Just for giggles...

Because its late, I'm tired, and this made both of us laugh our asses off.

http://calvinscanadiancaveofcool.blogspot.com/2012/09/well-this-is-just-perverse.html

Twilight, 23

In which there is not a fight scene. Yes kids, its Twilight time…

Plot: Bella dreams. She is in pain. She hears the voice of an angel, crying out to her in decidedly un-angelic snarls. Your blogger sings to his girlfriend in iridescently angelic tones. She informs him that the abuse of tobacco will not be tolerated in their apartment. Carlisle shows up. He mutters "infodump exposition infodump." Or, possibly, something about Bella having broken her leg and several ribs, just in case any readers weren't paying attention when these things happened three pages ago. Also, the tracker bit her and venom is spreading. Carlisle instructs Edward to suck the venom from the wound, on the grounds that our friendly-neighborhood superhuman doctor is incapable of stitching a headwound fast enough to perform said venom-sucking himself. Edward sucks. Venom, that is. Bella smella gasoline, and proceeds into unconsciousness. Finis.

Rant: Just in case anyone was laughing too hard at my witticism to notice, I'd like to point out once again that this chapter is completely free of fight scenes. Meaning none. Zero. Why, you might ask, did I want/expect a fight, given the near-certainty that Stephenie Meyer would find a hilariously idiotic way to bungle delivery of same? You ask, and I answer, in one word: Catharsis. The tracker, while incomparably shitty in conception and execution, is the villain of this little skid-mark on the underthings of world literature. His death should, in theory, be a fairly major event. Significant. Perhaps something the audience might be interested in seeing, just maybe. Catharsis can be boiled down thusly: Bad guy does bad things, good guy terminates bad guy, audience dances on bad guy's grave. It is one of the major plot-devices in all genres of literature, dating back to the theatre in ancient Greece. And it only works if the author has the balls to not kill her villain OFF-FUCKING-SCREEN. I feel ill.

So, apparently, does Bella. This chapter is clearly meant as a formal experiment, a twisting of normal literary technique to strengthen the effect of placing the reader inside Bella Swan's echo-chamber of a skull. Which would be great, if SM had the skill to pull it off. She doesn't. Not even close. If anyone is interested in seeing this done properly, read Joyce's Dubliners. Marvel as words on a page somehow create the sensation of rain crawling across bare skin, of flame dancing in your eyes. Then come back, read Twilight and feel…. absolutely nothing, really.

The real problem with the chapter, and the book as a whole, is that there are no stakes. Bella is a little banged (up), and her vampires are mildly peeved. Thats it. Six weeks in a cast for her, a fresh mountain lion or whatever for them, and we're all back in the same mudpit as when the tracker first straggled into our hearts and minds. Edward is still angelic (Hey! More fetishization, awesome! (but not really (actually the exact opposite))), Bella still worships him, and nobody important has more than a few scratches. So, nothing changes, nobody learns anything, and nobody suffers as a result of their numerous fuckups. What exactly is the point of this book?

Twilight, 22

In which your blogger talks about the importance of courage for an author. Hint: Stephenie Meyer doesn't have it. Welcome back to Twilight, kids.

Plot: Bella hangs up from her phonecall with the tracker, who still insists on being called that even though his method of hunting involves intimidating emotionally unstable teenaged girls. She, Alice, and Jasper go to the airport. Bella gives Alice the letter she's written for Edward, which Bella assumes Edward will open even though its supposedly adressed to Bella's mother. Actually, that sound exactly like something Edward would do. At the airport Bella tricks Jasper, whose ability to to read emotions apparently doesn't extend to noticing when someone is contemplating suicide, into letting her out of sight in the women's bathroom. Which has a back exit (note: your blogger flew out of Phoenix last week, and can confirm that the restrooms are indeed designed for ambi-turners). Bella hails a cab and goes to her mother's house, where she finds a phone number. She calls, and the tracker instructs her to come to the nearby ballet studio. Because, obviously,  it makes more sense to go through the inexplicably lengthy machinations of his devious plan instead of waiting for her at the house. Its not like there are another half-dozen vampires, all very protective of Bella, disembarking a plane at that exact second. Oh, wait… Anyways, Bella runs to the studio. Where the vampire doesn't really have her mom. Just a home movie on a VCR, which includes Mrs. Swan saying her daughter's name in a somewhat hysterical tone. Bella is happy about this, and doesn't even get upset when the tracker announces he's going to kill her on video, and leave it for Edward in the hopes of a greater challenge. Oh, and the tracker went after Alice back when she was human. Small world, aint it? The tracker starts hurting Bella. Badly. Trying to make her beg Edward to exact vengeance. Which, admirably enough, she refuses to do. Bella gets cut and blacks out. Finis.

Rant: Another chapter, another chance wasted. Imagine, for a second, that Bella had walked into the ballet studio and found her mother tied to a chair, with the tracker ready to go all Psyco-shower-scene on her. See, there you have a fascinating moral dilemma. Does Bella sacrifice herself so her mother can live? On the one hand, it would be a noble, heroic act to die for someone she loved. On the other, children should outlive their parents. Bella turning and running from the studio, leaving her mother to suffer, would be an ugly but morally justifiable choice. Two options, both right, both wrong. This, Stephenie Meyer, is what some people call psychological complexity. Feel free to take notes.

As is, the scene has no complexity, no shading, none of the flickering grey that makes life so difficult and wonderful. The tracker is bad, Bella is angelic, and we're supposed to suspend diseblief long enough to think that Bella might come out of this with worse than a few stitches and some plaster. Which she won't, obviously. As I've talked about before, this isn't that kind of book. Stephenie Meyer isn't that kind of author. She lacks the conviction to carry her own situations through to their logical conclusion. So what we're left with is a novel that refuses to play by its own rules, which accomplishes little aside from making the plot look pointless and the characters like idiots. Speaking of which…

Alice can see the future. Jasper can read feelings. And yet, they manage to be eluded by an emotionally trainwrecked teenager. I… I don't even know.

The tracker, whose stupidity previously hit rock bottom, spends this chapter digging himself just a little deeper. Here's an idea: When a bunch of vampires, all of whom have previously decided to kill you, are assembling on a certain location, it might be wise to take the homicidal sociopath act elsewhere. Fast. Just a thought. Also, does anybody have any idea why the tracker hates Edward so much? I mean, I know why I hate Edward, but I'm curious if there's anything in the text that might make the villain a 3D character, instead of something the Bond villain factory rejected for being too cliched.

The revelation RE: tracker & Alice is so stupid it makes my eyes hurt. Why? Just… Why?

Last thought for the day: The end of this chapter, with the tracker taking out his mommy issues on Bella, is profoundly ugly and all kinds of disturbing. I have nothing against violence in literature, nor against depictions of torture if it serves a legitimate plot-function. This, though, is gratuitous, unnessecary, and as horrendously de-humanizing to the female character as anything I've read. Either write a light, fluffy little fairy-tale about the delicate princess being saved from a monster, or write a dark, adult novel of overcoming the ugliness lurking in the hearts of men and vampires (or something). Just pick one and stick to it.

Twilight, 21

In which your blogger ruminates on the nature of courage. Hint: he uses precisely none of the characters in this book as examples. Welcome back to Twilight, guys and dolls.

Plot: Alice has another vision. Your blogger contemplates Einstein's definition of insanity. He decides to modify it as follows: "The definition of insanity is repeating the same action multiple times in a row and expecting it to not suck every time." And yes, Stephenie Meyer, we are talking about you. Alice draws the family room in Bella's childhood home. The vampires hold a conference call. Edward is coming to get Bella. Your blogger is certain that Edward will bring much-needed energy and dynamism to the proceedings. In other news, your blogger recently came into posession of a lovely bridge and is selling timeshares. Anyone? Anyone? Bella points out, somewhat rationally, that the tracker is attempting to hurt her through loved ones. Jasper, naturally, uses his deux-ex-mindcontrol to calm her panic. Your blogger refuses to dignify this craptastic plot-device with humor. It is disturbing, invasive, and generally horrible. Anyways, Alice answers the phone, then hands it to Bella. The tracker is on the line. He has kidnapped Bella's mother, and instructs her to ditch the bodyguards and return home. Bella writes a letter declaring her never-ending love for Edward and decides to do just that. Finis.

Rant: So, vampires can hear shifts in an individual human's heartrate from across a crowded room, but can't eavesdrop on a cellphone conversation? Makes perfect sense, according to the entirely consistent rules of the world we've seen established over the preceding two-hundred pages of tightly plotted literature. Or not. Good job, Stephenie Meyer. Don't blame yourself. After all, you're only a woman, and therefore can't be trusted to utilize logic and rationality under pressure. Oh wait, no, that's just the protagonist you've spent years of interviews trying to establish as a feminist icon, when in reality she's the embodiment of everything wrong with American gender relations and patriarchal society as a whole.

I hate idiot plots. And this turd-pit of a chapter features THREE of them. Lets give out some awards...

In third place, the Bronze medal, we have the Cullen family. For their continued inability to turn overwhelming numerical and future-telling advantages into victory, for their consistent refusal to forcibly protect the humans who are Bella's weaknesses, for their failure to dynamically impose their will on any situation except Bella's emotional state, we award the Cullens bronze.

In second place, the Silver, the one and only (thank God) Bella Swan. For her willing conformity to the worst stereotypes of her gender, for her stupid acceptance of her own death when surrounded by a small army of superhumans who have already declared their endless loyalty, for her embracing of existential ennui when faced with the horrors of mild inconvenience in an otherwise perfect life, and most of all, for her inexplicable affection towards one Edward Cullen, the comittee awards Bella silver.

And (drumroll please), in first place, the Gold-Medal winning Grand Champion, the Tracker. For his cowardly targeting of innocent teenagers, for his complete lack of personality, for his idea of a challenge involving the manipulation and intimidation of humans posessing one tenth of his physical power, the comittee has the honor of presenting him the Gold Medal.

How many more chapters do I have to read?

Twilight, 20

In which…. Nothing. Absolutely nothing. Welcome back to Twilight, kids.

Plot: The title of this section is a misnomer. Flat-out lie, really. The chapter has no plot. It exists only through the sheer grandeur of its pointlessness. Your blogger, however, has created a pattern for these reviews and feels obligated to enliven things through relentless mockery. So…
Bella wakes up. In a hotel in Phoenix. The vampires order food and wait for things to happen. Things do not happen. Bella tries to remember how she got to the hotel. Your blogger tries to remember what evil spirit posessed him to suffer this parade of inanity. Bella hangs out with the vampires. Jasper, who you may recall keeping his distance from Bella out of fear that he might go all feeding-frenzy, has no difficulty sharing a couch with her. Because, obviously, one should never let things like logic and continuity get in the way of a shitty story. Alice explains that the other suckheads are in no danger from Tracker and Mrs. Tracker. Why, your blogger is forced to wonder, do the Cullens not roll with Emmett's excellent suggestion of terminating the baddies post-haste? Because, Stephenie Meyer answers, doing so would alleviate the need for Alice's FORESHADOWING vision of a ballet studio, which will most definitively not come back to haunt our heroine in the forty remaining pages. Oh, and Edward calls to spit love at Bella. And Bella leaves a phone-message for her Mom. Finis.

Rant: Oh sweet mother of God that was painful. There is no reason, none whatsoever, for this chapter to exist. It would fit nicely as two paragraphs at the end of the preceding chapter or start of the following, but stretched out to fill pages it is, as the great Roger Ebert once said "an awful experience of interminable length." Alright, I suppose its time I tried to intellectually engage with the material…

Seeing the future sucks as a plot device. Strong plots are always surprising, but in a way that builds on and informs the story that came before. As much as we enjoy the futile excercise of splitting fiction into "genres," the truth is that all great novels are mysteries. The reader is engaged, always, with the question of what happens next. The need to answer this question, and the tension created in its repeated asking, is what kept my younger self up nights, stuffing a towel under the door so my parents couldn't see the light and turning pages with trembling fingers. Stephenie Meyer, who has no faith in her audience's posession of functional frontal lobes, would prefer that we know every event fifty pages in advance, just to emphasize its importance and make sure we are on the lookout. So what if it destroys anything resembling dramatic tension?

And yes, folks, Bella is going to end up in the ballet studio with the evil vampire. But wait! Could it be??? Could this be where the prologue dumps into the narrative???? My God, such genius in the work of Stephenie Meyer. Such generosity. Nobody would ever think, of course, that a book about a girl falling in love with a vampire might, just might, climax with her being threatened by another vampire. So Stephenie Meyer went ahead and told us, right there at the beginning where it could be made big and obvious. Because plot twists arising organically from the interaction of character and circumstance completely suck and should be avoided at all costs.

All quibbles aside, I'm happy to report that there is one genuinely great passage in the chapter: Alice getting to infantilize Bella. I was worried, since Bella had exhibited something like an independent personality in the previous chapters, and she's a weak little girl with hormones and stuff who can't hold herself together without the comfort of her mind-controlling vampire babysitters. It really would be awful, wouldn't it, if fear for her life made her upset, thereby activating the fight-or-flight response that has been fundamentally responsible for much of human ingenuity and evolution over the past few millenia. I mean, girls aren't allowed to make desicions without guys around to tell them what they should be feeling in any given situation, are they? At least Jasper is there to keep her emotional responses in line. Wonderful guy, that Jasper.

Fuck this book and the Mercedes it rode in on.

Twilight, 19

In which Bella Swan has the worst breakup ever. With her Dad. This is every bit as disturbingly unsympathetic as it sounds. Yes kids, its Twilight time….

Plot: Bella and her merry band of moping vampires arrive at the Swan house, where Charlie is awake and waiting. She storms in, yelling that she dumped Edward and has to leave town immediately to escape the pain, or something. Because, obviously, its completely rational for her to flee across state lines instead of asking her father, who happens to be the fucking police chief, to make sure that her creepy ex-boyfriend stays well away. Charlie, temporarily behaving like a parent from another, much better book, suggests that she suspend all drastic life choices for a time when she isn't sobbing hysterically. Bella shouts the exact words her mother used when going splitsville from Charlie and Forks years ago, which your blogger doesn't doubt for a millisecond is the kind of thing divorced parents willingly share with their progeny, and runs out into the night to rejoin her stalker (meaning Edward). Charlie, once again behaving exactly like a character from a Stephenie Meyer book, makes no attempt to stop his teenaged daughter from driving herself to Arizona in the middle of the night, in a truck that your blogger wouldn't trust for a trip to the grocery store. Edward and Bella head back to vampire central, where Laurent is waiting to make some conveniently over-dramatised pronouncements of impending doom, and then everyone splits up to carry out their various parts in the previously described asinine plan. Finis

Rant: Well, that was all kinds of awful. Bella Swan is a deeply, profoundly fucked-up human being. I get that she can't tell Daddy about the vampires. I get that she needs to be somewhere other than Forks in the immediate future. But there has to be a better way. Something that, just for example, doesn't involve making your own father re-live what was probably the worst moment of his entire life. The ends, Stephenie Meyer, do not justify the means. Yes, we all know that Edward and Bella are going to ge their little slice of bonerifically fairy-tale happiness. Congratulations, you're capable of writing a story in which the protagonists get exactly what they want, regardless of how much agony they cause for the genuinely good people helping them along the way. And by congratulations, I mean "grow the fuck up."

Also, the big dramatic moment in this chapter involves Bella using words that neither of her parents, under any concievable circumstances, would have allowed her to hear. Ever. But that isn't important, because Edward-mumble-murmur-dazzle-kiss-love. Once again, Stephenie Meyer, you prove that your grasp of things like "logic" is limited to creating falsely-emotional payoffs to problems that never would have existed without your sledge-hammering them into this latrine-drip of a novel. So, good job with that.

One last thing: The tracker, at the end of this pustule of a chapter, is patrolling alone around the Cullen residence. Alone. There are seven Cullens, by my count. Why, precisely, don't three or four of them go for a jog, find the tracker using Alice's flawless ability to pinpoint exactly where he will be in five minutes, rip his head off and dance on his grave? Oh, right, because violence is only ok when perpetrated against innocent humans and out of Cullen earshot. Sweet Jesus, how was this book ever published?

Twilight, 18

In which the shit continues its eternal war with innumerable devices of an air-circulatory persuasion. Interested? Then, my fellow red-headed step-children, let us rock.

Plot: Stephenie Meyer talks about three vampires walking in to the baseball field. Your blogger contemplates holding his breath until Stephenie Meyer learns the difference between showing and telling. He decides against it. Asphyxiation is a bitch. Carlisle requests that the strangers not kill anyone in the vicinity of Forks. Because, obviously, they're allowed to commit murder as long as he doesn't hear the victims scream. Wonderful role-model, that Carlisle. The wind shifts, and one of the new vamps goes all feeding-frenzy in Bella's direction. Edward makes angry noises. He, Alice and Emmett hustle Bella back to the jeep and make tracks for the Swan residence. Emmett, who can count and therefore realises that the Cullens have a tactical advantage, wants to terminate the strangers and get on with their lives. Your blogger nods approvingly. Edward, naturally, wants to do something convoluted, which is not at all a way for his incompetent author to shoehorn a pre-determined ending into her barf-puddle of a novel. Bella, meanwhile, wants to be involved in planning her own escape from imminent death. Edward ignores her. Because, obviously, ovaries are fickle things and anyone in posession of same is being made stupid by overactive hormones at all times. Anyways, Bella and some vampires are going to Phoenix. Yay. Or, you know, not. Finis.

Rant: Somewhere, at the core of an alternate-universe version of this book written by someone whose worldview includes things like complex morality, lies a fascinating dilemma. In that novel, vampires can't survive without drinking human blood. Human, not animal. There, you see, we have a real problem. If all lives are to be valued equally, then vampires have as much right to vital sustenance as anyone else. Therefore, they have a legitimate case for killing with a clear conscience. That's my little thought-experiment of an alternate world. In Stephenie Meyer's world, the Twilight world, vampires don't have to kill in order to survive. They have no case, none whatsoever, for laying fang on any human being. There are seven Cullens, and three strangers. The new vampires laugh about have eaten recently, about having taken human life. And Carlisle lets them walk. The great Carlisle, the humanitarian, the paragon of all virtue, lets three remorseless killers walk away without a scratch because…. Anyone?

Emmett is fun. Completely cliched (muscle-bound, reckless, hot-tempered etc), but at least he's been written to bring something resembling humor into this little wrist-cutters convention. He want to fight, to do something active and dynamic instead of standing around and bitching when things happen to him. This is a massive improvement over… well, everyone. I wonder if Stephenie Meyer realises that her supporting characters are vastly more interesting than the leads? Probably not, but I'd read the hell out of an an Alice/Emmett spinoff series.

Someone else wants to eat Bella. Awesome. Seriously, the book suffers from a massive lack of narrative tension. Does anyone doubt, really, that the tracker will die and Bella will be fine after a dramatically close call or two? Thought not. And the less we say about Edward's plan, the better. Great plots create drama from the organic action of complex characters. This book creates plot from deux-ex-idiota. That, probably, is what bothers me most about the tracker. He has no reason for wanting Bella's blood. Yes, she smells nice, but winds change and there plenty of women without vampire bodyguards, just waiting to be exsanguinated. The hunt starts because without it, the book would end in a wet fizzle of lukewarmly murmured passion. The whole thing is so… toothless (sorry, I've had a long day).

Oh, and Stephenie Meyer is a misogynist pig. The entire scene in the jeep makes me ashamed for my gender, just on the off-chance we're anything like as horrible as SM clearly believes. But that's a conversation for another day. Be good, interweb.

Cool Kids and Space Cowboys

Or, How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Love the Ennui

We're all depressed. How else do you explain it? The most popular movie in theatres is about a suicidal schizophrenic dressing up as a bat to fight crime. Our national obsession for the week involves dissecting the romantic indiscretions of a certain young woman, who seems to have been very slightly scarred by her upbringing in the nurturing world of showbusiness. Another innocent little girl, America's musical sweetheart, just released her 147th single based around humiliating an ex-boyfriend. No, I take it back. We are not depressed. Narcissistic, invasive, cynical and unforgiving, but not depressed. More power to us.

Take paper and list decades, 1910's at the top and 2010's at the bottom where we belong. Next to each number, write a single word describing the national mood for those ten years. My list, in order: Forthright, Decadent, Terrified, Angry, Triumphant, Languid, Shaken, Industrious, Proud, Scarred, Profoundly and Utterly Fucked Up (technical term). You may not agree with my descriptions- and I'd love to see what other's come up with- but let's take it as a starting point. Notice the pattern. Good, bad, worse, rinse and repeat.

The secret of America: we're shitty frontrunners. Not at first, while the glow from the last great national triumph still backlights our gigantic shadow around the globe. Later, after the anger fades and we sit high atop the throne and think we've always been meant to rule. American exceptionalism has cost us more lives than terrorism. And yes, I remember that day in September when everything changed.

We're terrible frontrunners, but great underdogs. And these days, we're stuck under everyone. Punching bags. Mocked, and rightly so. People around the world listen to the cynicism in our music, watch the masturbatory chaos of our films, read our idolization and destruction of simple, flawed human beings and laugh openly. And I'm so sure I'm happy. The pattern has to hold. We've hit bottom, scraped, dug for a while. We'll get better. Won't we?

Twilight, 17

In which Stephenie Meyer remembers that books are frequently based around "plots," which generally involve things happening and stuff…

Plot: Edward drops Bella at home. The Blacks are waiting. Wow, that sounded racist. Billy brought fish fry. Your blogger approves. Billy and Bella talk, over the course of a scene that in any other book would have been meant as a self-referential parody of every crappy interrogation in every spy movie, ever. Needless to say, he thinks the Cullens are creepy and wishes Bella would put boot to Edward's ass. Then, because anything resembling dramatic conflict is evil and cannot be tolerated, he decides that its all her business anyway and leaves without an argument. Jacob, who you might recall is your blogger's favorite character in the book, has nothing to do because, like all good plot devices, he's being shelved until his idiot author decides she needs to ramp up the love-triangle tension a bit. Charlie arrives and makes angry-dad noises about Bella having a date, since it wouldn't make any sense for him to treat Bella like she has a brain and is perhaps capable of running her own life with his guidance and help. Christ, your blogger despises this book. Edward arrives with a completely non-phallic overiszed jeep. He kiss-dazzles Bella into letting him carry her on his flawlessly alabaster shoulders to the baseball diamond. Because, obviously, teenage girls are governed by their hormones and are completely incapable of utilizing higher brain-function when in the presence of a boy they might be interested in banging at some point in the future. The vampires play baseball. Yes, its precisely as boring as it sounds. Alice gets all upset because the other vampires she foresaw are showing up early, drawn by the noise of the game. They're hungry. Finis.

Rant: I keep trying to tell myself that she's getting better. I mean, the book is about vampires and sex. Can't be boring right? Right? Wrong. So very, very wrong. Lets see…

The conversation between Bella and Billy might be the worst thing in this brainfart of a novel, and I don't say that lightly. Billy comes over because he's worried about his best friend's kid, and tries to warn her away from danger. Cool. My question: does he know about the vampirism deal? Aside from that minor issue, the Cullen's are sickeningly flawless, so there wouldn't be much reason for him to be concerned with Bella (not)boning one of them. If he does know, why in the hell does he leave without putting up anything resembling a fight? Oh, that's right, he leaves because the entire scene arises from Stephenie Meyer artificially creating conflict to show how much Edward and Bella have overcome en-route to the climactic sexy-times three books down the line. Which might work, if the aforementioned obstacles to coitus didn't have all the substance of damp toiletpaper.

Now, I know I talk about my personal life a lot on this blog, but hopefully the audience can be patient another few moments while I make a excessively long-winded point… My girlfriend is five years younger than I am. We started dating right after she turned 18. I've known her parents for years (long story), and like them a great deal, but the first time I met them as the guy sleeping with their baby girl I was a complete nervous-breakdown-oh-shit-why-the- hell-am-I-doing-this-run-now-you-fucking-fool wreck. The pre-emptive freakout, as is so often the case, turned out to be completely unessecary. They were warm, welcoming, and quite distinctly didn't make any death threats. After dinner, when I asked to be pointed in the direction of a guest room, they both laughed, thanked me for my good manners, said I had their permission to stop hyperventilating and also to sleep with their daughter (which I did). Several months later, I asked her father why he'd been so cool about the whole thing. His answer: "She's happy, and we know she's safe with you. Why would we mind?"

And now back to Twilight. Charlie Swan is portrayed as a reasonable guy, a little blunt and uncivilised, but a fundamentally good man who adores his daughter. Men like that, in my experience, don't throw fits because their 17 year old is showing interest in a boy from school. Actually, if I remember right he asked Bella why she hadn't been on any dates yet. So why, you might ask, does the good Chief Swan turn into a walking crappy-movie stereotype at the first hint of Bella experiencing puberty? Because Stephenie Meyer has run out of sycophantic descriptors for Edward and needs something to fill a couple of pages, that's why. In a weird way, this is a good sign. SM seems to realize that her book needs something in the way of conflict before drowning in a sea of murmurs. Unfortunately, her delivery of that conflict involves torpedoing a character, but hey its a start.

I've already discussed, at length, how disturbing I find the fetishizing of the vampire family. So, I'm not going to touch the baseball scene, except to say that I was hoping for Rosalie to hit a ball straight through Edward's skull and out the other side. Or Bella's. That would work too. Anything to make it stop. Also, what I said about the conversation with Billy being the worst thing in this book? Not true. Edward hypnotizing Bella through the perfection of his glitter-skinned kisses is the worst thing I've read in my entire life. Borderline pornographic, completely misogynistic, so awful and wrong on every conceivable level. Maybe not pornographic, now that I think about it. Porn is obscene, but honestly and openly so. Twilight pretends to be wholesome, but its rotten to the core.

Wow, epic post. We'll pick this up again soon, interwebs. Peace.

Twilight, 16

In which Stephenie Meyer demonstrates her ability to write a marginally less boring stream of bullshit. Wait, was that a compliment? Is anyone recording this? Let's move on...

Plot: Edward and Bella walk into Carlisle's office, just in time to watch the good doctor's undoubtedly flawless marble ass retreating in the direction of the hospital. Where, maybe, he can save enough people to make up for the murder spree committed by his vampiric progeny. Because, obviously, it makes perfect sense that someone committed to protecting humanity would unleash a half-dozen supernatural killers upon it. Yes, your blogger is still bitter about that little anal wart of a character flaw. Anyways, Edward recounts the story of how Carlisle, having been turned into a Vamp(ire), discovered that he could feed from animals, and so became a semi-productive member of society. Also, Carlisle spent a few decades hanging with the vampire aristocracy in Italy, which instantly sounds more interesting than anything that has happened in this book. Our leads go to Edward's room, which appears to have been copied from Graceland during the last days of Elvis' drug addiction, but whatever. They have a ticklefight, and then two other vampires show up and say something about playing baseball in a thunderstorm. Finis.

Rant: Waaaay back in another post I'm too lazy to look up, I talked about how much I wanted to like the material surrounding Edward's vampirism reveal. This is another chapter I really, really wanted to love. But didn't. Because Stephenie Meyer is an idiot, and doesn't realize that her male protagonist is both a horrifying stalker/rapist/Charles Manson hybrid, and the most boring pile of romantic cliches ever put to paper. Carlisle, while similarly disturbing in his fetishized perfection, is much more interesting. He made the choice to live with humanity, instead of treating them strictly as cattle (I'm willing to look past the whole creation of other vampires bit, as a symptom of his existential depression). He found the willpower to resist feeding, to live by a moral code even with powerful motivations to do otherwise. The story of how he made these choices has to be fascinating, right? But it isn't, because he isn't in the room to tell it.

See, Stephenie Meyer is so focused on Edward as the Alpha and Omega that she can't even allow her other characters space to breathe under the alabaster blanket of his creepiness. Carlisle should be the one telling the story, because adding his perspective would allow some of the internal moral dialogue surrounding his actions to filter out and become part of the world of the book. We could see the embodiment of the vampiric struggle to be good in the face of their own nature, and the chapter might become downright compelling. It isn't awful as is, probably the best chapter since Jacob Black's introduction, but what a missed opportunty. Not that I expect anything less from SM, at this point.

Quick hits… Edward holds Bella like a baby. Again. I die a little inside every time that particular motif rears its shitpile of a head. From what I hear, the vampire aristocrats become major players in the next 3 books. While I'm sure SM will find a fascinatingly awful way to bungle it, the idea of castes within this society has loads of potential. The vampire house is so… ordinary. One hundred and five years and he can't come up with anything more creative than a couch and CD's and big windows? The scene on aforementioned couch is hilariously awful. Agressive cuddling? Really? I keep waiting for white Michael Jackson to show up. He and Edward would have lots to talk about….

Sweet dreams, interwebs. We'll talk soon.

Twilight, 15

In which…. Oh why bother, you know I'm just going to make fun of it anyways.

Plot: Bella wakes up. Edward is still there. Dammit. Bella sits on his lap like an infant. Multiple times. Which isn't weird at all, obviously. Turns out Edward left and came back, after listening to Bella talk in her sleep in yet another moment that most definitely doesn't read like an author recycling her own ideas from earlier in the book that yes, really were terrible the first time she shoehorned them into the plot. Anyways, our fearless leads dramatically murmur their declarations of love. During breakfast, Big E decides he wants Bella to meet his family. Who, apparently, have been taking bets on whether he'll lose control and treat Bella the way frathouses treat beerkegs. Because it makes perfect sense, instead of actually taking steps to stop him murdering an innocent teenager, to watch with mild interest and place wagers on the outcome. Bella gets dressed, then faints when Edward kisses her. I… I'm honestly speechless. Lets move on. They go to the vampire house, and meet a bunch of relentlessly boring plot-devices masquerading as characters, each with their glaring neon sign of a defining personality trait. Edward plays the piano. Bella cries again but mercifully stays concious. Edward tells the (vaguely not-terrible) story of Carlisle becoming a suckhead. Finis.

Rant: Bella faints. She fucking faints. From being kissed. This book makes my skull hurt. Stephenie Meyer is, I believe, married with children. Which means, theoretically, that she has a certain amount of experience with kissing and related horizontal activities. I have nothing against a good makeout session. Done right, it can feel sexy and wild and passionate and almost impossibly intimate. All beautiful things. But this is something out of a Victorian pornographic novel, the kind of thing highclass women who weren't allowed within fifty yard of a man unchaperoned used to read as escapist fantasy. Presented in this context, as the action of an intelligent, empowered American teenager, its utter horseshit. Stephenie Meyer has no idea what it feels like to kiss someone and want it to last forever, so she's substituting a physical reaction and hoping nobody will notice.

Edward's family are worthless. Despite having well-founded doubts about his ability to maintain proper distance between his incisors and Bella's carotids, they allowed our heroes to spend an entire day together, in the middle of the FUCKING WOODS. And tooks bets on it, because having a little money on the line makes everything more fun. And yet, we're supposed to like these hypocritical freaks, because…. Anyone? Anyone? Pardon me if I don't nominate Carlisle for father of the year just yet.

Stephenie Meyer's quest to portray the central relationship of her entire series as pedephilic molestation continues apace. Bella sits on Edward's lap like a small child, allows him to carry her downstairs, struts around trying to hold his attention like a petulant ten-year-old. Even their dialogue in the bedroom carries a tone of complete condesencion, as in a father talking to a much-loved but slightly slow daughter. I'm not going to spend any more time on it tonight, except to say that the whole thing is impossibly creepy and makes my skin crawl.

Carlisle's story isn't bad, with the minor problem of it being a blatant rip-off from Stoker's Dracula. Seriously Stephenie Meyer, try to disguise the plagiarism a bit better. That said, the idea of a man of God being transformed into the thing he was taught to hunt can be the basis of a strong dramatic arc. Well, with a different author it could be. Good night, interwebs.

Twilight, 14

In which your blogger compares Stephenie Meyer to James Joyce. No, your blogger has not been drinking. Interested? Then, my fellow denizens of the dark and stormy night, let us rock.

Plot: Edward drives. Oldies conveniently come on the radio and he sings along. Bella asks his age. Edward, it turns out, is 105 years old. One Hundred. And. Five. Years. Much, much more on this in a moment. Edward tells the story of how his little rat-pack of a family came into being. Carlisle got sick of being lonely, so in his merciful wisdom decided to unleash four additional blood-lusting superhumans on the world. Swell guy, that Carlisle. But of course, this doesn't matter because love murmur sparkle sparkle sparkle. In a related story, your blogger has now started drinking. By the way, there are more vampires. Mostly nomadic. Because, obviously, a bunch of ultra-intelligent indestructible supermen will have no interest in shaping world affairs. None whatsoever. Our heroes arrive back at the Swan residence, a building with which Edward is remarkably familiar. Because he's been coming every night to watch Bella sleep. She finds this flattering and romantic. Your blogger finds it abhorrent. Charlie arrives home and does not, to your blogger's endless regret, put several bullets between Edward's creepy eyes. Bella excuses herself early and runs upstairs, where she finds her stalker waiting in her bedroom. They discuss the forceful sensation of being in love. Your blogger steps away from the computer and spends a few minutes throwing darts with his girlfriend, reminding himself as he does that Stephenie Meyer has no fucking idea what love actually feels like.

Rant: People think that writing and publishing are solitary professions. In reality, any given novel is proofread, edited, revised, copyedited, revised again, edited again, and generally filtered through the intelligence of at least a half-dozen adults before ever hitting a bookshelf. In the case of giant bestsellers like this book, that number can easily be doubled. Which makes it all the more mindblowing that this abortion of a story was ever allowed to see the light of day.

Edward Cullen is one hundred and five years old. ONE HUNDRED AND FIVE YEARS. Bella Swan is seventeen. This spring, a schoolteacher was (quite rightly), fired, arrested, made a pariah, and all but tarred and feathered on the SUSPICION that he'd begun a relationship with an underage student.  She was probably seventeen when the relationship started. He was in his forties. Imagine, for a second, that he'd been 105 years old. Not a schoolteacher perhaps, just a stalker asshole with enough money and mysterious charm to attract a defenseless child. Would we call that romantic? Marvel at the miracle of these two souls at different stages of their lives finding everlasting love? Or would we call the old guy a pedophile monster, and scream as a nation for his arrest?

And then it gets worse. Look, relationships are not about two souls merging into one. That's a load of crap and always has been. I love my girlfriend, love spending time with her doing anything or nothing, miss her more than I care to admit when she's gone. And I still cherish the fact that we have seperate interests, different social groups, varied hobbies and jobs. She is a huge part of my life, and I wouldn't trade that for anything on the planet, but part of the reason we have so much fun together is that we each live a full, dynamic life that we can share with each other. All of which is a very long-winded preamble to saying that Edward and Bella have the least healthy relationship I've ever had the displeasure of reading. Slowly (ok, not that slowly), he is removing every tie she has to the outside world. Surrounding her with his obession. He has no respect for her boundaries, no conception of privacy, no ability to percieve the world beyond his own needs.

Stalking is not courtship. Obsession is not love. And Twilight is not worth any more of our time. Goodnight.

Twiday the 13th

In which Stephenie Meyer flawlessly explains her own book…. 

Plot: Edward sparkles. That sound you hear is Bram Stoker screaming from the beyond. Bella holds his hand. A conversation comprised entirely of murmurs, grins, challenges, and stroking of glittering skin ensues. That sound you hear is your blogger screaming from his kitchen. To make matters far, far worse, it appears that Bella smells amazingly yummy to people of the vampiric persuasions. Edwards explains that she is, to put it bluntly, precisely his brand of heroin. Oh, and his brothers killed some people. But that doesn't matter because they're all nice and everything now. Except for the one who sort of isn't, but that still doesn't matter because dazzle-love-sparkle-murmur-blah-fucking-blah. Your blogger googles "statute of limitations murder," and begins taking notes. Bella touches Edward's face. He spazzes and leaves (ed. not for long enough) but comes back to explain in much detail how easily he could kill her. Bella swoons (ed. see what I did there?). Edward puts her on his back and runs back to the truck, which takes like 3 seconds because love gives you special powers. Or something. Bella almost pukes. Our leads have their first kiss, and Edward declares his love by promising to try really really hard to not rip her throat out. Your blogger runs to the nearest church, weeping that he has lost all faith in humanity. Finis.

Rant: Aaaaaand we've reached a new low. Again. Still, I'd like to congratulate Stephenie Meyer for perfectly encapsulating her own book in one little passage about heroin. These two are addicts, defined by their blind and unhealthy need. That is the defining characteristic of their "relationship." Not love, not a desire to bring each other joy, to face the challenging world as a team and overcome every obstacle in their way. Ugly, senseless Want. And Stephenie Meyer thinks this is the foundation of a great romance. She thinks that the ability to control their wanton desires is the basis of true love. I feel ill. 

Vampirism has always been about sex. Stoker's original (and quite brilliant) novel is basically a long diatribe against foreigners brining STD plagues to Britain. Think about it. Vampires visit their victims - usually young women- at night and often in their bedrooms. The vampire physically penetrates the victim, and corrupts through the exchange of bodily fluids. Not the most subtle bit of mythmaking ever, but the overt relevance to cultural experiences of the time is what gave the vampire so much staying power. And now, we have this pile of overheated feces stealing Stoker's legacy…

This entire chapter is about Edward and Bella wanting to screw themselves senseless, and resisting because…. I'm honestly not sure. The imagery and dialogue are highly sexualised (although with a disturbing overtone of rape and pedopehlia), especially in the "romantic" gesture of Edwards lips repeatedly being at her throat. What's weird, though, is that they take turns infantilising each other. Edward puts his head on Bella's chest (son to mother). Bella rides on his back (daughter to father). This, when Edward isn't rambling about the effort it takes to not bite/rape her on the spot.

I'm young enough to remember sex being very, very scary. I'm sure the girl I shared those first few experiences with was equally frightened. But we got through the fear, and started having lots of fun, because we each cared deeply about making the other happy. There's nothing wrong with being nervous, or flat-out terrified, about going to bed for the first time with someone you love. But you should never, ever, be scared of them. If you are, it isn't love. That's called rape, no matter how well its disguised or gallantly its presented. This chapter is about Edward telling Bella, flat out, that he is going to rape her and there isn't a thing she can do to stop it. No, this is not romance. Seek help, Stephenie Meyer. 

Reading Wishes: Blogspiration (2): Wise Words

Reading Wishes: Blogspiration (2): Wise Words:

A short, really lovely passage from our friends at Reading Wishes. Take 30 seconds to read it and make your day a little better.

Twilight, 12

In which your blogger contemplates passive agression. Spoiler: he doesn't like it. Further spoiler: This chapter sucks. Interested? Then, my fellow crips and bloods, let us rock.

Plot: Jacob and Billy Black watch the game at the Swan residence. Football, I think. Your blogger adds "sports" to the lengthening list of things Stephenie Meyer heard about at the tail-end of a bender with a bunch of blacking-out former Grateful Dead roadies and decided to put into her book, just because. Jacob and Bella talk, boringly. Bella, despite having had the undivided attention of everything with a functional penis since her arrival in Forks, is still mystified by a boy expressing the fact that yes, he might be interested in a relationship of the more-than-friendly persuasion. The Blacks leave and Edward comes back. Much worshipfull discussion of Edward's beauty ensues. Your blogger tracks down the Grateful Dead groupies and asks for some of whatever they're smoking. It doesn't help. At home that night, Bella drinks cough syrup to sleep, because the anguish of being away from Edward is making her act like a goldfish on carpet. Edward arrives the next morning and they go to the forest. Bella can't drive properly with the heat of Edward's gaze radiating through her bones. Your blogger fixes his girlfriend with a smoldering glare. She advises him to drink chicken soup and rest in bed for the next couple of days. Edward and Bella walk to a meadow. Its pretty. Edward walks out into the sunlight and….. and….. finis.

Rant: Remember how, not that long ago, there was another chapter featuring Jacob Black, and it kinda sorta wasn't awful? Well, neither does SM. Jake shows up in this chapter as a massive load of FORESHADOWING crap. Yes folks, he will eventually become the rival for Bella's disturbingly committed affections. Good luck, kid. In the meantime, I'll be praying that your jackass author doesn't forget about the personality and voice and recognizably human motivations that made me like you in the first place. But, based on this chapter, she already has.

Bella needs a shrink, and in the worst possible way. She and Edward aren't even officially dating, and already her entire life is defined by his presence (or the lack of it). Look, if this was just a teenage girl liking her boyfriend a little too much I wouldn't even blink. We've all been there, and its a healthy and natural part of figuring out what a relationship actually is. Bella, though, has nothing beyond their mutual emotional need. Notice how, when Edward isn't there, she isn't capable of normal interaction with other people? She's very, very far gone, and only getting worse. Especially when you take into account that he's repeatedly promised to do her physical harm, and for some who-the-fuck-knows of a reason that makes her want him even more. And yes, I said "want," not "love."

If anyone thinks I'm delving too deep into the brain of a fictional character… well, you're probably right. I think this exercise is important, though. I'm a grown man, with a stablized personality and a strong social structure around me. That's why I can read this crap from an intellectual remove, and give it the mocking it richly deserves. Problem is, most of the audience for this is young, female, and still learning how to define their relationships with romantic/sexual partners. And the thought of someone like that reading this book and taking it to heart scares the hell out of me. So, my goal is to use this book, rancid though it is, as the starting point for a much larger conversation. Maybe then it won't be such a waste of good trees after all.

The Dark Knight does what again?

No Twilight tonight, because I had a long day and those posts take forever to write. Snark is an artform, and art can't be rushed.

Went to the Batman movie last night. My girlfriend, incidentally, is what she refers to as a "recovering comichead." Beautiful, smart, and a complete nerd. How did I get this lucky? Anyways… I'd been interested to see this more than any movie in the past couple of years. Reviews have been mixed. Travers loves it, Ebert is enthusiastic but careful, the dude at Slate calls it a masterpiece, Denver Post says it sucks. Weird, since all four usually fall for anything with technical skill and something resembling intellectual ambition.

I see why people are lukewarm. The film takes its sweet time getting to the good stuff, and even that is oddly muted. Batman has two big hand-to-hand scenes in nearly three hours, and one of those consists of him getting his ass kicked. Not what you'd expect, from the ungodly-budgeted sequel to the ungodly-grossing critical darling of all comic-book movies. The fights are centered around vehicles, which by definition have no personality, and the film's big dramatic payoff comes with a dude doing the longjump, basically. All legitimate criticisms, and obstacles to enjoying what I honestly think is the best movie I've seen this year. So why the diference? Well, aside from a bunch of good critics walking in expecting The Avengers and blinking when Nolan hit them, a few things.

First, this is a film about age. For all his ability to shrug off knee injuries/concussions/vertebraestickingoutofhisfuckingspine, Bruce Wayne is older and physically broken. He's skilled enough to handle the various faceless henchmen, but against Bane (a stronger, more savage version of himself) he has nothing. This is important, because his emotional arc leads to the acceptance of that age, the knowledge that he no longer has the edge of insanity that gave him his abilities in the first place. The clock spins backwards for a few key moments (the second fight), but this is a Batman with grey on his wings. Yes, there are less fights, but there is less fight in his personality. In TDK, he took a savage joy in his work- watch him slam Joker's skull into a table and tell me didn't enjoy that- but not anymore.

Second, the villain. Tom Hardy is a spectacular actor, and gives us a Bane for the ages, but with that mask he doesn't have the raw charisma of Ledger in the second film. Nor should he. The Joker is frightening because he represents anarchy, but for that exact reason he is not a threat to Batman on a psycological level. Crazy people are just crazy, even when they temper that quality with intelligence and organization. Bane, though, isn't a lunatic. He knows precisely what he is doing, and works towards intelligently determined goals. That, I think, is the reason for the high-culture Brit rasp coming out from behind the mask. He is cultured, and civilized, and so very close to what Bruce could have been, in another time and place and life. The Joker is an agent of chaos, but Bane is the dark mirror held up for Batman to look into his own soul.

Last, and this is where we get meta, the role of comic book movies. Look, I applaud Marvel for their accomplishments in the last five years. The Avengers is beautifully done and great entertainment, as are all the films leading up to it in that universe. Thing is, that's all the Marvel films have, surface and gloss and punchlines. That's ok. They're tons of fun, and cinema is about entertainment. But Nolan is after something deeper and darker and more complicated. TDKR isn't a particuarly fun film, and I say that as someone who enjoyed it immensely. This movie is about one man commiting suicide, letting the second personality hidden under his skin drift into the night and die quietly. The joy we feel at the end, watching Alfred's eyes tear, is earned. In order for it to be so, we have to take a very dark journey indeed, and some of the reckless fun of other, easier comic movies is lost in the process. So yes, this is a hard film to enjoy. Its called The Dark Knight Rises, people. As yourself: rising from what?

Twilight, 11

In which your blogger thinks about sex. A lot. Also vampires. And, of course, the depressed and depressing. Interested? Then, my fellow children of the corn, let us rock.

Plot: Bella and Edward go to biology class, sitting so close they almost touch. Please hold your screams to the end, ladies. The teacher, completely coincidentally and in a move that doesn't reek in the slightest of Deux-Ex-Machina by an overmatched author, is showing a movie. Bella feels a spark coming off Edward, who really shouldn't have worn fleece over flannel. She watches his eyes smoldering in the dark. Your blogger throws up in his mouth, just a little. The movie ends and they walk to gym. Edward… No, I can't believe it…. touches her on the cheek. Bella survives gym, despite being too dazzled to do much of anything. Mike doesn't like Edward. Good judge of character, that Mike. Edward, obviously, listened to Mike's thoughts during the class. Somehow this is romantic. People are staring at Rosalie's car. Bella has heard of BMW, an automaker which sold 247,907 cars in fiscal year 2011. Her mother must be so proud. Edward won't let her see him hunt because when they do, vamps go into a kind of feeding frenzy. Not bad, Stephenie Meyer, not bad. Edward asks lots of questions, such as about Bella's favorite color, which, obviously, has changed to the exact shade of his eyes. Bad, Stephenie Meyer, very bad. The questions continue. Your blogger decides not to waste your time with recapping. Big E drops her at home, and leaves suddenly when Billy Black adds a little sanity to the proceedings by showing up and glaring at him. Finis.

Rant: This chapter exists. I don't know why. Nothing happens, except for boring and pointless exposition layered with scenes re-used from earlier in the book. Stephenie Meyer seems to have run out of ideas, and so begins stealing from herself (hint: if you're going to plagiarize, aim higher). There is, for example, the scene of Bella being comically clumsy in gym. Maybe this is supposed to function as plot development, showing Bella's inability to keep the creepy vampire from fucking with her brain (or something). Maybe its a character note, presenting Bella's awful self-image as a contrast to the earlier bits of Edward drooling at her. Maybe Stephenie Meyer has heard that literature is usually made up of words and sentences all jumbled together, so she decided to do that just like a real author. I don't know. Or care, really.

There are, oddly enough, rational characters in this mess. Mike, Charlie, and Billy all exhibit something that could be considered sensible human motivations. Except that, in the cesspit of SM's worldview, Mike is pathetic and annoying, Charlie oblivious, and Billy inexplicably hostile. They'd get in the way of the fantasy, and so must be marginalized and dismissed. Meanwhile, Edward is perfect, flawless, exquisite, and every other disgustingly worshipful descriptor SM found in what I'm sure is a singularly well-thumbed copy of the OED. He can do no wrong, even when reducing Bella's fragile self-esteem to complete dependence on him, and depriving her of anything resembling privacy for good measure.

Now about all the touching… Look, I'm a 23 year old dude. I have a gorgeous girlfriend (who keeps asking why I'm torturing myself by reading this crap, but nvm). I can honestly say that I've never been so attracted to anyone in my life. But here's the thing: there are a lot of beautiful women in the world, and I'd have a lot of fun going to bed with, well, with basically any of them. With her… we have just as much fun afterwards, holding each other all night and talking and laughing and dreaming together. Imagine Edward and Bella in bed, right after consummating their "relationship". What the hell would they talk about?

A story that needs to be heard….

http://www.bitemybooks.com/2012/07/17-year-old-rape-victim-refused-to-be.html

Everybody, please read this. Sign the petition, shine a light, bring the change. I'm still collecting my thoughts about this story, and may or may not do a post about it. For now, lets go viral with this sucker. Some things need to be seen.

Twilight, 10

In which nothing makes any sense…

Plot: Bella wakes up, wondering if the previous night was a dream. To borrow a line from Inception, "You musn't be afraid to dream a little bigger darling." She finds Edward, en-volvo'd, waiting to drive her to school. By the way, fifty bucks to anyone who can explain SM's volvo fetish. Quality cars…but, come on. Give him something capable of breaking 100mph if you're going to mention it every damn page. They park next to E's sister's flashy car. I write "sportscar" just below "computer" on the list of things Stephenie Meyer has clearly never seen. Guess that explains the volvo business. Which is sad, since she's a kajillionaire and could buy a different Lambo for every day of the week, if she wasn't so busy polluting the publishing industry with this drivel. Anyways, Bella spends the day being interrogated by her friend whose name I probably should've learned by now. She and big E meet for lunch, and spend that romantic interlude debating which of them loves the other more. Yes, really. Oh, and Edward eats mountain lions for fun. Finis. 

Rant: This evening, we begin with a quote. "Has he kissed you yet?" -boring friend whose name I will now stop pretending to care about. And that, my friends, is the entire problem with this book, presented in a single excruciatingly shitty sentence for your mocking pleasure. What? My turn already? If you insist.

Bella is passive. Things happen to her, not because of her. Look at how she reacts to finding out her crush is a GODDAMN VAMPIRE. FYI, I refuse to refer to Edward as her boyfriend. That term would imply a relationship, which only happens when people have common interests and mutual passion and actual conversations. But I digress. Bella treats the vampirism news as a mildly diverting, even pleasantly interesting shift in her world. About how I react to finding out the RedSox made a big trade, basically. I can't say it enough, but this is not how real people act. This is what happens when a crappy amateur writer has a sexual fantasy and somehow makes a book out of it. Nice gig, if you can get it. 

The other, and immense, issue with that quote is that it implies Bella's sexual future will be equally out of her control. Edward will decide when to kiss her, and presumably when to do other things. Unless we're living in Afghanistan and nobody told me, women are allowed a vote in these things too. There's lots of other stuff here I could dissect (haven't even touched on the lunch scene), but somehow the insides of my eyelids seem more interesting than this book, so I'm gonna call it a night. Peace. 

Twilight, 9

In which your blogger ponders the dangers of pop-culture…

Plot: Bella and Edward drive home. Edward likes to drive really fast. This, your blogger supposes, is SM's version of character building. Big E, to the surprise of absolutely nobody, is a vampire. He doesn't sleep, is unaffected by sunlight, and survives on the blood of animals. Your blogger wonders how PETA hasn't thrown a fit about that last bit. Ah well, still time… Bella handles all of these things with roughly the same amount of excitement your blogger evinces when presented with a particularly compelling grocery list by his mother. Edward tells Bella that she realy needs to stay away from him, despite the fact that he's been FOLLOWING HER ALL NIGHT. I don't even have a joke for this. It is deeply disturbing and I refuse to dignify it with humor. Anyways… our leads declaim about how much they can't concentrate while apart or something. Bella eventually gets back to her room, and decides that she is "completely irrevocably in love" with the creepy vampire dude who likes to talk about how he's still seventeen despite really being much older and therefore kind of a pedophile, since the age of consent in WA is still 18, as of the last time your blogger looked (roughly 30 seconds ago).

Rant: I publicly committed to reading this entire series (albeit not under my real name) and I'm going to do it because I don't like to break promises. But we should be clear about something: I despise this book. It has no redeeming qualities, no cultural or literary value. The world is a worse place because it exists. I strongly recommend that you go read something else, and I'll be delighted to provide recommendations to make that process easier.

Now then… This chapter is utter crap on every level. It is terribly written, with the inordinate amount of dialogue only serving to highlight SM's annoying use of adverbs, dialogue verbs, and every other crutch terrible writers have been using since Rome. But honestly, I could forgive those faults if they were presented in service of characters or a story I wanted to read.

They are not. Edward is an awful, profoundly fucked-up abomination of a character. Think about the way he is acting here. He follows Bella without permission, invades her privacy and the most intimate thoughts of her friends, informs her that he will probably do physical violence to her at some point in the future, and that's supposed to be HIS DECLARATION OF LOVE. Oh, and he's an old man saying these things to a vulnerable teenage girl. I don't care how well preserved you are, asshole. Having a good skin-care regime does not make you young.

I wish the shit stopped flowing with Edward, but it doesn't. Why? BECAUSE BELLA TAKES IT. She hears all of this, all of the same things that have me grinding my teeth as I type, and declares her irrevocable love. Stephenie Meyer, listen up: Relationships are about compromise, the meeting and joining of two personalities, each with dreams and desires and opinions and lives of their own. What you've presented here, Stephenie Meyer, is not the start of a relationship. I don't know what it is, other than profoundly and utterly wrong.

If I saw my little sister reading this book, I would take it from her hands and burn it to ash. Good night.

Twilight, 8

In which Bella is stupid, humanity is awful, and your blogger ponders the nature of secrets. Also, Edward is back. This does not fill me with eternal joy.

Plot: Bella and two other girls whose names I still haven't bothered to learn go to Port Angeles to buy dresses for the upcoming dance everyone is so inexplicably obsessed with. They shop, and make what I'm sure SM fondly imagines could be called "girl talk." Because, obviously, humans of the female persuasion talk about boys, clothing, shoes and absolutely nothing else. They finish early, and Bella splits away from the other two in order to find a bookstore. She walks into the wrong part of town, and gets "herded" into a trap by a bunch of men with less-than-honorable intentions. Edward, long lost and not even slightly missed, shows up, scatters the bad dudes, and hilariously demands Bella distract him so that he won't turn his shiny volvo around and rip out their throats (ed. why not, dammit?).  He and Bella go to dinner, passing and dismissing the other girls on their way in. Edward dazzles every woman in the restaurant. Oh, and he's been following Bella all night. Dear Bella: when a guy stalk you without permission, you're allowed to call the police. Your father, for example. Bella does pretty much the exact opposite of that. Oh, and Edward can read minds. That's probably important. Anyways, Edward puts his head in his hand (ed. really?) and they declaim at each other a while longer before leaving. Finis.

Rant: You know, I've read a lot of novels in my life. Many of them featured characters I didn't like. And that's cool. Great villains are one of the markers of quality literature, especially the action/adventure/sf/f I've always loved. So, disliking a character, their actions and personality and driving forces, is nowhere near being a dealbreaker. Usually the opposite, in fact. All that said, Edward Cullen is the first literary character I've actively despised. I mean this on two levels. First, Edward Cullen the person (I strongly believe we should treat characters as people within the diegetic world), is disgusting. He follows Bella, robs her of any and all agency in determining her actions, and treats other people as lesser lifeforms. THAT'S NOT ROMANTIC, JACKASS. Second, I absolutely hate the thought process that went into creating him. As said above, great books almost always have great villains. Except, as I'm sure you've noticed, Edward is supposed to be the hero. SM wants us to see this creepy, arrogant, condescending, stalkerish prick as a knight-in-armor, come to rescue the helpless female who can't possibly be entrusted with the awesome responisbility of navigating through the big, scary world all by her lonesome. Seriously, read this chapter, notice how every single woman is ready to spread their legs for Edward, and tell me SM isn't a misogynist.

I spent four years in Hartford, CT, counting sirens every night as I lay in bed. Thing was, I never had a bit of trouble in the city. Partially because I'm not an idiot about this stuff, but mostly because the vast majority of people are productive members of society who really have no interest in hurting anyone. Wht I'm trying to get at is this: SM's view of humanity is horrible. The men Bella encounters are brutish, sex-obsessed, and barely evolved past ape-level. So, the choice becomes between living in that world, and giving in to the alabaster prison of Cullen-style ownership. Those aren't the only options, folks.

Other things… How funny is it when Edward tells Bella to distract him so he won't kill the would-be rapists? Honestly, I wish SM had the guts to have him turn around and start shredding jugulars. That, at least, would force the characters into interesting moral dilemmas and choices. As is, this whole thing is so… bloodless (sorry, couldn't resist). Those other girls eat awfully fast. Its almost like their incompetent author needed a way to drop that mini-scene into the book, so she went ahead an did it, temporal conundrums be damned.

And I think that'll do it for another night. Stay classy, San Diego.

Twilight, 7

In which your fearless tourguide contemplates the dangers of being an English major. Interested? Then, boys and girls, let us rock.

Plot: Bella has a dream. Jacob turns into a wolf, and Edward shows up in full vampire-mode and performs an interpretative dance based on the life of Klaus Kinski. Also, foreshadowing. Actually, this is more like fore-spotlighting, fore-neonoutlining, and fore-powerpointingwith50ptfont, but whatever. Bella wakes up. She googles "vampires." I wonder how SM became a published author, because based on this scene her only contact with a computer involved a senile great-aunt describing one once, but again, whatever. Bella goes outside and tries to read Jane Austen, which fails becasue Austen wrote heroes with names beginning in E. Yes, really. That scene exists. Bella wonders if Edward is a vampire. She contemplates ignoring him for the rest of forever, but decides against it because the though is too painful. I make confused noises. Our heroine returns to school. Things of much boringness occur. Big E isn't there, so Bella decides to go dress-shopping with other girls. Finis.

Rant: I don't even know where to start. Maybe the Jane Austen scene, with its ham-fisted namedropping of literary classics whose titles this book is not worthy of mentioning? Perhaps the computer scene, which reads like a collaboration between an Alzheimers patient and an overcaffienated six-year old who just wants to look at the pretty pictures. Or, we could turn our attention to the dream, which manages to squeeze the entire plot of the series into a single-page insomnia cure. But no, ladies and gents, we will discuss none of those things. One, because they all suck. And two, because none of them represent the real problem with this overhyped pile of crap.

Stephenie Meyer wrote a bad book and got rich. Good for her- and I say that with total sincerity. I'd never resent anyone for providing a great living for their children (and several generations after, based on her book sales & movie rights). This though… this is more than bad. Its dangerous. I've been in love and I've been infatuated. It took years and lots of pain before I figured out the difference. SM is older than I am. She is a wife and a mother. And she's written a book about a seventeen-year old girl risking her life for an infatuation. I… I don't like where this is going, folks. I don't like the message, the moral compass or the intellectual process underlying it. I really don't like that this story is based on Romeo and Juliet.

That play, for anyone who has bothered to give it the time and attention it deserves, is not a romance. Its a story about idiotic, hormonal kids giving up everything to be together. Guess what, they die. Badly. Uselessly. And now Stephanie Meyer has re-written it for the 21st century. This chapter is the choice, the first rumble of fate avalanching into the abyss. And SM thinks its ok. I can almost hear her applauding as Bella mopes about not being able to sit with a GODDAMN VAMPIRE. Love is terrifying in so many ways, but its isn't dangerous. Go read Shakespeare and be warned.

Twilight, 6

In which, to my endless astonishment, I don't hate everything.

Plot: Bella looks out her window and sees her truck safely returned, presumably by the mysterious Alice (who I am very not looking forward to meeting). She goes to school, and finds the good weather sufficiently inspiring that she mopes about Edward being away with his brother. I try to decide if she needs a slap or a hug. Possibly both… The next day, Bella joins the eager puppy (Mike) and several others on a trip to the beach. After some wandering, during which SM trys and fails to write proper descriptions of what I'm sure is a stunning landscape, Bella meets a native kid, Jacob, and hilariously flirts him into telling tribal stories. Jacob mentions that his tribe is supposedly descended from wolves (that sound you hear is foreshadowing putting a dent in the floor), and that they are the enemies of the blood-drinking "Cold Ones." Bella and Jake decide to be friends. I nod approvingly.

Mildly Rantish Thoughts: This is, by far, the best chapter of Twilight I've read. That fact does not, for reasons I'll get to a bit later, make me optimistic for the book or series as a whole, but I'll give credit where its due. So, why is it good? First, the pacing is excellent. Things happen, quickly and dynamically, and in such a way that I feel I've gotten to know the world and the characters better as a result. This, if anyone was wondering, is the function of plot in books that might accurately be called "literature." Second, Jacob is already my favorite character in the novel. He is awkward, intelligent, warm, funny, and a bit of a showoff. A fairly normal teenage guy, in other words. He has a genuine and distinct personality, and speaks in a unique voice. That, ladies and gents, is what a real character looks like. Especially one that is not shoehorned into the plot, but is allowed to breathe a little and act like a human being. Third, Bella and Jacob have a conversation. They do not declaim at each other, but speak in a way that I can buy as the first meeting between two teenagers experiencing some mild mutual attraction. Fourth, and this is the reason the chapter does not fill me with optimism for the rest of the book, Edward Cullen is not in it.

Stephenie Meyer is telling a very specific story here, the story of how Edward and Bella get all happily-ever-after. That fact should be obvious to everyone who's made it this far, assuming you all read English and possess a functioning frontal cortex. It's inevitable. And it's sucking the life out of the book. See, good novels depend on tension. The protagonist establishes a goal early on, and the plot comes from his/her attempt to achieve the goal.  I've read six chapters of the first book in a long series, and there isn't a doubt in my skull that Bella will get what she wants. Sure, other authors (GRRM most notably and brutally) will tease sucess as a way to set up a sucker-punch, but this aint that kind of rodeo. All of which is a very long-winded way of saying: The main plot of the book, the "romance" between Bella and Edward, is boring and pointless. All I'm looking at is a very long journey towards something I already know is going to happen. This is why the best chapter of the book, tonights, is also the first that's related only tangentially to the main plot.

There is hope for Stephenie Meyer as an author, but I don't think this is going to be the book that fulfills it. And that, as they say, is that. Goodnight everybody, we'll talk tomorrow. Peace.

Twilight, Chapter 5

… In which the romance of the (decade? century? all eternity?) begins its inevitable fizzle into lukewarm declarations of poorly-written passion. Or something. Lets rock.

Plot: Two chicks and a vampire walk into a cafeteria… No, really. That's what happens. I'm not making it up, promise. Basically, Bella walks into lunch and sees Edward sitting alone. He crooks a single alabaster finger, and they have a conversation I thought about recapping before realizing that I have better things to do with my life. Self-administered root canal, for example. Short version: Edward says they shouldn't be friends, Bella trembles with longing, Edward says they should be friends, Bella trembles with delight. Our fearless heroine goes to bio, nearly passes out at the sight of what is quite possibly the worst shoehorning of a plot-device I've ever seen (meaning blood), and goes outside to be rescued by her marble-skinned knight. He carries her to the nurse, charms that singularly spineless example of the medical industry into excusing Bella from class, and then insists on driving Bella home. Actually, he drags her to the car and threatens to more-or-less kidnap her home if she doesn't accept his help (more on this in a moment). Bella talks about her mother. Edward drops her at home. She slams the door and tries to stalk angrily away. And fails. Finis.

Rant: In On Writing, Stephen King spends a section discussing, with more detail and eloquence than I'll ever be able to use, exactly why the use of adverbs as dialogue qualifiers is a strong marker of bad writing. Essentially, anything in quotations should be followed by "said," the name/identifier of the speaker, and nothing else. Words that end in -ly (gruffly, warningly, menacingly, patiently, longingly) weaken prose and reveal that the author lacks confidence in her own ability to convey information/character/plot through the dialogue itself. In the same way, use of dialogue verbs other than "said" shows that the author does not trust her audience to get what they need from the dialogue, thus necessitating the addition of another verb (ex. warned, reminded, retorted, jeered, mocked, challenged etc) to convey more information. I mention this because I believe, and have for a long time, that great dialogue is the vital pulse of great writing. Stephanie Meyers' dialogue is pure deadweight. Part of this is her inability to write convincing characters, but mostly it is general incompetence as an author. Look through chapter 5 of Twilight, and find one single instance of speech ending with "Edward said." Go ahead, I'll wait.

Now, about the plot…. Ladies, if a guy ever tries to forcibly drag you into a car, scream as loud as you can, knee him in the crotch, then run far and fast. Gentlemen, I'm sure none of you have read this book anyways, but suffice it to say that acting like Edward Cullen will not get you a girlfriend. It may get you arrested. Seriously, this is what passes for romance now? I'm all for chivalry, for men opening doors and offering a supporting arm when girls have been rendered hilariously helpless by a drop of blood, but this entire thing is absurd. It's a fantasy, a modern respinning of the knight-in-shining-armor mystique (crossed with an inept Romeo and Juliet retelling) that robs Bella of anything resembling agency in determining her own fate. As I said, I don't have a problem with gender roles to a certain degree, but the fact remains that a real relationship is a meeting between equals and this is anything but. I find the entire thing more than slightly disturbing, and from what I know of the plot we're just getting started. So yeah, I'm going to be getting angry in this space pretty often for the next few months. Should be fun. See you tomorrow, boys and girls.

Its sumertiiiiiiiiiime

and livin aint as easy as it should be. Regularly scheduled coverage of all things crappy-teen-lit will resume tomorrow. For now, here's something to tide everyone over. Peace.



http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pYPoqPBp1n8&feature=relmfu

Twilight, chapter 4

Another day, another dollar, another chapter full of moping teenagers. Why are they moping? Lets find out…

Plot: Bella dreams of Edward, walking away and leaving her alone. Holy Mother of overwrought symbolism, Batman. BTW, this chapter apparently covers an entire month. It feels like three years. But I digress. Bella, post almost truck-squishing, becomes even more inexplicably popular. Seriously, these kids need to get out more. Edward ignores her in class. A girl whose name I haven't bothered remembering asks Bella's permission to take Mike to some kind of dance shindig. Edward tells Bella its better if they aren't friends. The entire school lines up to ask Bella to the aforementioned dance. I treat a bottle of tylenol like a pez dispenser. Bella decides to go to Seattle instead of the dance. Seems excessive…. Edward, whose hearing is apparently reaaaaaaly good, asks if she wants a ride. She nods, dumbstruck by the full gloriousness of his beauty. I open WebMD and search "bipolar disorder." Finis.

Rant: Really? Stephenie Meyer, listen carefully. People are not plot devices. Edward, for whatever reason, doesn't want to be friends with Bella. I'll buy that, since I wouldn't want to be friends with someone that miserable either. And, as a character choice, it works. We already know this is a love story. Him falling for her, after struggling desperately not to, is a strong dramatic arc, and will make the eventual payoff all the better. Yes, its been done, but the whole vampirism aspect is enough of a twist that I'd be willing to overlook the recycled plotline. This, though, isn't a struggle. There is no dawning affection, gradual breaking down of the insurmountable barriers seperating the two leads. SM has decided its time for them to get close, and so they get close. These aren't characters, believable people with personalities and hopes and desires and fears. They are chess pieces sliding on a board.

I don't mind a little deux-ex-machina in my literature. JK Rowling, for example, changes the rules of her own world every six pages, usually as a way to ratchet dramatic tension. And it works, in large part because she never screws with the personalities of the characters we've come to love. Twilight is… I don't even know. Wish fulfilment, maybe? But no, that isn't it either. Wish fulfillment usually involves happiness of some kind. And these characters are all miserable. There is no humor, no light or laughter or joy. Just rain and fear and desperation. Maybe its just me, but I like to think there's more to life than that.

Twilight, Chapter 3

Hi kids, and welcome back to your regularly scheduled blogging. Took a holiday break yesterday, but the hangover wore off and I'm ready to blog the hell out of Twilight for your reading pleasure. On second thoughts, drinking might make this thing go down easier. Excuse me a second…

Plot: Bella wakes up, eats breakfast, sees that it snowed overnight. I try to figure out the meteorological implications of the snowstorm, and give up when the words "Mayan Apocalypse" start showing up over and over. Bella drives to school, and is touched that Charlie put snowchains on her truck. Chains? Really? I open Stephenie Meyer's website and try to figure out if she's ever seen snow. In the parking lot, Bella is nearly pancaked by a skidding van. Edward goes supersonic to her side and blocks the van with one hand, never once losing the awesomeness of his coif. I contemplate Newton's laws, which S.M. has clearly never done. Bella is transported to the hospital, and meets Edward's father. Charlie makes angry noises. Edward refuses to tell her how he did it, while making it completely clear that he did something, instead of denying everything like anyone with a brain would logically do.

Rant: I want to love this chapter, so badly. Done right, this is the grade-A solid gold money-in-the-bank  big reveal. This, unfortunately, is pretty much the opposite of doing it right. First, it falls waaaaaay too early in the book. We have no sense of who Edward is as a character, so the idea that he's been hiding something is basically pointless. No emotional investment= me not giving a damn. Second, SM has foreshadowed the Vampirism so awkwardly that it doesn't feel like a surprise. She's been hammering us over the head that Edward is inhuman (beauty-wise mostly), and now goes ahead and tells us he isn't human. Try to contain your astonishment.

Most of all though, I have no clue why Edward would act as he does at the end of the chapter. He sees Bella about to die, and being a fundamentally good person intervenes to save her. Fine. Why not use his own cover story, convince Bella she got clobbered and saw things, and get on with his life? His denial is so hilariously designed to keep Bella interested that he might as well carve "I am not human" into his exquisitely alabaster forehead. I hate idiot plots.

Also, the dialogue all sucks. The mark of great dialogue is that it reveals character without needlessly recapping the plot. See the "Royale with cheese" sequence in Pulp Fiction for a justly famous example. Plus, the absurd fetishizing of physical beauty at the expense of minor details like integrity, honesty, personality, and compassion continues apace. So yeah, that's more than slightly disturbing.

Twilight, Chapter 2

Why do I do these things? Commit in writing to massive, painful projects which will undoubtedly consume my life through the sheer force of their boringitude? Ah well, question for another day. Onwards!

Plot: Bella goes home from school, moping as she tries to figure out what's wrong with her. I make sympathetic noises. She buys groceries, starts dinner, emails her mother. I make bored noises. She goes to school. Edward Cullen is gone. She thinks it must be her fault, then mopes about being so irrational. I consult the OED and spend several minutes contemplating all possible meanings of the word "depression." Eventually, Edward comes back. He looks healthier. He and Bella meet-cute doing a lab project. I youtube "grass growing" for background excitement. Bella tells her life story, then mopes about spilling to a complete stranger. While leaving the parkinglot, she almost backs into a car. Edward laughs. Finis.

Rant: I once dated a girl who got offered a modeling contract at the age of fifteen. She was, as the great sage Zoolander put it, really ridiculously good looking. The relationship lasted about four weeks, by which time I'd realised that she was an awful person who I never wanted to speak with, ever again. Point being, just because someone has nice bonestructure doesn't make them a good or even worthwhile companion. Now, teenagers (and even 23 year olds like me) frequently think with their hormones and ask questions later. I'm not saying this is a bad thing, btw. Some of the best nights of my life have started with exactly that line of thinking. My problem is that Twilight already seems to be fetishizing Edward based solely on his appearance. Put differently, he's awesome because he's hot. That's… not a good way to judge people.

In fact, all of the characters are so one dimensional they might as well be printed. Mike is an eager puppy, Charlie is awkward, Bella has the self-esteem of fresh roadkill. The Cullens are beautiful.  Its early days, so perhaps we'll see things like depth and complex motivations later on but… No, let's be real, probably not. How many chapters do I have left again?

Other thoughts… First, this entire chapter is Ambien-overdose levels of soporific. Wordy and flaccid and terribly paced. Great authors, the ones who write real characters with interesting worldviews, can make internal monolgue thoroughly awesome. Stephenie Meyer is the other kind. Bella is so meek, its kind of stunning that anything actually happens to her. I found myself getting semi-interested when she contemplated demanding Edward explain his behaviour, but then it never happened and things got boring again. Great characters, almost invariably, shape the world around them. This crap reads like a highschooler's rolodex. Things happened, duly noted. Now for the love of God please do something about it.

Twilight, Chapter 1...

… and prologue, if that counts. So yeah, I'm still doing this. Reading every word on every page of every book, followed by one of my signature written rants about how much it all sucks. Except that, to my immense surprise, the first chapter of Twilight isn't as awful as I remembered. Its not great, or even especially compelling, but weirdly tolerable all the same.

Plot: There is a prologue. The narrator is about to die. She's cool with it. Something good happened that lets her go peacefully. Prolgue ends, first chapter starts, and we meet the immortal Bella Swan. She whines. About everything. I contemplate slapping her for whining. She voluntarily exiles herself to Forks, Washington. Where it rains. A lot. We meet her father, Chief of Police Charlie Swan. He has bought her an old pickup truck as a homecoming gift. Bella whines more. She goes to school. Mopes about not fitting in. Sees the Cullen family in the cafeteria. Is astonished at their sheer gorgeousness. Edward Cullen is in her Biology class, and seems to hate her. He tries to switch sections. Fails. Bella whines about his irrational dislike. Goes home, trying not to cry. Finis.

Rant: Lets get this out of the way up front: Stephenie Meyer is an incompetent writer. Truly, deeply, and possibly irredeemably crappy. I'm willing to be patient, because this is the first chapter of her first published book, but Good God. Telling instead of showing, constant dialogue attribution, adverbs every third word… its like she was given "The Elements of Style" as a Christmas gift, but instead of reading she burned it and took a crap on the ashes. I'll doubtless have more to say about this in the weeks and months ahead, but suffice it to say that William Gibson she aint.

The plot is…meh. Derivative, and the shoddy presentation doesn't help, but the archetypes she's using are enduring for a reason. We all love outsiders, believing that the ugly duckling can morph into a beautiful Swan (get it?) and win the prince. I guess this, more than anything, is the reason I didn't actively despise the chapter. Bella is shown here as a truly, existentially depressed human being. Yes, her problems are more mild inconvenience than torture, but part of being a teenager is learning that the little everyday pains mean nothing in determining one's lifelong happiness. And really, she doesn't seem like a bad kid. The interaction with her father is stiffly written, but its also clumsy and sweet and genuinely human. Weird as it might sound, I want this girl to do well.

The part with the (spoiler alert!) vampire family is pure plot device at this point. They aren't characters yet, so we'll leave discussion of them for another day. I have to say though, I like the possibilities of putting vampires in highschool. Bram Stoker's Dracula is a powerfully sexual, carnal creature. Hormonal teenagers thinking about penetration all the time…. Well, hopefully I don't have to draw anyone a map. Good night, interwebs. Chapter 2 tomorrow.

Announcing a New Series….

I hate hypocrites. People who say one thing and do another, who spit accusations without ever taking a hard look at themselves. And recently, I realized that I'd become one. I trash-talked a book (actually an entire series) that I've never read. Silver lining: I've been trying to decide on this blog's raison d'etre, the defining project that would give it a goal and focus. So, ladies and gents, I'm happy to announce that I will read and blog the entire Twilight series, chapter by chapter, start to finish.

I'm aware that this has already been done, and done brilliantly, in other corners of the interwebs. Go to Sparknotes, and read Dan Bergsten's work if you don't believe me. What makes me different? Well, I'm a huge sf/f nerd. I've read and reread GOT, WOT, Dune, the collected works of Neal Stephenson, and Alastair Reynolds more times than I care to count. I'll tell anyone who cares to listen that William Gibson is the most influential author of the last three decades (and my personal favorite). Obvioously, I'm inclined to enjoy a heavy dose of the supernatural in my literature. I also don't discriminate against books becasue they're supposedly written for a YA audience. I discovered The Hunger Games and His Dark Materials in my twenties, and loved both. All of which is to say that I think I can give Twilight a fair shake, as books and as cultural phenomena.

And that is going to be my main interest here. If I have a primary intellectual angle, its in the area of what is called "cultural criticism." Simply put, I'm fascinated by the way that books, movies, television and music reflect and shape the culture which they produce or are produced by. I can't say yet whether I love Twilight, hate it, or fall somewhere in the middle, but I do respect its cultural impact. I'm going to go in to this with as open a mind as I can, and we'll talk along the way. First post goes up tomorrow, and let the 74th annual… (sorry, couldn't resist."

On Interviews...

Interviews last approximately five seconds. The bad ones, that is. Fail the first impression, that vital moment of contact between a door opening and your ass hitting a chair, and you might as well apologize for wasting the interviewer's time, get up and leave. Fortunately, this is not difficult. What people fail to realize is that the process begins before you enter the building. 

No one expects students to be wearing thousand-dollar suits. In fact, even if you happen to be part of the 1% and have access to such things, I'd recommend leaving them at home. What we're going for here is the opposite of entitlement. Standard interviewing uniform consisits of khakis, blue blazer, blue or white shirt, red tie. You, however, are not standard. Wear grey slacks, the darker the better. Go for a shirt with some color, like yellow or pink. Demonstrate that you're willing and able to make yourself impeccable, but without the loss of personality that usually entails. Long hair and beards are ok, as long as they're visibly groomed. Kids are kids, and reasonable adults will usually make allowances.

When you arrive at the building, treat every single person you encounter as if they have the power to hire you. Be polite to the lobby receptionist, the security guard, and for the love of God be nice to the interviewer's assistant. Some companies, these days, place cameras in their reception areas to watch you squirm. So don't. Sing songs in your head, breathe slow and deep, take a seat if offered. You should be wearing a watch, to demonstrate your commitment to punctuality, but don't look at it under any circumstances. Also, as long as you are in the building, your cellphone does not exist. Do not make a call, send a text, or play angry birds while you wait. Doing so makes you look like a petulant child deserving a place at the kiddie table. 

Sad but true: most of my generation (I'm 23) is incapable of conducting a conversation with humans of the non-pixelated variety. The people you meet will have low expectations. And that means an opportunity. When you meet the interviewer, shake hands firmly, smile big, and say what a pleasure it is to meet them (you dont have to mean it). Once you're face to face, the interview has begun, so be careful of what you say. Remind him of who you are, of your career goals and passions and unique qualifications.  Listen well, and respond to what he says. Be detailed. You will, of course, have researched everything about the company beforehand, so mention a recent piece of activity and ask how it serves as an example of the firm as a whole. While he speaks, nod and respond in appropriate places. Ask followup questions. Fun fact: successful people like talking about their successes. Use that. 

At the end of the conversation, ask the questions you've prepared ahead of time. My personal favorite: "What is the biggest challenge someone in this role would face?" When the conversation is over, let it be over. Don't waste anyone's time. Its appropriate to ask when and how they'd like to be in touch. Use the answer to decide when you'll be sending a followup email. Offer your profuse thanks, ask for a business card if they haven't offered one already, and get out. Wish everyone you see a good day. Game over. 

The Real Social Network...

I have a friend who worries constantly over his lack of charm. When he first told me this I looked at him like he'd said his skin turned purple in sunlight. My friend recently became engaged to a woman who looks like a bikini model's younger, hotter sister. He isn't the most gregarious person I know, but is sufficiently respected by his peers that I once saw the host of a frat party shut off music so people could listen to him speak. This is not a man whose social life is in need of assistance. Of course, he wasn't talking about charming classmates. He was talking about networking.

Meeting people is a science, and like all sciences your skill improves with practice and study. First, understand that coldcalling is brutally difficult and rarely if ever works. Anyone in position to hire at a given company sees and dismisses a dozen resumes each day. In that situation you have somewhere between ten and thirty seconds to make yourself memorable, and you won't even be in the room. So don't do it. Stop resume-spamming, and focus on putting a plan into action.

To do this you need a goal. Figure out the job you want before shaking a single hand. Be as specific as possible. Deciding "I want to be in finance" will get you nowhere. Deciding that "I want to be a market analyst focusing on low-risk mutual funds" still might not get you anywhere, but its a start. Why be specific? Because when talking to powerful people the single greatest sin is wasting their time. Prove that you've done the research, that you have a plan for your life and you're going to make it whether they help or not. Alphas like to help other alphas, especially if their only issue is the need for a little guidance. Betas get nothing.

Understand that everyone has connections. The adults in your life have dayjobs (shocker I know). Find out what those are. Your college has a career placement office and (much more importantly) an alumni network.  Identify 2-4 people in your chosen industry, and politely ask for a few minutes of their time. Prepare a template introductory email, and customize it for each attempted connection. Say who you are, what you want to do, and why you've chosen to contact them specifically. The entire thing should be five sentences, tops. Again, be confident. Networking, when you're starting out, is about making yourself into someone that others want to speak with. If you don't believe it, they never will.

Right, I think that covers step 1 adequately. Next up, we discuss the art of the interview…