In Which I Had a Month-Long Lapse of Judgment

At the beginning of October, I allowed myself to be goaded into a reading race. Sounds like fun, right? Reading and athletics should go hand in hand more often, right? Wrong. It wasn’t fun. I lost for the same reason that I always lose at Scrabble: I wasn’t willing to play dirty. And my conscience-less opponent was. Which is why this same, heartless, unfeeling man also always wins at Scrabble. However, my boyfriend’s competition ethic is neither here nor there. Maybe that’s best saved for another post. (And then again, if I want to stay in the relationship, maybe not!)

As it were, the book we raced to the end of (against both our better judgment) was that unfortunate pillar of young adult fiction, pride of bored housewives, propaganda of (and for) teenage girls, and paragon of poor prose. Yes, you’ve guessed it. Stephenie Meyer’s Twilight. And, rather than go into the details of how it happened that I spent the rest of October reading through the other three books in the series (rest assured in the knowledge that this was a solo endeavor; thankfully, the boyfriend stopped after his cheap victory with the first book), I will just skip to the part where I tell you how far I will go (I’m thinking the ends of the earth) to keep this particular set of books out of my daughter’s hands, should I ever find myself to be the mother of a teenage or pre-adolescent girl.

So let’s start with why I hate Bella, the pathetic (not to be confused with tragic or romantic) heroine. To name a few reasons, she’s self-deprecating, co-dependent, obsessive, a wallower and self-pitier, and completely devoid of self-respect. Someone ought to explain to Ms. Meyer that there’s a rather significant difference between self-loathing and humility. Bella is not humble. Bella is merely a sycophantic, relentless self-denier, and the charade gets old fast. Bella spends the entire first book alternating between hating herself, hating small-town life, and drooling embarrassingly over Edward and his beautiful, perfect body. How I was able to pull a single thread of plot out of the tangle of obsessive yarn that is the first book of the series, I don’t know. (And, if I might linger here a moment longer, since when are a deathly pallor, dark circles under the eyes, an ice-cold touch, and skin so hard “it was like cuddling with Michelangelo’s David” the marks of an attractive man? Oh, right. Since never.)

However, I’m torn as to whether it was the first or second book that was the worst, in a literary sense. It is in the second book that we get to know Jacob (the shape-shifting wolf) a little better, and, though ridiculously immature, he is likable at first. But then Edward comes back (wait – he left? yes; he leaves, on purpose, claiming he doesn’t love Bella, never has, and will never return; this, of course, sends Bella spiraling into a six-to-nine-month-long depression that Jacob sort of helps her emerge from but not really). Where were we? Oh, yes. Edward returns, and Jacob morphs into a character I had trouble liking through the remainder of the series. He whines (literally, since he’s a wolf, at times; but also figuratively, in the teenage-boy-doesn’t-get-what-he-wants way); he’s a sore loser; he tricks Bella into kissing him (which, in my book, is certified cheating), even after she declares her unwavering, undying love for Edward; he uses threat of his mortality to persuade Bella to tell him she loves him; when Edward manages to retain Bella’s fickle-seeming loyalty (though it’s unclear why he still wants it, other than that whole your-blood-smells-better-to-me-than-anyone-else’s-and-I-can-barely-keep-myself-from-sucking-you-dry-and-killing-you thing; however, that does seem more an issue of free will [or lack thereof] than of love) and it looks like Jacob won’t get his way after all, Jacob resorts to juvenile name-calling, referring to the vampires as bloodsuckers and leeches; and finally, he falls irrevocably in love with Bella and Edward’s daughter on the day she is born, which, considering the fact that he’s seventeen (and she’s less than a full day old), is incredibly disgusting and creepy.

If I must be forced to choose a team, I suppose I’d align myself with Team Edward, though he’s not without his faults too. He’s annoyingly melodramatic, jealous, possessive, and territorial of Bella, treating her as a possession rather than a person to love. He does well at hiding his irrational emotions some of the time, but in an intimate tent scene with Jacob, the reader finds out that all these emotions have boiled just below the surface the entire time. Edward makes feeble attempts at proving he loves Bella, claiming he wants to marry her before he’ll have sex with her and that she deserves to live as much of a human life as possible before he turns her into a vampire (and yet, he still does turn her into a vampire). He does stick to his guns about the marriage and sexual purity issue but only because Stephenie Meyer clearly had an alternate agenda and less than subtle message for the Mormon youth of America.

While we’re on that subject, we might as well segue into why I hate Stephenie Meyer (not as a person; just as an author). First of all, and arguably most important, at least from a literary standpoint, there are no characters I can root for. By the end of the third book, when people asked what team I was on, I replied with, “Team Nobody. Team I-hope-someone-slips-up-and-accidentally-devours-Bella.” I knew Bella wouldn’t die, but still, I have never hoped more for the death of a main character (except, perhaps, in Book 7 of Harry Potter, although that was for an entirely different reason; that was a hope to see J.K. Rowling be brave and shock her audience; a hope to see how well she could spin the narrative if she killed off the wonder wizard everyone loved best; a hope for her to make me cry really hard; in Bella’s case, I was just sick of her).

Second, Meyer paints Bella as the clear heroine of the series, and no matter what I say to dissuade them, teenage girls are going to love Bella, admire her, envy her, and imitate her. I cannot forgive Meyer, therefore, for essentially championing unhealthy, isolated, co-dependent relationships as not only normal but right. Ms. Meyer is doing the same (though a far more egregious) disservice to the current generation that the beloved Jane Austen did to the women of my generation (and beyond). My peers are either still searching for their perfect Mr. Darcy, or they are chastising their settled-upon mates for not being more like Mr. Darcy. It would behoove the entire female race to remember that just because a couple ends up together does not mean a) that their relationship is good or healthy or b) that they should be together. I’d also like to remind anyone reading this that Mr. Darcy is kind of a DB. He ridicules and insults Elizabeth repeatedly before finally (and somewhat begrudgingly, if I remember correctly) admitting that he loves her. Maybe it’s just me, but I am not a fan of hard-won love. Not that I think love or relationships are or should be easy, but chasing after a guy who treats you like garbage? Come on. At least have the dignity to admit you deserve better than that.

Back to the Twilight series: At one point, Charlie (Bella’s dad) does try to talk some sense into Bella and convince her to spend time with people other than Edward. I could laud Meyer for using such a reasonable argument and at least pretending like this is sage advice; however, it comes from Bella’s bumbling, knows-nothing-about-women-or-raising-children chief-of-police, completely out of touch father, and the reader is led to feel as if he’s being ridiculous and Bella is doing nothing wrong. So that’s a pretty big fail on Meyer’s part. She gave herself a gleaming opportunity that she then proceeded to blatantly ignore. (How can anyone respect an author who does this?)

Third, as I mentioned earlier, her message on the importance of abstinence before marriage is nothing if not screamingly clear. No reading between the lines necessary here, as Meyer appears to have a lot to learn about the art of subtlety. She goes to such lengths to harp on the idea that a couple must be married before sexual interaction can take place that the message becomes more about the legality, the piece of paper, the letter of the law, than it is about the spirit behind the covenant of marital commitment. Which is preposterous because Bella is ready to commit to Edward for eternity – and, in these books, when they say eternity, they mean it, since most of them (and finally Bella too, in the last book) are immortal. So it’s ludicrous and completely inconsistent with her character that Bella is willing to make such a hefty promise but is so adamantly opposed to an official wedding and the idea of actual matrimony.

I understand that Stephenie Meyer either received pressure from Mormon circles about the importance of stressing pre-marital abstinence or perhaps feels strongly about the issue herself. However, she went a little overboard here, to the point of disbelief (at least, for me). For the sake of the story and character consistency, how bad would it have been to just let Bella consent to be turned into a vampire (heck, even make a ceremony out of it, for all I care!) and let that stand as the symbolic significance of marriage? After all, if she’s willing to pledge herself to Edward for the entirety of forever, doesn’t that seem to send the same message – a stronger one, even? I’m disappointed that Meyer let her obsession with legalism cloud her literary discernment.

One brief comment on Meyer’s technical skill. I’m making this brief in part because it pains me to mention it (but of course, you knew I would; my profession bounds me to it) but also because there is an entire blog dedicated to chastising her errors adequately and plenty humorously. I suppose that if I could only choose one grammatical issue to plead with Stephenie Meyer to take some sort of class on or get some rudimentary or one-on-one tutelage for, it would be commas. Oh, the commas. I have never seen so many poorly placed commas in all my life, and that’s saying something because I was a writing tutor in college. By the time I was halfway through the series, I could feel my own commalating tendencies declining (yes, commalating is a word of my creation; no, you may not use it), and I’ve had to fight extra hard to be sure I remained at the top of my punctuational game these last few weeks as a result of the osmosis-induced poor-grammar plague threatening to do me in.

Having reached the end of my short but torturous journey through the Twilight series, I will say (as atheists do about their reasons for reading the Bible) that I’m glad I made the trip, for now I am at least adequately prepared to argue against it point by painstaking point. However, I must also assert that I would never, ever recommend this particular series to anyone but the most stalwart and healthy lovers of literature (and then, only for the same reasons I read it – to arm yourself with the knowledge necessary for battle against it). Weak-willed readers, those who are less well read, and the under informed are not advised to read these books. You are not strong enough to stand against Meyer and her attack on good literature* (as is evident by the fact that these books were all bestsellers – proof alone that the world is more full of morons than anything else and also that mob mentality works).

If you want to spend your time in a series and you’re adamant on reading young adult fiction and you’ve read the entire Harry Potter canon seven times over, I recommend The Hunger Games trilogy. You won’t be sorry. If you’ve already discovered and devoured Suzanne Collins’s wonderful three-part narrative about Katniss and her struggle against the ever menacing Capitol, start over and read them again. Or go for an eighth round on Harry Potter. Your time will still be better spent than it would be with Twilight. That is a guarantee.

*Those who recognized the (very) loose allusion to Hebrews 5:12-14, I commend you.
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31 Comments

Filed under bloggy, books, irreverent, reviews

31 responses to “In Which I Had a Month-Long Lapse of Judgment

  1. A couple of years ago, I finally broke down and read Twilight just to see what all the fuss was about and to see if it was really as fabulous as people claimed. Sadly, I then ended up reading the rest of the series just to see if it could possibly get better, or if all of the other books were as bad as the first.

    You have voiced many of the things I thought and felt as I read the Twilight saga, and to that I say bravo. :-) It is good to know I am not alone in my distaste for Stephenie Meyer’s work.

  2. I agree with you on so many points that I’m just going to say, “thank you.” As the father of a baby girl, I am already plotting how I’m going to have “the talk” with her. (The talk = why she should read nearly anything BUT Twilight) I figure I’ll just have her read your blog someday. How about that for good parenting?

    • Michael,

      Wow! What a glowing compliment, thanks so much! I hope that by the time your baby girl reaches adolescence, the *Twilight* series will be long forgotten, merely an embarrassing black speck in literary history, and nothing close to the rage it is today!

      • I hope for that, as well.

        Also, I’ve been following your blog for some time, and just realized you’re the same Audra I corresponded with about Faith and Film. Ha! Small world.

        • Michael,

          Yep, one and the same. Thanks for keeping up with my blog, and thanks for commenting to let me know as much! I’m curious how you found it, but if there’s a Nazarene connection, then we probably have a mutual friend who directed you here at some point?

          • Well, to be honest, I’m not quite sure how I came to find your blog. It’s possible I found it through the house studio? I feel like I remember you doing a guest blog, or something. Maybe they linked to here. I don’t remember for sure, though. Could that be possible?

            If that’s not the connection, then I’m stumped.

  3. JJC

    This is great. We do not talk about Twilight in this house – the kids know we think it is crap and are tired of us railing on it. Nick watched the first movie and I have neither read nor watched anything other than previews. But the plot line and characters are so flat and so predictable I haven’t needed to. Everything I thought about the series based on watching the previews is confirmed in what you say here. … minus Meyer’s inability to use a comma correctly – that I did not know – but I am not equipped to judge there as I am a flagrant abuser of commas. I’ve actually given up on commas and just use dashes.

    The one thing I will say is I disagree with your characterization of Elizabeth Bennet and Mr. Darcy’s relationship. She did not chase him. She loathed him. She found him pretentious. And when he was rude to her – she stood up for herself. She did not seek his affections. It was not until he silently loved her, made many efforts for her family, saved her disgraced sister that she realized he was a good man and her affections changed. Ms. Bennet is presented as everything Bella is not. She is strong-willed, independent, rational, kind, selfless, and strong. She challenged the norms of society by being such, by speaking up, by having a quick wit. She and Mr. Darcy did not like each other because they are both proud stubborn asses. She did not fain for him. He was torn, he admired her but thought her precocious and under his status in society – which in England was a very big deal. Class is a huge deal in England. But he in turn challenged society by loving her and marrying her even though she is from a lower class because he loved her for who she was – as a person. Elizabeth comes to love him – not because he has a hard body but because he is a noble man with a good heart. I think it does say something about being easy on the eyes – but that is hardly the focus.

    Maybe you should re-read Pride and Prejudice again – I would like to see your take on Ms. Bennet and Mr. Darcy then. Ms. Austen challenged society, gave and gives women strong female heroines that are worthy of adulation not credulity. Based on what you’ve said here – and (I say this lovingly) your mismatched comparison – I think it would be worth it for you to give it another read. Yes – you should find Mr. Darcy pretentious at first – but he develops. He is a round character – as is Ms. Bennet who practices self-reflection and critique – not as to how she looks – but as to her character. Dang – maybe I’ll reread it again. It really is one of the best books. Put it in context – Ms. Austen was making bold social commentary, challenging the norms and giving women of then and now someone to look up to – someone you’d want your daughter to look up to. Ms. Bennet is modest, yet bold, she does not need a man, she stays true to herself and her family. Okay – I will stop here.

    But seriously – about Twilight – maybe you could burn those books? use them as kitty litter? ???

    • Jessica,

      You make a lot of good points about Elizabeth, and I completely agree with you. Which is why I never explicitly touched on Elizabeth or her actions. I *love* Elizabeth for how she reacts and responds to Mr. Darcy, and I agree that Darcy is a well-rounded character who grows up and sees sense in the end. My criticism is more with the women I know who are looking for someone who is rich, intelligent, and a complete jackass (pre-climax Darcy, essentially). I am criticizing women and the interpretations they’ve taken from P&P more than I am criticizing Austen herself, and I’m certainly not criticizing Elizabeth. Perhaps that wasn’t clear, sorry.

      And as far as you not knowing how to use a comma correctly, just promise me you won’t get anything professionally published without using an editor first. :)

      Thanks for the props on FB too, btw!

      • JJC

        Okay – yeah – I guess I took it the wrong way. We used to have these huge discussions at SNU about the girls there – there were a group of guys that had a serious problem with some of the girls – it was as such: These women are average. They have no purpose or goal beyond finding someone else to circle their life around. They are not interesting or talented. These women are self-involved but only concerned about the surface. (meaning if they were self-involved but deep it would be more interesting) But these women – who are average in almost all ways want the perfect man. They want a successful, interesting, talented, preferably wealthy, loving, handsome man. It seems like the lesson women have learned and in its most positive light – what could be seen as a rebellion from Barbie – is that women should be able to be whoever they are. They don’t have to be perfect looking, a rockstar, super smart, athletic, or anything beyond who they are naturally – and they should be completely loved. I don’t think women have to strive to be Barbie. That’s boo shee. And women don’t have to spend their lives trying to do everything in the world at the same time. But – what I think has been lost is that we women – as people – need to strive to be the best we can be – to be our best selves. It seems that got lost somewhere in the interpretations. Men should overlook superficial differences, skin color, wealth etc. just as women should – and adore and love the beautiful person within. But if that person is selfish, vain, boring, lazy and not all that smart then yeah….. that person would be rightfully single.

    • b longfellow

      I had planned to offer a defense of Austen myself, but I see it’s been taken care of already, and much better than I could have done. I would only add that ALL of Austen’s novels contain some type of social critique, some characters whom we should aspire to imitate and some characters who are likely scorned by their creator. Even the plethora of marriages are mistakenly understood if taken strictly at face value. But yes, A.C., there are probably myriads who believe Austen would endorse pursuit of tall, dark and handsome a-holes.

      • LF, of course you’re right about Austen. I knew I would get into a sticky situation by using her as an example, and I also knew I should try harder to come up with another, more applicable example (or at least explain better, as I eventually had to do in my reply to Jessica, that I wasn’t criticizing Austen and that the Darcy I refer to is pre-denouement/pre-climax), but I was *so* tired and so ready to be finished with this post that I just let it ride. At least it’s encouraging to know that there are intelligent lovers of literature left out there who will burn me at the stake for any hint of blasphemy against stuff that is actually good. Thanks for the accountability, you two.

  4. b longfellow

    Excellent blog post. Entertaining, with fun word selection for the whole family. And exceptionally argued. I am utterly convinced of Meyers’ failure as a writer on multiple levels (and happily so).

    • Excellent, entertaining, exceptional. Do you intentionally mimic my alliteration in the early part of the post? Or are you just that awesome? (Crossing my fingers that it’s the latter; although, I’d be happy with either truth.) In any case, thank you. Your compliments puff up my ego too much, but I hope you keep them coming.

  5. Keef

    The most merciful thing in the world, I think, is the absence of knowledge of all things Stephenie Meyer and Twilight related. Ours is a world of ignorance, void of the literary terrors penned in the pages of the Twilight series. Once was I, blissfully unaware of the fragility of our human existence to the shallows of infinite stupidity; now upon learning of unspeakable horrors, my frail psyche can bear the endless vista of fatuity no more. Merely hearing of the travesty secondhand from this blog has driven me to the slicked precipice of insanity. I fear my own commalating tendencies have nearly sublimated and my mental state with it. Being not long for this world due to the events that my eyes have witnessed, I urge others not to follow a similar path.

    Kudos for finishing the Twilight series I suppose.

    • Hmm. Okay. Good luck with that suicide.

      • Keef

        The paragraph that I wrote was inspired by a horror book I recently finished and is an astonishingly funny analog to Twilight if you make a comparison between Meyer and the monster. It saddens me that no one recognizes the source, but is not surprising.

        Something has been nagging me for a couple of weeks. Why did you review the Twilight series as a normal piece of literature? I couldn’t quite pinpoint why this was bothering me or formulate the question until I listened to a podcast. In it, a female comedian gave a descriptive and humorous rundown of the psychology of a teen girl, herself, in the midst of puberty. She went on to read some short stories that she wrote while going through this metamorphosis, which included lots of verbs like “humped” and “Frenched”. The revelation she imparted was Twilight and books like it are basically pornography for women and teenage girls. There it is; it’s not literature. Just as men ogle unrealistic and unhealthy images of women in magazines, women fantasize about unrealistic and unhealthy descriptions of men in books.

        I doubt this would be as much a revelation to anyone else as it was to me. After all, everybody here that read Twilight picked up on the unhealthy relationship aspect. Now, the interesting thing is the mislabeling of the book. When you reviewed this book as a normal piece of literature, you lend credence to it being a piece of literature, but it’s just a type of porn. Then the question becomes: do you legitimize Stephenie Meyer’s work as literature simply by opposing it?

        • Keef,

          Are you willing to divulge which horror book you’re talking about? My only guess is *Frankenstein* (a fantastic one), so if that’s not it, then I’m at a loss. Sorry.

          The rest of your point is interesting, however. I don’t know that I purport to legitimize the work by reviewing it against standards of normal work. I think I simply responded to the crazy society has created around this series. If it’s going to be treated as legitimate, then I will review it using legitimate criteria. You’re right; no one would probably attempt to do a literary analysis against (certainly I hope not *for*) a piece of actual pornographic literature because, as you correctly imply, what would be the point? And does my review legitimize Meyer’s work simply because I used the same standards applied to worthwhile literature? Hmm. Perhaps. Perhaps not. But I can tell you that, either way, no matter what, this is an avalanche we cannot control, and my puny review is going to mean nothing in the grand scheme of the wealth and accolade Stephenie Meyer has received and will continue to receive for her work.

          One last comment. You (and whoever spoke on that podcast you listened to) are completely right. I think the classification of *emotional porn* is exactly perfect in describing the type of “literature” the Twilight series is. Thank you for articulating so well an idea I had not yet found the proper words for.

          • Keef

            Audra,

            Based on your previous reviews, I doubt you or this crowd would like the book. It forgoes focus on the characters for descriptions of grand cosmic terrors painted through the lens of human incomprehension and man’s insignificance in the universe. I would rather recommend a book where there is a chance you would read and enjoy it.

            “But I can tell you that, either way, no matter what, this is an avalanche we cannot control, and my puny review is going to mean nothing in the grand scheme of the wealth and accolade Stephenie Meyer has received and will continue to receive for her work.” No single rain drop believed it caused the flood. This wasn’t an indictment against you, but a question of what fuels the machine and why are the books so successful. If the series was ranked in the same category as trashy romance novels since penned, would it be as popular as it is today? I’m just wondering if this is a foe that needs to be fought, or a storm that simply needs to be weathered. In any case, that was one fat and sassy post.

            Again, I want to lobby for a guest blogger. BFLF should give a review of the book. Any grown man that reads Twilight, contest or not, needs to explain his actions. Revocation of a man card may be in order. Also, for future reference, the only way to win a contest of this sort is not to participate.

            • b longfellow

              Keef,
              I actually did review (this word is a bit of a stretch for what I wrote, I confess) this book on my Goodreads account, but my review consists mostly of a quoted text message:

              For review, I choose to plagiarize the most accurate synopsis I’ve been given so far: “50% of the text is how beautiful Edward is. 40% is Bella’s self-deprecation. 10% small-town bashing.” -girlfriend, via text message

              Plus or minus 5-7 percentage points depending on the spot in the novel, this is what any reader can expect.

              Here, I’ve deleted only the first sentence of my review, which I fear may be offensive as it contains the words “relatively painless.” I know it’s not much but I don’t have much else to say about it. If I were still teaching English at the secondary level, I’m sure I would have read Twilight much sooner.

              • Keef

                BFLF,

                I’m going to tell you what I was told the first time I had sex, “That was underwhelming and over way too fast.” Guess I can’t expect much from a Twilight reader. Actually, I wanted to know the motive behind the decision of you and the girlfriend to read the book and looking for some insight into a man that would think this was a good idea.

                • b longfellow

                  Ha! No, you certainly can’t expect much from this Twilight reader. I drink expensive beer but cheap wine. I usually can’t describe what I’ve just eaten. I sit in the upper deck at Kauffman Stadium. Don’t know what that has to do with anything except perhaps illustrate that I’m not picky about some things.

                  I love to read, but sometimes I’m afraid I love books themselves even more, authors and titles, old hard bound books with crumbly pages and new paperback ones that lay open, nice and flat and flexible. Sometimes I read just so I have more chances to converse with people about stories, not to talk to people about what they hate about something but about what they love. I’d certainly be willing to put Twilight in this category.

                  Why read Twilight? I don’t know. I guess I’m just willing to give anything a shot, especially when it comes to books. I honestly didn’t know how hated Twilight was until recently; I just knew it was huge. And I don’t generally trust criticism I hear about anything, since it almost always seems to vary depending on the source.

                  Sometimes I read a book just because I know it will be a quick read, maybe even mindless. I certainly waste time daily in worse ways. But in this case maybe I read TWLT because I felt assured of victory, a chance for GF to witness my outstanding reading talents and suffer my competitive ruthlessness. I will give you this: it was a cheap win and much less satisfying than I had hoped.

                • All right, Keef, you’re starting to piss me off. I was a little irritated with your elitist “this book isn’t something you would enjoy, so I won’t even deign to tell you its title” comment. How high is the horse you ride that you can’t pass on the name of a book to someone? Who are you to decide what I would or would not enjoy, and since when do you have the right to judge whether my blog (and its reviews, which are scarce in number) accurately reflect the entire spectrum of literature I enjoy? Why not let me make the decision about what I want to read, regardless of your opinion about my potential enjoyment? Also, it’s rude to quote something and then, when someone asks “WTF are you talking about,” to say, “I was quoting something I knew you’d all be too stupid to recognize.”

                  Then, you continued to needle me about my choice to review the Twilight series, even though the rest of my commenters looked past my poor choice of literature and decided to focus on the fun I had criticizing the series as a whole and its author (and even joined in on that fun). Again, still only mildly irritating.

                  But then you insulted my boyfriend. Given that he does, indeed, have a pair of testicles (and has already managed to answer you with aloof dignity, twice), I’ll not respond further to the comments you directed at him. I just wanted to make it clear to you that that was the part that sent me over the edge. It’s a petty man who takes pleasure in attempting to emasculate another man.

                  • Keef

                    About the book that I was referencing, no, I’m not willing to share the title. I was actually very self-conscious about it after your suicide response for some personal reasons. Sorry to imply it was above you or anybody else. Thanks for your honesty though. I wasn’t having fun with your review after that. Everything else, I was attempting to be jovial or constructive, but the anger kind of sneaks up on you. I think it’s time for a real vacation. Good luck with your hobby.

  6. Jar

    I was going to tell you how hilariously good this post was, and praise your writing, and all that business, but because of you I now know more about the Twilight Series then I ever would have known otherwise. Right now, I hate you.

    Also, on the note of bad art giving women horrible ideas of how relationships should work, what to look for in men, and how to value themselves, a comparison with Grease might work better then P&P. I really don’t get why so many women eat that garbage up.

    • J.R., I was going to apologize, but then you said you hated me. So…

      Anyway, yes, I think you’re right about Grease. I think it’s evident that my P&P comparison was a weak one and that, had I thought about it more, I could’ve come up with a better one. The trick was, I didn’t want to think about it more. I just wanted to be done with the post! Thanks for reading.

      PS Grease is a classic, and I love it! (But I ignore the message.)

  7. This was a great post. Even though it was lengthy, it was a well-written, dare I say enjoyable, read. You’ve convinced me to never read these books and also given me a more intelligent reason for that conclusion than my current one, which is simply: because they’re stupid.

  8. Pingback: 11/22/63, by Stephen King | A Literary Illusion

  9. Pingback: I Can’t Help it if My Personality is Chocolate | A Literary Illusion

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