like to Rethink Your Last Request?”

I found Stephenie Meyer’s first novel Twilight in the bargain bin of my university bookstore, and the title rang a bell. Wasn’t this the book that everyone was talking about? It wasn’t badly priced, so I took it home with me, deciding that it was time to add my two cents to the discussion. When I finished a few days later, I knew I’d enjoyed reading it, though truthfully I also felt a little under-whelmed (no doubt due to all the hype).

Bella Swan is relocating from Phoenix to the perpetually overcast town of Forks to live with her father, and isn’t looking forward to it. However, her attitude changes once she sees, and then meets, Edward Cullen, a very handsome (and that’s putting it mildly) young classmate whose reaction to her is baffling. At first he seems to be struck with an instant dislike of her, but soon becomes friendly and attentive. Yet there’s something more to him than meets the eye, and soon Bella falls upon an extraordinary theory for his supernatural speed, strength and agility… 

The majority of the story is taken up with Bella’s growing realization and understanding of Edward’s ‘condition’ (it would be wrong to give too much of it away, even though every teenage girl — and probably most boys — know what it is by now), but there is also a villain introduced two-thirds of the way through the story. Perhaps he’s a little too late in coming to have the impact he could have had, (especially since he has an interesting connection with one of the Cullens) but he’s frightening enough in his demeanor and methods of hunting to send a chill down my spine.

The strongest aspect of Twilight is the narrative voice: told in first person by its protagonist, Meyer vividly evokes Bella’s voice, mood, personality, and attitudes. It helps that Bella has a complex and realistic relationship with both her parents; relationships that heavily influence how she lives her life — from her day-to-day existence, to how she makes life-altering decisions. Even though her mother and father do not get much ‘screen-time,’ their importance to Bella is clear (and in fact, toward the end of the story, the plot hinges on Bella’s concern for their safety). So many YA books in the ‘supernatural’ genre completely dismiss the subject of parents, and the main character always suffers as a result, but in this case, a parents’ importance to their child is not understated.

So when it comes to Bella, I have no complaints (though what with her astonishing clumsiness I do wonder if she had some sort of ear-infection that was disrupting her internal balance) and Meyer captures the mind-bending, heart-racing, palm-sweating pain and rapture of first love very well. Even though I couldn’t quite empathize with Bella’s feelings, I was convinced that she felt them. But the reason why I couldn’t fully empathize with Bella is because Edward didn’t impress me much. The problem was that he was so intolerably bossy! Here’s a sample of some of his dialogue, picked at random from the text:

• “I’d still rather you didn’t go to Seattle by yourself.”
• “I think you should eat something.”
• “You need a healthy dose of fear. Nothing could be more beneficial for you.”
• “Drink.”
• “Put your seatbelt on.”
• “You have fifteen minutes. Do you hear me? Fifteen minutes from the time you cross the doorstep.”
• “You need to rest. All this arguing isn’t good for you.”

Along with this consistent controlling aspect to his personality, Edward also stalks Bella on a shopping trip with her friends, eavesdrops on her conversations, breaks into her house to watch her when she’s asleep, cross-examines her with a barrage of questions, and insists that he drives her home to the point where he’s physically pulling her: “he was towing me toward his car now, pulling me by my jacket. It was all I could do to keep from falling backwards. He’d probably just drag me along anyway if I did.” At one point he even opens the car door for her…nothing wrong with that, but he’s sitting in the driver’s seat at the time. Sheesh! I found such behaviour more annoying than romantic or chivalrous, and often it felt that Edward acted more like Bella’s babysitter than her love interest.

If these aspects of his character were treated as faults and if Bella called him on his invasion of her privacy or pushy attitude, I wouldn’t mind so much, but it would seem that Meyer wants the reader to view Edward as ‘the perfect guy.’ Unfortunately, a guy like this would irritate the heck out of me…when he wasn’t creeping me out. More annoying is the fact that Bella seems quite happy to let herself be coddled like a child, and by the end of the book it’s apparent that she’s an astonishingly passive heroine, having been rescued by Edward no less than four times throughout the course of the story.

Furthermore, the romance itself is very sudden, as they seem to become a couple overnight, and I’m hard-pressed to recall exactly how and when they made this transition (though I suppose that this could be construed as a good thing if you look at it in a certain way) and I’m having trouble understanding the attraction. She thinks he’s very good looking (and her constant reveries on how “perfect” and “beautiful” he is get old very fast), and he is intrigued because he can’t read her thoughts, and both are intoxicated by the scent of the other. But beyond this, I’m not entirely sure what they’re basing their relationship on. What common interests do they share? What do they talk about beyond their infatuation with each other? Meyer gives us a few trifling details, like books and CDs that they both own, but such things are hardly what you’d build a relationship on.

So at the moment I’m sitting on the fence, poised between loving and loathing these books. Twilight was a strong opening in the series, and there are plenty of things I’m looking forward to in later books: I’m interested in the Cullen family, and their history with (what I’m guessing are) the werewolves from the Indian reservation, and why they decided to forsake the traditional bloodlust of their species. But Bella will have to gain more of a voice when it comes to dealing with Edward’s overbearing antics, and there’ll have to be an exploration of their love that goes beyond Bella’s rhapsodies on how “beautiful and glorious” Edward is, or Edward’s declarations of how great Bella smells. I’d like a more realistic look at how such a relationship might exist — the ups and the downs that the couple have not just with the world, but with each other. Right now they’re in the ‘infatuated’ part of the affair, but when that ends, there has to be a more stable base that a life together can be built on.

And for the life of me, I can’t figure out why 100+ year old vampires are enrolled in high school.
—Rebecca   Comments

Breaking Dawn

So far I've enjoyed this series, so posting such a negative review for Breaking Dawn, the final book in the Twilight series, doesn’t bring a smile to my face. Here are the major problems, as I see them:

There’s no plot. In fact, nothing happens that resembles a plot until page 544 (first edition hardback). That’s inexcusable.

The writing, until a bit past page 544 is not very good. After that, when the stakes have been raised (or, I should say, any kind of stakes are introduced), the writing improves significantly. It’s tight, and the descriptions are strong. It’s usually the other way around, with writers rushing to get the end, and getting sloppy. She still uses “growl,” “glower,” and “glare” far too often. I haven’t read The Host, so I don’t know if that annoying habit carries over, but when you’re dealing with vampires, werewolves, and humans, you can’t use “growl” as a dialogue tag for each species. Maybe if werewolves growled, vampires hissed, humans seethed, but everybody growls? No. Most annoying is that she uses “growl” as a dialogue tag when it’s already implied in the text that the character is speaking in a not-so-happy-voice.

The first 138 pages read like a Harlequin romance. Bella and Edward get married and go on a honeymoon. Whoopee. Bella has some strange dreams, and those dreams seem like portents, but they’re too similar to things we’ve already seen for them to cause the other thing a story needs, and something most of this story lacks: real, gritty tension. Granted, Edward impregnating Bella is a surprise, but that’s not enough to drive a story, even if a vampire-human bond has never resulted in offspring (usually because the vampire would have killed the human in the process due to uncontrollable passion). Bella’s handling of becoming pregnant seems odd. I’m not a woman, so I can’t speak with any kind of authority, but her reaction didn’t ring true, especially knowing the dangers, and especially when she realized that only Rosalie — crazy Rosalie — would understand and so reaches out to her for help.

Breaking Dawn is divided into three parts, and Stephenie Meyer really goes on a limb by having the middle part — or Book 2 — told entirely from Jacob’s perspective. There are Jacob fans, I know, but I don’t understand where they’re coming from. Jacob, with the exception of how his character was written in Twilight, is the most annoying character in the book, and Bella’s inexcusable actions toward him don’t help his cause. He’s in love with her. He can’t have her. Get the clue and move on. They’re supposed to be best friends, but I don’t see their friendship represented in the actual text to be anywhere near as strong as Meyer tells us it is. To be believed, it needs to be in the text.

There’s also the stylistic problem of changing the way the story is told mid-book. The whole series, with the exception of the epilogue at the end of the last book, has been told from Bella’s perspective (and I’m of the opinion that the Epilogue did not open the door for her to this here). If you’re a master stylist, then you might be able to pull something like this off, although it would be inadvisable. Meyer is not a master stylist, and she didn’t pull it off. Again — no plot. Jacob whines and moans like the most insufferable petulant teenager, and Bella gives birth to a baby. The birthing of the baby is certainly full of tension, but do we really think for one second that Bella will die, no matter what horrors Meyer throws at her? Of course not. So it’s really not very tense and, because it’s not tense, it’s gratuitous.

What happened to Edward after Renesmee was born? He was the father of the baby, so why was he constantly taking a back seat to Jacob? I didn’t buy what little evidence was provided in the text. As to the name Renesmee, that’s in my top 5 as one of the most ridiculous character names in fiction, and I’ve read some pretty bad fantasy with awful, horrid names.

That Jake imprinted on Renesmee is unbelievable. Seriously? He can’t have Bella so he’ll imprint on her daughter? Hello, Morality 101, please welcome Jake as a new student.

The message that Breaking Dawn sends to girls everywhere is deplorable. This book doesn’t seem to be about making difficult decisions and learning to dig deep inside yourself, find reservoirs of strength and lift yourself to great heights; rather, it seems to be about making inane, ridiculous decisions and never finding out what those decisions really cost. Case in point: Renesmee. If not for Edward’s heroism and astonishing cleverness, she would have died giving birth to Renesmee. Stupid, stupid Bella.

Some might argue that Bella saved the day at the end, so doesn’t that say something for her? Not really, though I’ll give her due credit for bravery. The problem is that Meyer has made a habit of gifting the Cullen family beyond believability, so it’s no surprise that Bella develops a supernatural talent so great that it frightens Aro, the leader of the Volturi. Bella didn’t save the day, Meyer did.

This Bella is a lucky girl. There’s always someone around to catch her when she falls (a guy), she gets to have her cake and eat it too (keeps Jake as a friend, Edward as her husband, and Hey! Edward and Jake get along now, too), when turned into a vampire she finds the normal period of longing for human blood and other indecencies don’t apply to her, so she gets to see her father and anyone else she wants, for that matter. Is that two supernatural talents? Or are we really to believe that because Bella has thought about it for so long, she was prepared? I don’t think life works that way, or, at least, that it should work that way.

There’s the saying that everybody loves a happy ending. That’s true, but this went beyond a happy ending. It’s perfect, as the very last sentence of the book specifically states.

What a disappointing end to what had been a riveting series. —Todd   Comments