(no subject)
Okay, so I finished Twilight. Yet another six hours straight through, which still disturbs me. Fortunately I was expecting it this time, and I managed to retain most of my faculties and realize that nothing was happening while it didn’t happen, rather than coming out of a stupor and realizing how much I hated the book only after iTunes turned it off. That helped a lot. It still took me an hour to realize why it was making me so angry, but I was at least able to recognize the most disturbing part as being disturbing while it was happening.
Thank you, Stephenie Meyer. Thank you so very, very much. Because The Phantom of the Opera didn’t convince enough girls that stalking = twu wuv, and that a psychopathic man is clearly the most desirable. Because, obviously, one of the most important traits I look for in a guy is that he has at some point fantasized about killing me with his bare hands. Because the fact that he didn’t kill me clearly means he loves me more than anyone else could. Obviously. And thanks for reminding us, your fellow females, that our role in the relationship is to be helpless, and be ordered around for our own good, and be carried about without our consent, and be manipulated by the guy’s charm, and be stupid and saved by the man’s superior intellect. Thanks for that. I was getting dangerously close to, you know, thinking for myself and stuff. And really, thank you for the stalker thing. We all needed that reminder. Of course a guy can’t possibly love me unless he won’t let me out of his sight. Obviously following a girl without her knowledge, and watching her sleep at night without her knowledge isn’t creepy at all. That is what all good boyfriends do. And it’s even sweeter if they do it when they’re not your boyfriend yet. And of course when a guy tells me I’m “his life now”, that shouldn’t freak me out and set off alarm bells in my head and send me running. No, a girl should want a guy that’s obsessed with her. That’s the dream. Obviously. Thank you for reminding me. And more importantly, thank you for reminding the thousands of much stupider and far more impressionable other girls out there. It isn’t because of people like you that I had to spend the better part of a year getting my friend out of a relationship with a creeper. Definitely not. So thanks.
That aspect alone would have been enough to make me hate the book with fiery passion. But then there was the videotaping of the attack. So sick! So disturbing! “Visual effect”. I literally almost threw up. And it wasn’t because of the violence and blood. It was because I finally recognized the vampire thing for what it is: an elaborate metaphor for rape. And when you read it like that, it is so much more disgusting than if it were just someone being killed. And you know what, I doubt Stephenie Meyer meant for it to be that way, but when you have a guy hunting a girl, and the act is drawn out, and it’s not about a physical desire but about power, it is a metaphor for rape whether you meant it to be or not. And then when you add a videotape, it goes beyond disgusting and into levels of disturbing that a teen romance novel should never ever go! I was sickened, literally. How have critics missed this? It is beyond sick!
And then the whole story is so very Mary-Sue. It’s textbook Mary-Sue, actually. New girl in school. She thinks she’s ugly. She angsts. She’s inexplicably popular. All the boys like her. She’s confused by this (as are the readers). She finds it irksome. She angsts. There’s a Mysterious Boy. He’s absolutely perfect. He’s the only one that doesn’t like her. She angsts. Mysterious Boy suddenly does like her. She is angry that he didn’t like her straight away. They fight. She angsts. Mysterious Boy saves her life. Naturally, she can’t be grateful like a normal human being. They fight again. She angsts again. Eventually, she and Mysterious Boy have a civil conversation. She doesn’t think she’s good enough for him. He rebukes her, telling her she’s more beautiful/interesting/unique than she realizes. She doesn’t believe him (with good reason; the reader has as yet seen no evidence of her being beautiful or interesting or unique … nor will they). She angsts. For reasons that the reader will never understand, Mysterious Boy is totally smitten. He’s the perfect boyfriend. They kiss. She angsts anyway. Mysterious Boy -- hang on, I think I saw this same story on fanfiction.net … about five hundred thousand times. Please, someone, tell me what is so original or interesting about this plot, because whatever it is, it’s eluding me.
As far as I could tell, annoyingly, aside from the rape part, nothing happened. Edward was a creepy stalker. Bella was a wangsty bitch. Edward and Bella kissed. But nothing really happened! I don’t even understand the appeal of this story because there was no story! When I wasn’t filled with rage or about to throw up, I was bored out of my mind! I don’t even understand how this series has gained such an intense following. I don’t even see how there is a series. I certainly don’t care about what happens to Edward and Bella. After fourteen hours of nothing happening to them, it doesn’t make a difference to me if nothing continues to happen to them for another book, or three more, or none at all. But though I have not been converted to those anxious fangirls, quivering with excitement to see how it all ends, I do have a theory.
How I think the story ends: Breaking Dawn is released in August, amidst feverish excitement from fans, and enjoys several weeks atop the bestseller list. Those dissatisfied with the ending write lots of fanfiction. Those depressed that it’s over write lengthy entries in their blogs about how excited they are for the film, and how they’ve already preordered the still unwritten Midnight Sun. December is filled with squeeing fangirls at various premieres, and there’s an upswing of Robert Pattinson icons on LJ. Fan reactions to the film range from adoration to fury, depending on the quality of the film and the anal-retentiveness of the fan. I go to see the film with Amy because no one else will go see a movie about vampires with her. I enjoy it more than the book because, since film is a visual medium, I don’t have to spend a lot time in Bella’s whiney, angsty, bitchy mind; however, I am still disturbed by the same things that disturbed me in the book. The film produces yet another generation of idiot fangirls fantasizing about being stalked and controlled by their boyfriends. I am furious. Feminism weeps. Stephenie Meyer’s writing improves over time, and each book she writes uses fewer flowery adjectives and features characters that are less Mary-Sue-ish than the previous one. She enjoys moderate success, though none of her other books become as wildly popular as the Twilight series. After a year or two, most of the fanbase outgrows the series and moves on. All is right with the world.
Thank you, Stephenie Meyer. Thank you so very, very much. Because The Phantom of the Opera didn’t convince enough girls that stalking = twu wuv, and that a psychopathic man is clearly the most desirable. Because, obviously, one of the most important traits I look for in a guy is that he has at some point fantasized about killing me with his bare hands. Because the fact that he didn’t kill me clearly means he loves me more than anyone else could. Obviously. And thanks for reminding us, your fellow females, that our role in the relationship is to be helpless, and be ordered around for our own good, and be carried about without our consent, and be manipulated by the guy’s charm, and be stupid and saved by the man’s superior intellect. Thanks for that. I was getting dangerously close to, you know, thinking for myself and stuff. And really, thank you for the stalker thing. We all needed that reminder. Of course a guy can’t possibly love me unless he won’t let me out of his sight. Obviously following a girl without her knowledge, and watching her sleep at night without her knowledge isn’t creepy at all. That is what all good boyfriends do. And it’s even sweeter if they do it when they’re not your boyfriend yet. And of course when a guy tells me I’m “his life now”, that shouldn’t freak me out and set off alarm bells in my head and send me running. No, a girl should want a guy that’s obsessed with her. That’s the dream. Obviously. Thank you for reminding me. And more importantly, thank you for reminding the thousands of much stupider and far more impressionable other girls out there. It isn’t because of people like you that I had to spend the better part of a year getting my friend out of a relationship with a creeper. Definitely not. So thanks.
That aspect alone would have been enough to make me hate the book with fiery passion. But then there was the videotaping of the attack. So sick! So disturbing! “Visual effect”. I literally almost threw up. And it wasn’t because of the violence and blood. It was because I finally recognized the vampire thing for what it is: an elaborate metaphor for rape. And when you read it like that, it is so much more disgusting than if it were just someone being killed. And you know what, I doubt Stephenie Meyer meant for it to be that way, but when you have a guy hunting a girl, and the act is drawn out, and it’s not about a physical desire but about power, it is a metaphor for rape whether you meant it to be or not. And then when you add a videotape, it goes beyond disgusting and into levels of disturbing that a teen romance novel should never ever go! I was sickened, literally. How have critics missed this? It is beyond sick!
And then the whole story is so very Mary-Sue. It’s textbook Mary-Sue, actually. New girl in school. She thinks she’s ugly. She angsts. She’s inexplicably popular. All the boys like her. She’s confused by this (as are the readers). She finds it irksome. She angsts. There’s a Mysterious Boy. He’s absolutely perfect. He’s the only one that doesn’t like her. She angsts. Mysterious Boy suddenly does like her. She is angry that he didn’t like her straight away. They fight. She angsts. Mysterious Boy saves her life. Naturally, she can’t be grateful like a normal human being. They fight again. She angsts again. Eventually, she and Mysterious Boy have a civil conversation. She doesn’t think she’s good enough for him. He rebukes her, telling her she’s more beautiful/interesting/unique than she realizes. She doesn’t believe him (with good reason; the reader has as yet seen no evidence of her being beautiful or interesting or unique … nor will they). She angsts. For reasons that the reader will never understand, Mysterious Boy is totally smitten. He’s the perfect boyfriend. They kiss. She angsts anyway. Mysterious Boy -- hang on, I think I saw this same story on fanfiction.net … about five hundred thousand times. Please, someone, tell me what is so original or interesting about this plot, because whatever it is, it’s eluding me.
As far as I could tell, annoyingly, aside from the rape part, nothing happened. Edward was a creepy stalker. Bella was a wangsty bitch. Edward and Bella kissed. But nothing really happened! I don’t even understand the appeal of this story because there was no story! When I wasn’t filled with rage or about to throw up, I was bored out of my mind! I don’t even understand how this series has gained such an intense following. I don’t even see how there is a series. I certainly don’t care about what happens to Edward and Bella. After fourteen hours of nothing happening to them, it doesn’t make a difference to me if nothing continues to happen to them for another book, or three more, or none at all. But though I have not been converted to those anxious fangirls, quivering with excitement to see how it all ends, I do have a theory.
How I think the story ends: Breaking Dawn is released in August, amidst feverish excitement from fans, and enjoys several weeks atop the bestseller list. Those dissatisfied with the ending write lots of fanfiction. Those depressed that it’s over write lengthy entries in their blogs about how excited they are for the film, and how they’ve already preordered the still unwritten Midnight Sun. December is filled with squeeing fangirls at various premieres, and there’s an upswing of Robert Pattinson icons on LJ. Fan reactions to the film range from adoration to fury, depending on the quality of the film and the anal-retentiveness of the fan. I go to see the film with Amy because no one else will go see a movie about vampires with her. I enjoy it more than the book because, since film is a visual medium, I don’t have to spend a lot time in Bella’s whiney, angsty, bitchy mind; however, I am still disturbed by the same things that disturbed me in the book. The film produces yet another generation of idiot fangirls fantasizing about being stalked and controlled by their boyfriends. I am furious. Feminism weeps. Stephenie Meyer’s writing improves over time, and each book she writes uses fewer flowery adjectives and features characters that are less Mary-Sue-ish than the previous one. She enjoys moderate success, though none of her other books become as wildly popular as the Twilight series. After a year or two, most of the fanbase outgrows the series and moves on. All is right with the world.