Twilight - Stephenie Meyer
About three things I was absolutely positive.
First, Edward was a vampire.
Second, there was a part of him - and I didn't know how dominant that part might be - that thirsted for my blood.
And third, I was unconditionally and irrevocably in love with him.
Hoo boy. OK, so this book. Yeah. Hard to know where to start, somehow. OK, well, this book and its three sequels have gotten a lot of attention over the last year or so, hailed by some as the new Harry Potter. Teenaged girls read it and become rabid fans, and even sane, reasonable people have been reading it and apparently enjoying it enough to subsequently devour the sequels as well. So I thought perhaps it was time to read it for myself and see what all the fuss is about.
Having now read it, I'm still really not sure. When I first started it, I could see why people kept reading; it was very soap opera-esque. Generally dreadful writing, with overwrought dialogue and excessively flowery descriptive language, and logic and situations that were at times a little ridiculous. And yet still compelling.
Then I kept reading and... nothing changed. Seriously, the first 400 pages in this book were devoted pretty much exclusively to nothing but this love story, without even any real obstacles to surmount in order to live happily ever after. Even the vampire thing was really barely a blip. But here's the thing. Your average romance novel, which basically tells a love story and little else, is generally not more than 300 pages. At most. And that includes whatever sub-plots make that particular romance the story that it is. And the sub-plots are what make the things readable at all. Without them, you just have a pair of whiny, self-absorbed people, who can't get their heads out of their asses long enough to realize that they're meant to be together. Or, even worse, do realize it, and spend 400 pages talking about it. This thing moved so unbelievably slowly that I honestly don't even know how any publisher managed to read far enough to get interested enough to actually publish this thing. About halfway through, I revised my description of what this book was like. It was not like a soap opera. It was like a Jane Austen novel, if Jane Austen were a complete and utter hack. Because, while I personally may not much care for the books Jane Austen writes, I truly can appreciate her craft, and as I discussed in regards to Persuasion, her ability to weave this subtle dance for the main players to do that actually does hold your interest and makes you care. Poor Jane Austen is probably rolling over in her grave at being compared to Stephenie Meyer, and I'm truly sorry about that, Ms. Austen, but you really are coming out way ahead in this comparison, so I hope that helps.
Anyway, so the first 400 pages were, frankly, painful. The final hundred were actually not bad. Why? Because something actually happens. We've finally moved past the introductory stage, where we're meeting the characters and finding out about all the wacky features vampires have, and something is happening! I know, I was shocked, too. There was still too much dialogue for suspense writing, but it moved well, and was, yeah, actually not half bad. And suddenly I understood why people might actually feel compelled to read the next book in the series. The way this ends, it does feel like things should be ready to start happening for real now, so the following books should theoretically be a little less... painfully slow. Of course, I've heard that that's not entirely the case, but I can see how you would think that it might be, and want to keep reading. And I think I will too, although not just yet. There's only so much teen melodrama I can take in one dose.
Next up: All the World's Mornings, by Pascal Quignard
First, Edward was a vampire.
Second, there was a part of him - and I didn't know how dominant that part might be - that thirsted for my blood.
And third, I was unconditionally and irrevocably in love with him.
Hoo boy. OK, so this book. Yeah. Hard to know where to start, somehow. OK, well, this book and its three sequels have gotten a lot of attention over the last year or so, hailed by some as the new Harry Potter. Teenaged girls read it and become rabid fans, and even sane, reasonable people have been reading it and apparently enjoying it enough to subsequently devour the sequels as well. So I thought perhaps it was time to read it for myself and see what all the fuss is about.
Having now read it, I'm still really not sure. When I first started it, I could see why people kept reading; it was very soap opera-esque. Generally dreadful writing, with overwrought dialogue and excessively flowery descriptive language, and logic and situations that were at times a little ridiculous. And yet still compelling.
Then I kept reading and... nothing changed. Seriously, the first 400 pages in this book were devoted pretty much exclusively to nothing but this love story, without even any real obstacles to surmount in order to live happily ever after. Even the vampire thing was really barely a blip. But here's the thing. Your average romance novel, which basically tells a love story and little else, is generally not more than 300 pages. At most. And that includes whatever sub-plots make that particular romance the story that it is. And the sub-plots are what make the things readable at all. Without them, you just have a pair of whiny, self-absorbed people, who can't get their heads out of their asses long enough to realize that they're meant to be together. Or, even worse, do realize it, and spend 400 pages talking about it. This thing moved so unbelievably slowly that I honestly don't even know how any publisher managed to read far enough to get interested enough to actually publish this thing. About halfway through, I revised my description of what this book was like. It was not like a soap opera. It was like a Jane Austen novel, if Jane Austen were a complete and utter hack. Because, while I personally may not much care for the books Jane Austen writes, I truly can appreciate her craft, and as I discussed in regards to Persuasion, her ability to weave this subtle dance for the main players to do that actually does hold your interest and makes you care. Poor Jane Austen is probably rolling over in her grave at being compared to Stephenie Meyer, and I'm truly sorry about that, Ms. Austen, but you really are coming out way ahead in this comparison, so I hope that helps.
Anyway, so the first 400 pages were, frankly, painful. The final hundred were actually not bad. Why? Because something actually happens. We've finally moved past the introductory stage, where we're meeting the characters and finding out about all the wacky features vampires have, and something is happening! I know, I was shocked, too. There was still too much dialogue for suspense writing, but it moved well, and was, yeah, actually not half bad. And suddenly I understood why people might actually feel compelled to read the next book in the series. The way this ends, it does feel like things should be ready to start happening for real now, so the following books should theoretically be a little less... painfully slow. Of course, I've heard that that's not entirely the case, but I can see how you would think that it might be, and want to keep reading. And I think I will too, although not just yet. There's only so much teen melodrama I can take in one dose.
Next up: All the World's Mornings, by Pascal Quignard