Yes, I read all four of the Twilight books. And, no, I’m not sorry - I actually liked the series. Not to the point of being obsessed like the Twilight dad on the recent episode of Parks and Recreation who handcuffs himself in Leslie’s office to get the books placed in the Pawnee time capsule, but certainly to the point of being entertained.
There’s been a lot of flack about the Twilight books, not all of it undeserved. The main character, Bella, is total milquetoast. Have you ever met a teenager that never drinks, parties or does anything more interesting than (occasionally) go to a movie (all of which were completely age appropriate…no R ratings here!)? Even if you live in the most remote spot in America, no one is that boring – except maybe the Mormons who had a heavy hand in the morality behind the book.
True she’s got the inherent drama of dating a vampire and being best friends with a werewolf, but still. A teenage girl would have girl friends that help her smuggle makeup and tarty clothes into school so she can change into skankwear without her parents knowing. She would have a sleepover every now and again where the ladies sneak out at 10 pm to meet up with boys with cars, booze and cigarettes. Something! If you never push the limits of parental authority, how can you even really be a teenager?
And some of the books were better than others. Twilight, the original, really did get you hooked, and had a taut plot line. Boy meets girl, boy is strange and mysterious, girl is intrigued, boy turns out to be vampire. Cool! Plus, there was the thriller element, with a stray vampire coming to town, taking a shine to Bella as a meal and stalking her. Good stuff. And that vampire employed some pretty good tricks that were suspenseful and fun to read.
New Moon, however, blew taco chunks. The overwhelming majority of the book features Bella brooding and flirting with teen angst suicide because her vampire broke up with her. Bad message – you don’t flirt with death because your boyfriend is gone, and it’s not OK to romanticize depression, Stephanie Meyer. I don’t care if he is her “spirit husband,” or whatever the Mormons call it.
And the last book was just downright creepy. The werewolf “imprints,” aka finds his marriage partner and spiritual soul mate, on Bell’s baby. Yes, a baby. Stephanie Meyer wants us to believe it is true love. I’d call it a lengthy prison sentence. Eeew. And the overall series ending was incredibly weak. The Volturi are supposed to be hell bent on destroying the vampire clan, resorting to any cheap trick possible to justify murder. But in the end, we’re supposed to believe that vampire case before the Volturi was strong enough to convince the corrupt leaders that they were wrong? What?
But still, the books are worth reading. They only take a nanosecond to plow through, so it’s not a hefty time investment. Each book does have its moments, and it’s worth it to have a working Twilight knowledge, if for no other reason than to be in on the joke the next time there’s a reference on 30 Rock.
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