Reading Twilight So You Don't Have To: Chapter Eleven
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven: Complications
Blah blah blah, Bella and Edward watch a movie in science while getting all hot and bothered by sitting so close in the dark.
Two pages later, blah blah blah, Bella goes to Gym, which is ::sob:: Edwardless. Saying good-bye is painful. For them, and the reader.
The gym teacher's name is Coach Clapp. Seriously, Stephanie Meyer????
Mike rescues Bella from her clumsy clumsiness and awful awfulness at sports by asking her to team with him. A page of Bella being clumsily clumsy, then she gets mad at Mike for questioning her about Edward and offering an opinion: "He looks at you like... like you're something to eat." Get it? IRONY.
Bella has palpations wondering if Edward will meet up with her after gym and OMG HE DOES! He eavesdropped on Mike's brain during gym and Bella is shocked... SHOCKED, I tell you! To the point where she stomps away angrily and, just to show him how PISSED she is at this INVASION, she stomps RIGHT TO HIS CAR! That'll teach him to eavesdrop on HER! He asks if she'll forgive him. Her response?
"Maybe... if you mean it. And if you promised not to do it again," I insisted. (emphasis mine)
This is followed by her forgiving him even though he does not promise not to do it again, but instead offers to "let" her drive when they go out on Saturday not to Seattle.
Aside from the unnecessary synonym for "said," (we'd know it was Bella speaking without it), to quote Inigo Montoya in The Princess Bride, "You keep using that word. I do not think it means what you think it means."
in-sist: Verb. To be emphatic, firm, or resolute on some matter of desire, demand, intention, etc.
She's so emphatic, firm, and resolute, that she gives in two paragraphs later. Of course, the fact that she was already at his car kind of implies she'd already forgiven him before she even "insisted," so I guess it's a moot point. But Ms. Meyer, if you're gonna use an unnecessary synonym for "said," can it at least be one that makes sense in context?
Blah blah blah, they talk about logistics for their not-going-to-Seattle date on Saturday, and then get back to why Edward won't let Bella see him hunt.
"When we hunt," he spoke slowly..."
Okay, I gotta stop right there. You don't "spoke" dialogue. Either you end the sentence with the dialogue, then use the description as a new sentence: "He spoke slowly..." or he said the dialogue: "'When we hunt,' he said slowly..." I'm sorry, but does Little Brown Publishing even have any editors on staff?
::deep breath::
"When we hunt," he spoke slowly, unwillingly, "we give ourselves over to our senses...govern less with our minds. Especially our sense of smell. If you were anywhere near me when I lost control that way..." He shook his head, still gazing morosely at the heavy clouds.
I kept my expression firmly under control, expecting the swift flash of his eyes to judge my reaction that soon followed. My face gave away nothing.
But our eyes held, and the silence deepened--and changed. Flickers of the electricity I'd felt this afternoon began to charge the atmosphere as he gazed unrelentingly into my eyes.
She's turned on by the fact that he would absolutely, certainly kill her if she went hunting with him. And so is he. Are we talking some serious S&M here, or what? Oh, yes, this is fabulous reading material for pre-teens.
Okay, back to the story. They've arrived at home, she goes in, dreams about Edward while tossing and turning (lusty dreams--yet more wonderful fodder for 12-year-olds). The next morning, her dad tries to talk her into going to the dance instead of "Seattle" (she tells him half-truths so he thinks she's still planning on going there because, for some reason, she's reluctant to tell her father she's going to be alone on a date with a guy who wants to eat her.
Edward is back to pick her up (showing up only after Dad Charlie is gone). Blah blah blah, Edward starts asking her a bunch of stupid, mundane questions like she's under interrogation. Favorite, color, favorite music, blah blah blah. Quizzing goes on for three pages, and then he asks her what she misses about home.
I tried to describe impossible things like thh scent of creosote--bitter, slightly resinous, but still pleasant--the high, keening sound of the cicadas in July, the feathery barrenness of the trees, the very size of the sky, extending white-blue from horizon to horizon, barely interrupted by the low mountains covered with purple volcanic rock. The hardest thing to explain was why it was so beautiful to me--to justify a beauty that didn't depend on the sparse, spiny vegetation that often looked half dead, a beauty that had more to do with the exposed shape of the land, with the shallow bowls of valleys between the craggy hills, and the way they held on to the sun. I found myself using my hands as I tried to describe this to him.
::blink::
Was that actual descriptive writing? Actual good descriptive writing???
Maybe it's because of my own passionate love for Arizona, but when Stephanie Meyer writes about the desert, her words sing to me. I can smell the creosote and rosemary, and hear the cicadas, and see the sparse trees and the craggy mountains and just... YES. So why is it she can describe the desert with such breathtaking clarity, in all its beauty and strangeness, but she can't describe the hero of her story with anything other than the word "perfect"? Is it possible that it's not her writing skills that are lacking, but her understanding of people? Of humanity? Of what makes us beautiful and what makes us ugly and the difference between the two? The desert she GETS. Seriously, beautifully GETS. But people? Notsomuch.
Unfortunately, Twilight is about romance, not about the desert, so after this stunning paragraph, we're back to blah blah blah, Edward asks her mundane questions. They lose track of time sitting in the car in the rain in front of her house, and then another car shows up, and Edward freaks out. Bella thinks it's her dad Charlie, but it isn't. It's Jacob Black and his father, Billy Black. (Incidentally, she manages to be interesting in her description of Billy: "...a much older man, a heavyset man iwth a memorable face--a face that overflowed, the cheeks resting against his shoulders, with creases running through the russet skin like an old leather jacket." Maybe it's just perfect people she can't describe?) And Jacob and Billy saw Edward with her. And OMG, Billy knows Edward is a vampire.
DUN DUN DUN...
Chapter Twelve
Quick Links:
Why I'm doing this | Preface & 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 | 16 | 16.2 | 17 | 18 | 19 | 20 | 21 | 22 | 23 | 24 | Epilogue |
Discussion Questions
Chapter Eleven: Complications
Blah blah blah, Bella and Edward watch a movie in science while getting all hot and bothered by sitting so close in the dark.
Two pages later, blah blah blah, Bella goes to Gym, which is ::sob:: Edwardless. Saying good-bye is painful. For them, and the reader.
The gym teacher's name is Coach Clapp. Seriously, Stephanie Meyer????
Mike rescues Bella from her clumsy clumsiness and awful awfulness at sports by asking her to team with him. A page of Bella being clumsily clumsy, then she gets mad at Mike for questioning her about Edward and offering an opinion: "He looks at you like... like you're something to eat." Get it? IRONY.
Bella has palpations wondering if Edward will meet up with her after gym and OMG HE DOES! He eavesdropped on Mike's brain during gym and Bella is shocked... SHOCKED, I tell you! To the point where she stomps away angrily and, just to show him how PISSED she is at this INVASION, she stomps RIGHT TO HIS CAR! That'll teach him to eavesdrop on HER! He asks if she'll forgive him. Her response?
"Maybe... if you mean it. And if you promised not to do it again," I insisted. (emphasis mine)
This is followed by her forgiving him even though he does not promise not to do it again, but instead offers to "let" her drive when they go out on Saturday not to Seattle.
Aside from the unnecessary synonym for "said," (we'd know it was Bella speaking without it), to quote Inigo Montoya in The Princess Bride, "You keep using that word. I do not think it means what you think it means."
in-sist: Verb. To be emphatic, firm, or resolute on some matter of desire, demand, intention, etc.
She's so emphatic, firm, and resolute, that she gives in two paragraphs later. Of course, the fact that she was already at his car kind of implies she'd already forgiven him before she even "insisted," so I guess it's a moot point. But Ms. Meyer, if you're gonna use an unnecessary synonym for "said," can it at least be one that makes sense in context?
Blah blah blah, they talk about logistics for their not-going-to-Seattle date on Saturday, and then get back to why Edward won't let Bella see him hunt.
"When we hunt," he spoke slowly..."
Okay, I gotta stop right there. You don't "spoke" dialogue. Either you end the sentence with the dialogue, then use the description as a new sentence: "He spoke slowly..." or he said the dialogue: "'When we hunt,' he said slowly..." I'm sorry, but does Little Brown Publishing even have any editors on staff?
::deep breath::
"When we hunt," he spoke slowly, unwillingly, "we give ourselves over to our senses...govern less with our minds. Especially our sense of smell. If you were anywhere near me when I lost control that way..." He shook his head, still gazing morosely at the heavy clouds.
I kept my expression firmly under control, expecting the swift flash of his eyes to judge my reaction that soon followed. My face gave away nothing.
But our eyes held, and the silence deepened--and changed. Flickers of the electricity I'd felt this afternoon began to charge the atmosphere as he gazed unrelentingly into my eyes.
She's turned on by the fact that he would absolutely, certainly kill her if she went hunting with him. And so is he. Are we talking some serious S&M here, or what? Oh, yes, this is fabulous reading material for pre-teens.
Okay, back to the story. They've arrived at home, she goes in, dreams about Edward while tossing and turning (lusty dreams--yet more wonderful fodder for 12-year-olds). The next morning, her dad tries to talk her into going to the dance instead of "Seattle" (she tells him half-truths so he thinks she's still planning on going there because, for some reason, she's reluctant to tell her father she's going to be alone on a date with a guy who wants to eat her.
Edward is back to pick her up (showing up only after Dad Charlie is gone). Blah blah blah, Edward starts asking her a bunch of stupid, mundane questions like she's under interrogation. Favorite, color, favorite music, blah blah blah. Quizzing goes on for three pages, and then he asks her what she misses about home.
I tried to describe impossible things like thh scent of creosote--bitter, slightly resinous, but still pleasant--the high, keening sound of the cicadas in July, the feathery barrenness of the trees, the very size of the sky, extending white-blue from horizon to horizon, barely interrupted by the low mountains covered with purple volcanic rock. The hardest thing to explain was why it was so beautiful to me--to justify a beauty that didn't depend on the sparse, spiny vegetation that often looked half dead, a beauty that had more to do with the exposed shape of the land, with the shallow bowls of valleys between the craggy hills, and the way they held on to the sun. I found myself using my hands as I tried to describe this to him.
::blink::
Was that actual descriptive writing? Actual good descriptive writing???
Maybe it's because of my own passionate love for Arizona, but when Stephanie Meyer writes about the desert, her words sing to me. I can smell the creosote and rosemary, and hear the cicadas, and see the sparse trees and the craggy mountains and just... YES. So why is it she can describe the desert with such breathtaking clarity, in all its beauty and strangeness, but she can't describe the hero of her story with anything other than the word "perfect"? Is it possible that it's not her writing skills that are lacking, but her understanding of people? Of humanity? Of what makes us beautiful and what makes us ugly and the difference between the two? The desert she GETS. Seriously, beautifully GETS. But people? Notsomuch.
Unfortunately, Twilight is about romance, not about the desert, so after this stunning paragraph, we're back to blah blah blah, Edward asks her mundane questions. They lose track of time sitting in the car in the rain in front of her house, and then another car shows up, and Edward freaks out. Bella thinks it's her dad Charlie, but it isn't. It's Jacob Black and his father, Billy Black. (Incidentally, she manages to be interesting in her description of Billy: "...a much older man, a heavyset man iwth a memorable face--a face that overflowed, the cheeks resting against his shoulders, with creases running through the russet skin like an old leather jacket." Maybe it's just perfect people she can't describe?) And Jacob and Billy saw Edward with her. And OMG, Billy knows Edward is a vampire.
DUN DUN DUN...
Chapter Twelve
Quick Links:
Why I'm doing this | Preface & 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 | 16 | 16.2 | 17 | 18 | 19 | 20 | 21 | 22 | 23 | 24 | Epilogue |
Discussion Questions