And so I've begun reading Twilight
indongcho will doubtless be horrified--it's not as if I haven't been amply warned--but I had to find out if it was really as bad as it's cracked up to be.
I'm up to p. 196. Observations thus far:
1. Bella's supposed motivation for coming to Forks is to free Renee to travel with Phil. Unfortunately, she's so lachrymose and self-pitying and apparently determined to be miserable, all through the first chapters, that it's impossible to believe her capable of anything that unselfish.
2. The patronizing tone with which Bella describes her classmates got old right quick.
3. The paranoid feminist in me is beginning to wonder if Twilight isn't written, in part, as a deliberate smackdown to feminist girls. And no, I don't consider Bella antifeminist because she cooks and keeps house. It's other things that are irking me--the feeling that she's being set up as a feminist who learns the error of her ways (as they frequently do in Christian fiction). She was the responsible one, the "adult," in her relationship with her mother--which suggests that before coming to Forks, she wasn't totally helpless; when Charlie worries that she'll get lost in Seattle, she reminds him that she never got lost in Phoenix, a larger city. She writes her English paper on misogyny in Shakespeare's treatment of his female characters, which I sense was supposed to be a trendily feminist topic. She stands aloof from her boy-crazy female classmates. When Jacob tells her that the Cullens are vampires, she doesn't just lie awake and angst; she goes to the internet to do some research, which is at least somewhat proactive. And when she's followed by the creeps in Port Angeles, she thinks of fighting rather than running--which actually made me almost warm to her.
Yet Edward--and by extension the author--insists on her helplessness, and the more she associates with Edward, the more helpless she seems to get. When she faints in biology class, Edward isn't content with helping her walk, but insists on carrying her; afterward, he won't let her drive home, but manhandles her into his car. Despite her assurance to Charlie that she could find her way around Phoenix, within a matter of minutes she gets lost in tiny Port Angeles. The very idea of her trying to fight off an attacker just pisses Edward off. And really, who wouldn't feel helpless, callow, and fragile in the company of the godlike Cullens? They're not only more beautiful than anyone else, and practically indestructible; as Bella says to Edward, "Is there anything that you don't do better than humans?" It all seems calculated to force Bella to the conclusion that she couldn't possibly be self-reliant; she's the weaker vessel, the fragile vine that can't stand without the support of the sturdy oak. And of course, that's the conclusion she eventually reaches--that without Edward, she's hardly alive at all.
That this is presented--and accepted--as soaringly romantic really ticks me off.
Anyway, indongcho, in case you haven't seen these, I thought I'd include a link or two to this anti-Twilight cartoon by the very clever shinga, and this essay--written by Lynstraine and posted at JournalFen--as well:
Your Tween Series Is Bad And You Should feel Bad.
I'm up to p. 196. Observations thus far:
1. Bella's supposed motivation for coming to Forks is to free Renee to travel with Phil. Unfortunately, she's so lachrymose and self-pitying and apparently determined to be miserable, all through the first chapters, that it's impossible to believe her capable of anything that unselfish.
2. The patronizing tone with which Bella describes her classmates got old right quick.
3. The paranoid feminist in me is beginning to wonder if Twilight isn't written, in part, as a deliberate smackdown to feminist girls. And no, I don't consider Bella antifeminist because she cooks and keeps house. It's other things that are irking me--the feeling that she's being set up as a feminist who learns the error of her ways (as they frequently do in Christian fiction). She was the responsible one, the "adult," in her relationship with her mother--which suggests that before coming to Forks, she wasn't totally helpless; when Charlie worries that she'll get lost in Seattle, she reminds him that she never got lost in Phoenix, a larger city. She writes her English paper on misogyny in Shakespeare's treatment of his female characters, which I sense was supposed to be a trendily feminist topic. She stands aloof from her boy-crazy female classmates. When Jacob tells her that the Cullens are vampires, she doesn't just lie awake and angst; she goes to the internet to do some research, which is at least somewhat proactive. And when she's followed by the creeps in Port Angeles, she thinks of fighting rather than running--which actually made me almost warm to her.
Yet Edward--and by extension the author--insists on her helplessness, and the more she associates with Edward, the more helpless she seems to get. When she faints in biology class, Edward isn't content with helping her walk, but insists on carrying her; afterward, he won't let her drive home, but manhandles her into his car. Despite her assurance to Charlie that she could find her way around Phoenix, within a matter of minutes she gets lost in tiny Port Angeles. The very idea of her trying to fight off an attacker just pisses Edward off. And really, who wouldn't feel helpless, callow, and fragile in the company of the godlike Cullens? They're not only more beautiful than anyone else, and practically indestructible; as Bella says to Edward, "Is there anything that you don't do better than humans?" It all seems calculated to force Bella to the conclusion that she couldn't possibly be self-reliant; she's the weaker vessel, the fragile vine that can't stand without the support of the sturdy oak. And of course, that's the conclusion she eventually reaches--that without Edward, she's hardly alive at all.
That this is presented--and accepted--as soaringly romantic really ticks me off.
Anyway, indongcho, in case you haven't seen these, I thought I'd include a link or two to this anti-Twilight cartoon by the very clever shinga, and this essay--written by Lynstraine and posted at JournalFen--as well:
Your Tween Series Is Bad And You Should feel Bad.