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
Saturday, September 8, 2012
Friday, September 7, 2012
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?
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?
Sunday, September 2, 2012
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.
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.
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