The Game

"The inning continued before my incredulous eyes. It was impossible to keep up woth the speed at which the ball flew, the rate at which their bodies raced around the field....Carlisle ran into the ball, and then raced Jasper to first base. When they collided, the sound was like the crash of two massive falling boulders."

Maybe it's because I'm in a good mood today. Maybe it's because tomorrow's Friday. Maybe I'm just happy Slayer's finally put out a good album after years of mediocrity. Whatever it is, I actually didn't think Chapter 17 was all that bad.

Relax. I said "all that bad." It's still not good, but it's not the steaming pile the 16 chapters before it are. It's definitely a semi-buffed copper penny buried in a huge mound of shit.

What makes the chapter tolerable (barely) is the idea that when vampires play baseball it's a dramatic, rousing, thunderous (literally) event. These fallen angels smacking the ball thousands of feet and crashing into each other in spectacular fashion is a vision that a much better writer could have made into a subtlety riveting, maybe even classic scene. As Meyer writes it it's perfectly workmanlike. Something an eighth grader (maybe these chicks, who don't know what the word "parody" means?) in advanced English may have come up with. Kudos to Meyer, though, for imagining such a scene. 'Twas the only chapter I read with even a hint of a smile.

I imagined the scene in wide-screen, showing the game being played from afar against the oncoming storm. The bodies tiny specks moving gracefully yet tearing the sound barrier open when they strike. I set the scene up a certain way in my head so thoroughly that I decided to check out Catherine Hardwicke's version (yay Youtube!). While I'm saving the whole movie for after I finish the book, I was actually kind of curious to see it.

Bad move, Pezz.

Set to a so-bad-it's-just-bad Muse song, Hardwicke hyper-edits the shit out of the scene, speed-ramps footage, throws in some unnecessary (and really shitty - seriously, was this a TV movie?) CG, and inserts shots of some Kevin Federline looking douchebag (who I assume is Emmett?) dancing around like an asshole. It's all flash, all spectacle, zero excitement. I have no doubt Hardwicke was told what she could and could not do on this film by people that have absolutely no filmmaking talent and perhaps she bucked them on other parts of the film, but as it stands the game scene is horrendously executed.

I can only hope that this is a turning point in my Everest climb. Maybe the rest of the journey won't be as difficult as I thought.

Maybe. But I doubt it.

Carlisle

"'What will we be playing?' I demanded. 'You will be watching,' Edward clarified. 'We will be playing baseball.' I rolled my eyes. 'Vampires like baseball?' 'I's the American pastime,' he said with mock solemnity."

In Chapter 16, Edward vomits page after page of exposition. Something to do with Carlisle swimming to France in the 1600's and finding out he could survive on animal juice and blah blah blah. Of course vampires can survive on the blood of lesser creatures, Carly. Haven't you ever watched Interview With the Vampire? Don't you remember this?



Anyway, while Edward droned on and on about shit I didn't care about but will probably come back into the story in some not-so-subtle way later in the book or series, my mind began to wander. Finally, after hovering somewhere between thinking about cutting my toenails and whether or not I should open my window to let some cool air in, my mind suddenly remembered that when I'm done with this book I'll be watching the movie. It quickly my mind grasped for something to soothe itself - anything. It's not used to being shocked like that. It finally settled on thinking about other movies featuring vampires, ones that are most likely more fun to watch than the one I'll be watching in about two weeks time. Then it just starting going over watching things that are more fun than Twilight in general. So now I present them to you.

The first one just happens to be a scene from a movie involving vampires. Ladies and gentlemen, I give you: Corey Haim in a bathtub.



I know. You're thinking "nothing is more fun than watching Corey Haim in a bathtub." Oh contrair.

Next, we have some kid with way to much time on his hands playing Mastodon's "Colony of Birchmen" on Expert in Rock Band 2 - and getting a perfect score.



I gotta admit, that one makes me a little tit jealous.

Finally in our little list of things that are more fun to watch than Twilight, we have a little clip from a movie I adore. The plot of Session 9 is not important. What is important is that it stars fire-crotched David Caruso. In this particular scene he's doing what David Caruso does best. No, not putting on his sunglasses at a crime scene then trying to top whatever awesome one liner he came up with last episode (the's the second best thing he does), but standing on top of an abandoned mental institution smoking what Cypress Hill used to call the "Mary/Juana." The dope is so good it makes him predict what will happen to my life if I keep reading Twilight.



Indeed, DC. Indeed.

The Cullens

"'Will you be?' I asked, suddenly anxious. 'Will you really be here?' 'As long as you want me,' he assured me. 'I'll always want you,' I warned him. 'Forever.'"

The more I read this book, the more depressed I get that people actually enjoy it. Here's something to lighten at least my mood, if not yours.






that's how you handle a stalker, ladies.

Mind Over Matter

"I stepped inside, flicked on the porch light, and turned to look at him with my eyebrows raised. I was sure I'd never used that key in front of him. 'I was curious about you.' 'You spied on me?' But somehow I couldn't infuse my voice with the proper outrage. He was unrepentant. 'What else is there to do at night?'"

Ew, Edward, you stalky douche!

Nah, just kiddin'. I know how it is. You get bored Facebooking and trying to friend hot chicks on Myspace all night, so you look for something fun to do. Only then you realize none of your friends are around to play Call of Duty, and free-roaming the sandbox play of Grand Theft Auto IV gets boring after the fifth hour. "Might as well just go to bed," you think to yourself. And just as you're about to slide under the covers and dream about how many chicks out of 30 will respond to your friend requests, a light bulb goes off. "Instead of sleeping, why don't I go watch that chick I like sleep instead?" Bingo, bango, bongo, your night just got a lot more interesting.

Well, Eddie ol' buddy ol' pal, instead of ratcheting your creep factor up to just under those dudes Chris Hanson likes to chat with on To Catch a Predator, why don't you induldge in some good old fashioned before bed-time reading? I know I know, reading ain't cool for a human dude, let alone a vampire that shimmers like a Gay Pride Day float in the sun, but hear me out. What if you perused some books about your kind? In fact, why don't I recommend some to you? Oh now c'mon, don't pout. None of the vampires in these books have hair as fashionably shaggy as you. Okay. You're in? Great. Here are three books about vampires that are better than the one you're currently starring in.

3. Let the Right One In - John Ajvide Lindqvist

Little Oskar just wants a friend. Growing up a 12 year old boy in 1980's Stockholm ain't no easy feat. Bella thinks Forks is tough, Eddie? There's snow on the ground allllll year 'round where Oskar lives. Next time she starts bitching about the rain, just throw her that little nug. Shut 'er right up. Anyway, Oskar is lonely, so when a new girl his age moves into the apartment next door, he's intrigued. They form a friendship, then Oskar learns the cold, hard truth: Eli likes to feed on the living. What's the frail little Oskar to do? Nu-uh, I ain't spoilin' that for you Eddie! Just know Let the Right One In has a pedophile vampire in it. Yep, that's right. A pedovamp. Take that, Breaking Dawn.

2. The Strain - Guillermo Del Toro and Chuck Hogan

Even if you get done with this in a night, Ed, there are still two parts waiting to be devoured. No not literally, silly! Why is it you'd consider eating paper but not Bella? Gayyyyyy!!! Ahem - ANYWAY! The Strain is the first part of a planned trilogy. Like the next book I recommend, the vampire in The Strain arrives to shore via a large traveling vessel. In Dracula it's a ship. In The Strain it's an airplane. Hello homage! After the plane lands a strange virus overtakes much of New York City (kinda hard to hunt bears there, eh Eddie, amIright?). The virus brings together Dr. Goodweather of the CDC and pawnshop owner Abraham (helloooooo homage number 2!) Setakrian, an old man who knows that this is no ordinary virus: it's a plague slowly turning humanity into a legion of undead. Violent, bloody, and filled with lots of medical terminology. Like Michael Crichton meets Jane Austin!

1. Dracula - Bram Stoker

Gotta be honest, Eddie, this is my favorite book. It's far from perfect, but the atmosphere just drips off each page, and it sure is funny when Bram tries to write as a female! This is it, killer (see what I did there?), the grandaddy of all modern vampire tales. And apparently a book the author of your adventures has never read. Read it and respect it. Might teach you some things about yourself.

Okay, now that that's done you don't have to go-wait...Eddie, where you going? I thought you were going to read these books I just recomme- what do you mean you just did? Right now? While I was telling you about them? Well, alright. I guess. Have fun watching Bella sleep.

Fuckin' vampires.

Confessions

"Edward in the sunlight was shocking. I couldn't get used to it, though I'd been staring at him all afternoon. His skin, white despite the faint flush from yesterday's hunting trip, literally sparkled, like thousands of tiny diamonds embedded in the surface."

Well, there's still nothing happening in Bedward land (unless you count two characters spitting platitudes back and forth to each other for chapter after chapter), so I thought I would list 30 ways to use your time rather than waste it reading Twilight.

30. Comb your hair.

29. Floss your teeth.

28. Treat a random stranger to dinner.

27. Listen to Strawberry Fields Forever backwards.

26. Listen to Strawberry Fields Forever forwards.

25. Make a sock puppet.

24. Look up the video to Deadsy's "Key to Gramercy Park" on youtube.*

23. Try on old clothes to see if they still fit.

22. Light a book of matches. One match at a time.

21. Figure out a cure for AIDS.

20. Sniff a magic marker.

19. Volunteer at a homeless shelter.

18. Go grocery shopping. For shit you already have.

17. Drink a bottle of Wild Turkey.

16. Pump your stomach.

15. Watch The King of Queens.

14. Leave Kevin James hateful voicemail messages.

13. Slide down the stairs on your stomach.

12. Call your parents.

11. Steal a baby.

10. High-five yourself.

9. If the homeless shelter already has enough volunteers, volunteer your services to someone who already has a home.

8. Comb someone else's hair.

7. Follow someone walking their dog and clean up the crap left behind.

6. Walk.

5. Go to the Saving Abel/Popevil show.*

4. See how many times you can somersault before you vomit.

3. Floss someone else's teeth.

2. Watch a Wayans brothers movie.*

1. Recite Nickleback lyrics to yourself.




*Try at your own risk.

Balancing

"I looked down, afraid of the persuasive power of his eyes. I refused to be convinced to fear him, no matter how real the danger might be. It doesn't matter, I repeated in my head."

I have a feeling this blog is getting as tedious for you to read as it is for me to write. A blog a chapter was a stupid, vapid idea, but an idea I promised I would see through until the end nonetheless.

In order to keep my sanity, I decided I'm going to take this particular post as far away from this piece of garbage book whose popularity mystifies me and write about something else. I'm going to write about Where the Wild Things Are, a movie I saw yesterday and one that you should see immediately - especially if your idea of deep, great, or even just well-done art is Stephanie Meyer's vampire tale.

In Where the Wild Things Are (helmed by director-of-all-trades Spike Jonze), Max Records plays Max, an intelligent, creative, yet overly-emotional 10 year old. Max's parents are divorced, he's drifting away from his sister, and he's unsure of how to handle mom's new boyfriend. After a morning of fun turns into a day and evening of frustration, Max runs away from home and, naturally, crosses a dangerous and stormy sea only to stumble upon a family of Wild Things. Each "thing" represents a part of Max's psyche, with Max becoming best friends with the sensitive and emotional Carol (voiced by James Gandolfini), whose only want in life is for all of the Wild Things to stay together. With Max as their king, the Things throw a Wild Rumpus, build a fortress, play war games, and attempt to find understanding in each other. Max, meanwhile, is forced to play the "adult"; all of the Wild Things are emotional and have different wants and needs - Max must play the peace-keeper. In the process, he begins to acquire the tools necessary to deal with his own wild emotions.

Where the Wild Things Are is being marketed as a kids movie, but it's much more than that. The narrative is free-form and is more art-film than anything else. Chances are if you've raised your child on Dreamworks cartoons and movies with talking chiuauas then they will turn on this flick. There are moments of whimsy and joy, however each scene of fun is punctuated with stretches of meloncholy. This is a movie that deals with the real emotions of a child on the cusp of puberty. The adult world is on the otherside of a door that Max is clost to opening, and he's scared shitless about what he might find when he does.

A subtle acheivement of this film is the world building, compliments of Jonze and co-screenwriter David Eggers. Max doesn't question the Wild Things (what they are, where they come from, what they do, etc) and neither do we. A gigantic walking dog that gets nary an explanation, and a Wild Thing that doesn't say a word until the last five minutes help add texture and history to the space the Wild Things inhabit. The film is only an hour and a half in length, but I found myself wishing Max would stay in this world all day.

There is a lot more I could say about the film, but I'd be writing all night. Where the Wild Things Are is without a doubt worth your time and money. People are fond of saying "I wish I was a kid again." This film reminds us that being a kid can be just as scary as being an adult. Just in ways we've forgotten about.

Complications

"...I was suddenly hyperaware that Edward was sitting less than an inch from me. I was stunned by the unexpected electricity that flowed through me, amazed that it was possible to be more aware of him than I already was. A crazy impulse to reach over and touch him, to stroke his perfect face just once in the darkness, nearly overwhelmed me. I crossed my arms tightly across my chest, my hands balling into fists. I was losing my mind."

"You're not in the target demographic." "It's not your cup of tea." "You've never been in love/don't have a shitty love life/don't know what love is."

These are three of the main criticisms I've received since starting this blog, all in response to my (so far) genuine dislike of Twilight. I think, since again nothing happens in this chapter (seriously, Bedward converse, then Eddie gets mad at Jacob for parking in Bella's driveway, then the chapter ends), I should address these criticisms and why, well, none of them matter.

1) I'm not in the target demographic.

You know what, Twilight lover, you're right. I'm not. Guilty as charged. "A" for knowing your facts. Too bad your criticism is flimsier than the cardboard cut-out of Peter Facinelli you have in your room. J.K. Rowling doesn't write books for 29 year old straight males either, but I somehow blew through the first four Harry Potter novels in 4 weeks and then picked up each successive one on their respective release dates afterwards. Pixar didn't really market Up* to anyone over the age of 16, yet I found it to be one of the most moving films of the year. With just those two examples I've destroyed your argument. Good literature (and all art, by extension), transcends sex, age, class, race, background, etc. It does not matter that Twilight's main audience is made up of 13-20 year old females who dig dudes that wear mascera, I should be able to appreciate it and enjoy it on some level, whether it be sharp writing, deep characterization, vivid description, or something else.

Here's a third example to stomp your "not the target demographic" criticism into the ground: I saw Quentin Tarantino's Inglourious Basterds, a film tailor made for testosterone pumping males 18-35, more than once in a theater full of people made up of all ages and sexes. Each time I saw it the movie killed. The audience laughed, gasped, cheered, and left the theater buzzing with every showing. Although he had crafted a movie geared towards a specific type of audience, Tarantino was able to reach and entertain a broader group.


2) It's not my cup of tea.

Folks, I know most of you don't work with me, but those of you that do, you know I drink tea. A lot of tea. A lot of many different kinds of tea. Put a teabag in front of me (I should not have said that) and I'll put it in my cup, pour some hot water on it, and try it. I also like a lot of these different kinds of tea. Not all, but most. My point is that I'm not a person that subscribes or only likes one kind of tea or even two kinds. My tastes span a variety of tea leaves, tea companies, tea times, tea colors, tea smells, tea flavors. If I like a tea, I'll say so. Even if it's a kind I normally wouldn't try.

3) I've never been in love/have a shitty love life/don't know what love is.

I've heard various forms of the above argument recently both directed at myself and, whilst perusing Twilight message-boards, other persons critical of the series. Personally, I find it flagrantly offensive and ignorant.

It shouldn't have to be said, but apparently needs to be: one shouldn't even have to believe or even understand what the word love is to like or even appreciate Edward and Bella's story. I don't believe that a creature from outerspace can impregnate a crewmember of a commercial mining space vessel, yet Alien is my favorite film. I've never experienced toys coming to life and fighting over who their owner's favorite is, yet I'm totally down with Toy Story. I don't have a past I'm trying to leave behind in order to start a fresh one in another part of the country, but I empathize with Viggo Mortensen's Tom Stall in A History of Violence. Belief or experience of the subject involved should not be a prerequisite for enjoying, undestanding, comprehending, and respecting a story.

And lastly, to suggest that because I (or anyone else) find little to like about this one book then I have never experienced love or have had a "shitty" love life is about as insulting a statement as I can think of. I know you'll find this hard to believe, Twilight lover, but I know what great love feels like and have experienced all of it's ups and downs: been awed by it, disappointed by it, shamed by it, humbled by it, uplifted by it, grounded by it, left lonely by it, felt surrounded by it, laughed because of it, cried because I lost it, hated it, loved it, wished I never had it, thanked God I found it, was scared of it, became brave when around it, and grew to be a better person because of it.

So I have felt true love, folks, and whatever it is Edward and Bella have? That ain't true love. And the fact that I just had to explain that all to you, Twilight lover, means that perhaps you have never been in love, or experienced love, or even know what love is.



*Up (a kids movie) has more to say about finding true love that lasts a lifetime in its first (silent) 10 minutes than anything found in the first 230 pages of Twilight.

Interrogations

"When I got downstairs, Charlie was gone again - I was running later than I'd realized. I swallowed a granola bar in three bites, chased it down with milk straight from the carton, and then hurried out the door."

Okay Bella. I can abide you being more depressed and paranoid than Hemingway. I can abide your blind obsession with a dude you hardly know who tells you to stay away from him because he's so dangerous. I can even abide your snide comments about your friends. But I cannot abide you drinking your dad's milk straight from the carton!

I mean really, that's disgusting kid. What if your dad had a cold sore you never noticed? Edward might be able to withstand a van to the fist, but are vampires any match for the HSV1 virus? Those sexy eyes, silky voice, and rock hard chest will be all for not if his lips are covered with crusty sores once every couple of months.

And c'mon, what has Charlie ever done to you to make you think you can just bogart his beverage like that? The dude bought you a truck for cryin' out loud! The least you could do is pour it into a glass like a normal human being - oh, what, you think dating the sexiest vampire in school gives you some sort of right to act all diva-ish? Even J-Lo and Whitney would scold you.

Besides, would you want him using your stuff without your permission? What if he decided to use your Yellow Ducky Mesh Bath Sponge Loofah in the shower one day? Or spritz himself with some Charlie the Unicorn Candy Mountain Perfume Spray afterwards? You know you'd pitch a fit, then go wandering into the woods to sulk a little more about how bad your life sucks even though your the envy of everyone in the school.

So think about it next time, killer. Don't just use something because it's there. Think about the consequences. Think to yourself "what if this was my milk. Would I want my dad's lips on it?" Because Bella, if your dad is drinking from that carton too, and chances are he is, you just made out with your own father. Sorry.



Oh yeah, in Chapter 10 Bella and Edward have a 20 page conversation. Again.

Theory

"About three things I was absolutely positive. First, Edward was a vampire. Second, there was apart of him - and I didn't know how potent that part might be - that thirsted for my blood. And third, I was unconditionally and irrevocable in love with him."

If Chapter 8 was a good example of what Twilight as a whole has been about, then Chapter 9 is a good example of why Stephanie Meyer is a mid to below-average writer.

I mentioned before that one of the cardinal rules of writing is "show, don't tell." It's actually a difficult concept, and one that I think even the greatest authors have trouble following. It's easy to advance the plot, convey emotions, and set scenes through dialogue and straight description. It's also boring and simple It doesn't matter what age group you're writing for, no one wants boring and simple.

While much of Twilight so far has broken the show don't tell rule, Chapter 9 is the most egregious offender. It takes place entirely in a car ride and whatever plot advancements/revelations are made comes in the guise of dialogue. Bedward dialogue.

Bella finally calls Edward out on being a vampire - fair enough, but also very benign. The chapter, and story, is harmed by confirming Bella's suspicions through a conversation that amounts to "yeah, I'm a vampire, and you should stay away from me. 'Cause I can smell you and stuff." While I almost appreciate that the conversation is so matter-of-fact, Meyer just isn't a capable enough writer to make it work. I was bored to tears by her previous action pieces, but having Bella discover Edward's true-self during a feeding frenzy or another sort of Grand Guignol scene would not have only made the chapter a bit more colorful and added a sense of danger, but also would have satisfied the "show don't tell" rule.

Or maybe it would have sucked and pissed me off so bad I'd be writing about how much more I would have enjoyed Edward telling Bella in a conversation how much he sucks a mean neck.

Port Angeles

"'I'm taking you to dinner.' He smiled slightly, but his eyes were hard. He stepped out of the car and slammed the door. I fumbled with my seat belt, and then hurried to get out of the car as well. He was waiting for me on the sidewalk."

If I had to choose one chapter that pretty much summarizes what Twilight is all about so far, it would be Chapter 8. It's got it all: Bella's good mood decimated by the most ludicrous rumor, Bella complaining about her friends jibber-jabber, a poorly written chase set-piece, Edward's continued mental abuse of Bella, and another soul-tranquilizing Bedward conversation.

But at least we're getting somewhere now. Twilight's famous (or infamous, depending on your sex) for it's star-crossed romance, and it's nice to see these two finally start truly obsessing over each other. I guess.

I say that because, well, the whole thing is actually just kind of creepy. When Bella goes on a day trip with her "friends" and gets into a bit of trouble, Eddie's there to save her. Again. Which would be fine and dandy if it weren't for the fact that HE FUCKING FOLLOWED HER THERE WITHOUT HER KNOWING. You know what that's called in the real world? Stalking.

Not only does he stalk her, but he rescues her from a dangerous situation and then puts her in an even more dangerous situation. She's being followed by four dudes through back alleys in the town of Port Angeles, and Bella's sixth sense tells her they want to do more than ask her to the next Sun O))) show. Then, just as the guys are about to audition her for their stage tour of The Accused, Ed comes by in his shiny silver Volvo, tells her to get in, then speeds down the street "blowing through stop signs without a pause." Nice, Ed's. You might be able to survive a 60 mile an hour crash, but B-Swan certainly wouldn't, and neither would a family of 5 in a minivan crossing one of those intersections you just blindly blow-through. I know you're pissed off because someone almost tapped that before you got your cold, creepy hands on it, but unless those dudes are the spawn of Usain Bolt, I'm pretty sure you have the advantage, seeing as you're in a car and all.

After impersonating Cole Trickle (and admitting to an anger management issues; "Sometimes I have a problem with my temper, Bella), Edward decides that he's going to force Bella to eat dinner. (Nothing makes a girl hungrier than near-rape, Eddie, good job!). And I mean force. It's clear that Edward will not let Bella make decisions for herself, he will tell her what to do. But Swanson's too distracted by her saviour's smoldering good looks and silky DJ voice to realize she's being manipulated by a guy who almost showed her what it felt like to be Princess Diana.

I think I see where this is going, kiddies. And I don't quite know if I like it.

Nightmare

"As was my routine, I glanced first towards the Cullens' table. A shiver of panic trembled in my stomach as I realized it was empty."

It's been a few days since I've posted. Had to take a break from the book. This shit can wear on a man. Plus, Netflix just sent me another Battlestar Galactica disc, so I had to get that on. Top-shelf Sci-Fi takes precedence over shoddy tween horror any day.

Anyway, my eyes glazed over as I read chapter seven, and when I was done I realized something about it: nothing happens. I thought maybe my mind had wandered to more pleasing topics - beautiful women, a nice fall day in the park, castration - while I read, so I went over the chapter again. And you know something? I couldn't find a damn reason for it to be there.

Here's what happens in chapter seven of Twilight: Bella listens to music. Bella has a nightmare. Bella uses the internet to look up "vampire." Bella goes for a walk in the woods. Bella sits on a fallen tree. Bella thinks about Edward. Bella goes to school. Bella gets hit on by Mike. Bella gets upset because Edward isn't in school. Bella writes an email to her mom. Bella watches TV with her dad. Bella asks her dad if she can go dress shopping with her friends.

The end.

If you ever read the book (and, like Indy telling Elsa not to cross the seal, I'm specifically going to advise you not to - lest you want to be swallowed into Earth's black ass-crack) you can just brush right past the seventh chapter. I just told you all you need to know. (Read the above paragraph again. If it doesn't make you want to take an orangutan fist to the throat then you're infinitely more patient than I).

I've seen better authors fall into the trap of filling pages for the shit of it (there's a huge chunk of paper in The Deathly Hallows where a few characters bounce around from place to place doing stuff that seems important but isn't), but it seems particularly insulting in this instance because Bella does the same thing she's been doing for the past six chapters (out Debbie-downing Debbie Downer) except there's nothing happening around her to advance the plot. I actually found myself longing for a Bella/Edward (Bedward?) conversation in all its retarded glory. At least that would have fired me up - energized me to spit some more Twilight hate from my fingertips. Instead it just left me wondering who the fuck Stephanie Meyer's editor is and if I could ever find a way to have them punched by an orangutan. In the throat.

Scary Stories

"I wasn’t looking forward to Friday, and it more than lived up to my non-expectations."

Yeah yeah yeah Bella, we get it. You hate life. You know what? Life hates you back.

This post is going to be particularly short, mainly because this chapter sucked just as much as the last one and I need to take a breather from this thing.

So, Bella goes on a trip with her "friends" to La Push (I KNEW it was part of the story, Meyer. You can't fool me, you're writing sucks too much) and meets Jacob who, from what I know about the story, is the hunk of meat that takes his shirt off and makes the ladies cream in the New Moon trailer. Ladies young and old. Which is kind of creepy, seeing as in this book he's only 15. Nice double standard there, ladies.

You know what else sucks about Bella? She only describes the good-looking dudes in her life, as if those are the only guys worth her attention. Edward, Jacob, all of the Cullens' plus the father. Her other male "friends" get nary a mention of description, on top of being annoying as shit to her. Thanks for not only being an annoying morose bitch but a shallow one as well, Dinner Bells.

And that's it for tonight. Too annoyed with Twilight to go on right now.

Blood Type

"He was towing me toward his car now, pulling me by my jacket. It was all I could do to keep from falling backward. He'd probably just drag me along anyway if I did."

I think I've done a fairly good job of being as objective as possible when it comes to reading this book so far. Alright, so maybe I never planned on being that objective in the first place, but so far I've resisted the temptation to trash this thing completely; after all, I'm not in the target demographic for it, and who knows, maybe it'll get better as the pages go on. Although it hasn't been an enjoyable experience thus far, I've never had the urge to toss the novel across the room. Until chapter 5.

Bella, you're a fucking asshole. Not only are you annoyingly morose, but you suck when it comes to friendship. Just look at the way she describes her friend: "Jessica babbled on and on about her dance plans - Lauren and Angela had asked the other boys and they were all going together - completely unaware of my inattention." Then later, when she finds that Edward isn't sitting at his normal cafeteria spot: "I followed the still babbling Jessica through the line, crushed...I just wanted to sit down and sulk."

First of all, Bellsnick, you weren't inattentive, because if you were you'd have no idea what the fuck Lauren and Angela were talking about. Maybe they were discussing how to masturbate with a Playstation dual-shock controller (FYI - I've found getting shot to shit in Metalgear Solid 4 to be the best way to get that thing to shake for hours; might want to get in on some Solid Snake action). So they weren't unaware of your inattention. You were a victim of Stephanie Meyer's crappy way to get information across to the audience. Second of all: fuck you for being a shitty person to people that care about you.

So not only does she complain about her friends "babbling" (I seriously don't even know why she has friends, she seems to hate them all, the men especially), she leaves them to go have another boring, pages long back and forth conversation with Ed Grimley. The exchange is filled with Meyer's jaw-droppingly banal writing; check out this exchange: "'Aren't you hungry?' he asked, distracted. 'No.' I didn't feel like mentioning that my stomach was already full - of butterflies." I don't usually say "ugh", but "ugh."

Another annoyance is the constant need for Bella (and, obviously by extension, Meyer) to describe how drop-dead gorgeous Mr. Culligan man is. It was fine once. Maybe twice. Now it's completely obvious that the author has no other tools in her writing aresenal other than to keep repeating the same things over and over again. There are a lot of things I think about this book right now, but I know it doesn't need to be over 500 pages long. The first 100 have taught me that.

Finally, we get to the first worrisome event in the book. While this should throw up red flags for any rational thinking individual, for some reason it makes Edward even more intriguing to our retarded protagonist. After Bella practically passes out in Biology class - seems she has an aversion to blood, um Bells, dear, what do you do for 5 days out of every month, bleed bubble-tea? - Eddie Munster rescues her from the clutches of the school nurse and offers to bring her home safely. Instead of walking her gently to his car, he proceeds to do exactly what the passage that opens this post says he does. He demands that she come with him. "Oh that's so sweet, he cares about her so much!" I can see readers swoon. No. That's abusive. Ladies, if you saw one of your friends being dragged against her will to some guy's car I would hope you'd go right up and pull his hair (no matter how beautifully messy it is) and scratch the shit out of his eyes (no matter how soul-meltingly scorching they are).

The next time I offer to nut up, someone tell me to shut up.

Invitations

"Of course he wasn't interested in me, I thought angrily...I wasn't interesting. And he was. Interesting...and brilliant...and mysterious...and perfect...and beautiful...and possibly able to life full-sized vans with one hand."

Wow, Bella-Biv-Devoe, if you weren't talking about me you'd be pretty creepy right now. Oh wait, what's that, you're not talking about me? Nevermind.

Creep.

It should be noted that this chapter ends with Eddy telling Bells specifically to stay away from him. She even describes it as a warning. Ladies, no matter how perfect looking a dude is, not matter how good he makes your legs quiver, no matter how much he makes you want to throw yourself in front of an oncoming ostrich when he's not around, if he says to you "you really should stay away from me", run away to the nearest Dairy Queen and satiate yourself with an Orio Blizzard.* It means either he will supply you with a life-time's worth of physical and/or mental abuse, or he wants to stab a hole in your neck and suck the heart-juice out of you.

This may have been the most drama and danger filled chapter for our heroin yet, as For Whom the Bella Tolls gets asked to the spring dance by just about every guy in the school, every guy not in the school, and Tony Curtis. But she turns them all down, of course, because none of them sparkle. Instead she tells them she's taking a trip to Seattle. Bella, dear, the grunge scene has been dead for over a decade and a half. And besides, that music is way too upbeat for a girl of your...moroseness. Might I suggest a trip to Gothenburg or Finland?

But fear not for our pretty, loved, privileged Bells! This is also the chapter in which Edward finally decides he's tired of doing the right thing by not dragging this innocent girl into his life full of pain, suffering, and misery, and so he asks her if she wants some company on her trip. And - since she's totally into a guy that gives her mixed signals, frustrates her, makes her scared to go to school, depresses her, makes her uncomfortable, and has the strength of an angry midget - she says yes.

Bella, I'm starting to feel about you like you feel about Edward - you make me want to hit something.



*Whilst looking up what DQ's signature dessert is, I stumbled across the Fan Club's blog. The irony of saying this is not lost on me, but is there anything more inane than a blog run by fans of Dairy Queen?

Phenomenon

"That was the first night I dreamed of Edward Cullen."

Well if that doesn't make me want to read on, Stephanie, I don't know what will.

By the way, have I mentioned the cover art to the copy of the book I'm reading is from the movie poster? I was wary about taking this thing out in public as it is; now it's a guarantee that I'll be reading it nowhere but the comfort of my own bedroom. Visitors will be told that I don't know how it got here. Must have dropped magically out of the ceiling. If they continue to press, I'll pretend I just heard "go get your fuckin' shinebox" and then, well, Billy Batts knows the rest.

So fifty some-odd pages in Meyer finally crafts her first set-piece. And it's about as thrilling as watching my 10 year old self play Ikari Warriors. Look, I'm not expecting Patriot Games levels of action here, but if or main character's life is in danger I want my brain to go "oh shit!" while my fingers turn the page. Instead I get a rigid, clinical description of an accident that has the danger factor of a fender bender.

And that's my biggest problem with the book so far. You don't have to be an English major (I was one, but you probably can't tell from these posts - I wasn't exactly a studious individual) to see that Stephanie Meyer is a slightly below-average writer. Technically, at least. One of the first rules of writing taught is "show, don't tell." There's too much telling here. I certainly hope Meyer doesn't ever take a crack at writing a screenplay - I envision her characters describing every single plot detail, just to make sure the audience gets it.

When I first borrowed the book and saw it was over 500 pages long I really didn't think anything of it. I had already decided to take on the whole series; I would've committed had it been 10,000. Slogging through these chapters, though, I find myself counting page after page of...pages that could easily be ripped out and have no effect on the story. In chapter 3, Bella and Edward argue for over two whole pages about what happened during the accident. The conversation boils down to about this "tell me what happened, you weren't close to me" "no, I can't" "yes, do it" "no, I can't, you don't understand" "yes, do it" "no, I can't, trust me" and so on and so forth. While she's not the first writer to engage in redundancy, it would make for easier reading if she had some kind of style or spark attached to her words. As it is so far, reading Twilight is akin to reading a first draft of a story some high-school freshman wrote for her Creative Writing 101 class.

Open Book

"The next day was better...and worse."

Oh Bella. Oh poor, sweet Bella. You should really throw on Epicus Doomicus Metallicus to cheer yourself up in the morning, dear.

Perhaps I'm being too harsh on little B-Swan. After all, she's only a 17 year old female trying to make her way through the gauntlet that is high school. Not a girl, not yet a woman. Floating in that post-pubescent, pre-womanhood purgatory where love and lust wage mind wars and reason takes a back-seat to emotional reaction. Then again, it's hard to feel sorry for a character that can't even get excited about experiencing her first snowfall. I'm sorry, I lied. It's not that she can't get excited about her first snowfall. It's that her first snowfall ruins her fucking day.

Relax, Bells. At least you weren't fishing when it started to snow.

Miss BS spends most of this chapter in a narcissistic funk - Edward's not in school and she thinks it's all her fault. Of course, it is her fault; I can't remember the last time a main character not only felt like the world revolved around them - it actually does. "Just because you're paranoid/doesn't mean they're not after you", sang Cobain.

So when Edward finally comes back and Swamie and he get to have their first moment together you'd think it'd be a really electric, magnetic, page turning scene right? Am I right? It's gotta be! Fucking nope. Instead the two mopesters spend the rest of the chapter in Biology lab, rattling off the stages of mitosis to each other (if there's anything romantic about a cell essentially bangin' itself then splitting into two I must have a different definition of the word) and having the most banal conversation known to man. And vamps.

At least I got to learn why Bell-hop moved to shitty Forks from awesome Pheonix in the first place. Turns out her step-dad is a minor-league baseball player and she didn't feel like gettin the chance to travel all over the country visiting new and exciting places. So she chose to spend some time in the World's Worst Town with a real dad she calls by his Christian name.

Of course, if Edward reacted the way a real person would react after hearing that nonsense the book would only be 50 pages long. As must as I would have preferred that, Meyer felt the need to stretch it out to 10 times that length.

I'm starting to regret nutting up.