As I sat reading in a traffic jam on my way to the gym this evening, I suddenly realized that I was reaching the last couple of pages of New Moon.
“What?” you ask. “Weren’t you just starting Twilight a couple of days ago?”
Yes, I was. Despite their thickness, these books are some quick and easy reads. And, as the second one was a definite improvement over the first, I am actually looking forward to reading the third.
But I haven’t joined the cult.
I’m getting ahead of myself. More on that in a bit.
First, I would like to propose a new party game (never mind the fact that I am the absolute definition of a square: never drank, smoked, did elicit drugs, or did, um, other things before I was married–unlike vampires, people like me do exist outside the realms of fiction). Where was I? Oh, yeah, party game. It’s pretty simple. Get a copy of Twilight. Every time someone glares at someone, take a drink. Every time Edward’s eyes smolder, remove an article of clothing.
You’d be drunk and naked in five minutes.
Really, to quote Hermione Granger, this book has “the emotional range of a teaspoon.” The story line was good enough (although, in both books, I find myself constantly wishing she would just get to the point already, since it is usually pretty obvious what is going to happen). Would I have continued to the second book of my own volition after reading the first? I don’t know. I did continue so that someone couldn’t accuse me of not getting it since I hadn’t read them all. From second book to third, though? Yeah, I’d go for it on my own.
But, two books in, I just don’t get the obsession with Edward. Well, let me revise that. I kind of get my sister’s obsession with him, just not anyone else’s. I now get (to a degree) why she keeps walking around saying “My husband is soooooo a vampire.” Pale skin, muscle-y, a little, um, uptight (ok, I’ve decided that Edward’s reaction to sunlight could just be evidence of a diamond factory up an orifice…). Basically, all of the things that I teased would not qualify my brother-in-law as a good candidate for longish hair and yellow contacts are actually the things that he has in common with Edward. Who knew?
And I suppose there is something to be said for the whole passionate, one-true-love thing (even though I had to call my mother and ask her if she would ever reveal her deepest, darkest, mythological secret to someone she couldn’t stop glaring at). And if you have dreams of being the damsel in distress…
And there’s the problem. I don’t. Get outside of the sexual tension bit, and the way Edward acts towards Bella actually kind of annoys me. First (and you can form whatever impression of me that you want to from this), I couldn’t handle being with someone who was better than me at everything. Yuck. How annoying. I would always feel very–small. And I don’t like feeling small, unless we are speaking in a physical sense.
Which brings me to Jacob.
If this book weren’t written to stack the odds in Edward’s favor, I think that Jacob would be the more appealing choice.
Hear me out. First, the physical aspects. They are both supposed to be pretty gorgeous in their own way (although, again, dark-skinned and burly is more appealing to me). But, come on, which would you rather snuggle up to? Cold and hard, or warm and soft (but still very muscular)?
Yeah, me too.
And if you had to chose how you would be endangering your life by being in love, which would you go for? The possibility of being ripped apart when you ticked him off, or the risk of being eaten alive every time you got him, um, excited?
Come on, if Edward really makes you that excited, you can see where this is a real catch-22 situation. Personally, after nine years of marriage, I would rather feel like I shouldn’t make my husband mad than that I shouldn’t make him horny. Just sayin’.
The big thing to me, though, is how they treat Bella. Bella, who is ridiculously, unbelievably uncoordinated and accident-prone. By all accounts, she should be looking about like Sally from The Nightmare Before Christmas by now.
When Bella starts trying to live her life again (albeit in a reckless sort of way), she constantly hears Edward’s voice in her head, telling her how stupid she is being. In contrast, Jacob is right there with her, taking part in the adventure and driving her to the emergency room. Jacob is being a friend. Edward (disembodied and imagined though he may be) is being a nag.
I just don’t get the swooning.
So there you have it–my discourse on the books. Sean would be rolling his eyes if he knew I put this much effort into giving my opinion on them (he doesn’t even want to try to understand the fascination that seems to surround these books). But that’s ok.
Because I’ve already told him he is soooo a werewolf.