Further Proof
I decided to go to Books-A-Million tonight. It's been a while since I've read anything new, so I picked up a few items. In my browsing, I grabbed a copy of The Bostonians by Henry James, The World According to Garp by John Irving and The Audacity of Hope by President Obama.
While I was browsing through the fiction section, I ran across a mother and daughter looking for books, themselves. The mother was gingerly thumbing through an Ann Rice novel. The daughter was buzzing around the aisles, obviously looking for something in particular.
As I'm grabbing The Bostonians, I hear the little girl walk up to her mother and say, "Mom, is Dracula a real book?"
I was dumbfounded. What in the hell?
Her mother said yes, but I half expected her to respond, "No dear. It's just a myth perpetuated by people jealous of Stephanie Meyer's greatness. There's no such thing as an evil vampire."
This is what Twilight has reduced literature to. It's fast food for a fast food nation. You can feign how you "get" Bella all you want, but it's nothing more than four (or is it five?) books of pure verbal masturbation.
While I was browsing through the fiction section, I ran across a mother and daughter looking for books, themselves. The mother was gingerly thumbing through an Ann Rice novel. The daughter was buzzing around the aisles, obviously looking for something in particular.
As I'm grabbing The Bostonians, I hear the little girl walk up to her mother and say, "Mom, is Dracula a real book?"
I was dumbfounded. What in the hell?
Her mother said yes, but I half expected her to respond, "No dear. It's just a myth perpetuated by people jealous of Stephanie Meyer's greatness. There's no such thing as an evil vampire."
This is what Twilight has reduced literature to. It's fast food for a fast food nation. You can feign how you "get" Bella all you want, but it's nothing more than four (or is it five?) books of pure verbal masturbation.