My Day of "Dreckoning"

I have just completed one of the most excruciating tasks of my life.

I have read Twilight.

Even admitting to this makes me feel as if I should hand in my Y chromosome. Those of you who know me are well aware that I have a very strong disdain for this book series that I refer to as The Wacky Adventures of Emo McSparkleVamp and His Furry Friends.

The day I realized I was officially too old for MTV was the day of the 2009 MTV Movie Awards, when the award for Best Movie (voted on by the viewers) went to: not Iron Man nor The Dark Knight, but Twilight. I decided at that exact moment that if this was what the MTV-watching public decided was "cool," then I no longer wished to be a member of the MTV-watching public. My abhorrence for MTV's tastes has recently been reinforced by the Best Movie award for 2010 going to the sequel, New Moon.

I have given my reasons for despising Twilight before, on multiple occasions. So why, you may ask, would I willingly read the first volume of something I have already proclaimed to loathe with the fiery passion of a thousand suns?

About 2 weeks ago, I was expressing my dislike of Twilight to the latest person who was willing to listen: Renne, the sister of my girlfriend Roxanne. Finally, Roxanne had heard enough and called me out on it. She asked how I could possibly talk about this book series, let alone hate it, if I had never even made the effort to read any of it.

I had to admit, she had a good point. I'd been tempted to give Twilight a try before, but always shied away; mainly because almost anybody I knew that had read it warned me not to bother; it was little more than Fan Fiction, and third-rate Fan Fiction at that. But I finally felt that I could no longer express an opinion on something I had not experienced myself. So I borrowed a copy from a friend. (He couldn't even finish it himself.)

Well, I have now read the full 498 pages of this opus, and I can speak with definite authority. This book is, for want of a better term...

Crap.

There are a number of reasons that I can now hate Twilight in peace. Let's journey into it, shall we?

1. This book is sappier than a Vermont Maple Syrup Festival. It should have been written on pancakes, not pages. I rolled my eyes so much at the flowery teen-diary prose, it nearly gave me a migraine. I almost wish it did; that would have distracted me from the painful writing.

2. The main character, Bella, is a vapid, luke-warm, nearly brain-dead martyr. She has absolutely no faith in herself, and believes with every fiber of her being that she is plain, boring and worthless. And with how much she jabbers on about that, it's hard to disagree.

Bella eagerly volunteers herself into situations that she knows for a fact will make her miserable, since being unhappy seems to be the only thing that makes her happy. Moving to a town she hates was her idea, hanging out with people she doesn't even like was her idea, and refusing to believe that anyone could see any good in her was her idea. She even mentions that once, she ate dirt on a dare. Good Lord, woman! Have some self-respect!

This girl intentionally makes herself miserable so that she has an excuse to mope around with a storm cloud over her head that matches the clouds that seemingly cover Forks, Washington, 364 days a year. (I live in Seattle, people. It's not that gray.) She also seems to be incredulous that anyone, let alone 3 or 4 different guys, could be romantically interested in her. It's the Woody Allen theory. "I don't like myself, so if you like me, there must be something wrong with you." (For the record, I've never much liked Woody Allen either.)

3. Bella goes on and on and on and ON about how pretty Edward is (That's the vampire, in case any of you have been living under a rock for the last decade.) She compares him to a marble statue, an angel, a Pagan god, and will not stop GUSHING over how pretty he is. We GET it. He's PRETTY. MOVE THE HELL ON.

4. Nothing HAPPENS for the first half of the book. On the rare occasion that something more that teen angst actually occurs, it seems completely out of place and tacked-on, just to show Edward off as a super-pretty super-hero. He saves her from a car accident that comes out of nowhere and goes away just as fast. He saves her from being attacked in a situation that nobody who lived in a community of more than 500 people would ever get themselves into.

5. This book is teaching an entire generation of impressionable young girls that this is what a healthy relationship is supposed to look like: "Ohh, the really really really pretty boy who treats me like crap isn't here today! Waahh!" (If you think I'm exaggerating, read Chapter 1, and then the third paragraph of Chapter 2.)

Edward, or as he's known by many of my friends, "Sullen Cullen," is getting Bella involved in a textbook example of an abusive relationship. He stares at her constantly, alternating between desire and revulsion. He follows her. He alternately brings her in close and then pushes her away, just to keep her interested. At one point, he disconnects her car battery so that she can't leave home. He shows off how strong he is to her and actually tells her that he could kill her with a simple move of his hand. He intentionally drives at insane speeds with her in the car, despite knowing that it scares her to no end. And the coup de grace:

He. Watches. Her. SLEEP.

This is before they have even started their relationship! Sullen Cullen actually tells this girl that he spends all night, every night, perched outside her bedroom window, watching her sleep! This just sprinted out of Creepy, pole-vaulted over Icky, and landed smack dab in the middle of Unacceptable. The reason he gives for this? There's nothing else in town to do.

6. And finally, this is probably the most shallow reason to hate Twilight, but it's also the reason that rings the most true for why this book series is crap. When these "Vampires" are exposed to sunlight, do they die? No. Do they burst into flames? No. Are they physically weakened in any way? Nope. Then what happens?

They GLOW and SPARKLE.

Call me a purist if you must, but there are certain rules when it comes to the lore of Vampires. Some rules can be bent, some can be broken.
Vampirism is a disease, not a curse? (Example: I Am Legend by Richard Matheson) Fine.
Holy symbols do not repel Vampires? (Example: Interview With the Vampire by Anne Rice) Sure.

But there is one rule that is gospel, and is universal for nearly all bloodsucking creatures of the night:

Vampire + sunlight = bursting into flame, reduction to ash, and death. The only exception is Dracula himself, and he is still physically weakened by sunlight.

Besides being true to the Vampire mythos, the idea of becoming shiny in daylight flies entirely in the face of the natural laws of evolution. Not only does this "glitter factor" completely destroy any ability to camouflage oneself in one's surroundings, it immediately identifies one as a predator! You don't hear cheetahs roaring into the plains at full volume; that would scare away prey!

The best way I've found to express it is the following: Sparkling and glowing in sunlight isn't a sign that you're a Vampire; it's a sign that you're David Bowie.

Quite simply, this is a book that should serve only as a cautionary tale for what happens when you try to pass off a truly terrible and entirely forgettable romance novel as an icon of pop culture. The fact that Stephenie Meyer has become rich and famous by cranking out 5 volumes of this dreck is absolutely beyond belief. And now that I have jumped on this nearly 500-page grenade of mediocrity for you, dear readers, I feel the need to cleanse my palate. Maybe some John Steinbeck will wash this unpleasant taste out of my mind.