I could probably spend several entries hashing back and forth the merits and shortcomings of Twilight (God knows I have annoyed friends/co-workers/The Boy about that beloved/be-shitted book). But it’s becoming a very tired subject on the internet, so I’ll send you out to do your own research. However, if I may, this site has some awesome Twilight snark.
All I can vouch for is the fact that I did not want to read the books, nor did I want to see the film, and I certainly wasn’t going to listen to the album. But I did all three and ended up feeling the same way every lover/detractor felt about Twilight: the glue used to bind those books must be infused with crack, because I cannot put them down.
Ask any literary critic (and casual fan), and they will admit – hell, even Meyer herself basically admitted – the writing in the series is damn near appalling. And word on the street is that in the fourth book, there are even continuity errors – this should not happen if you have a competent editor. You know me: I’m not one to accuse or anything, but hey, what exactly happened (or did not happen) in an effort to push this book into bookstores?
So, there’s no denying that Twilight is an affront to literature and writers – and I think Laura, Erica and I could totally spend hours supporting and tearing this book apart (yes, ladies, I am absolutely issuing a call to arms).
But the thing that I find most displeasing about this whole Twilight “thing” is that it makes me want to come out of fan-fiction retirement, “rewrite” the book and mail it back to Stephanie Meyer with a note that says, “Next time, please…just don’t.”
I had no idea I could/would ever come out of fan-fiction retirement – do you see what you do to me, Stephanie Meyer? Do you?
