Twilight by Stephanie Meyer
By Zara Alexis D. Garcia-Alvarez / @ZaraAlexis
Author: Stephanie Meyer
Format: Hardcover, 544 pages
Publisher: Little & Brown
Pub Date: October 5, 2005
Despite its flat, non-literary prose, its vague and immature description of what would normally be considered a fascinating subject about vampires who are repetitively described as “perfect” and “god-like,” as well as the obvious ordinariness of a girl who is neither described as anything more than a klutzy, awkward, falsely humble newcomer to a small town with dependent, obsessive tendencies, and the overbearing cliché of supposed “romantic” dialogue—well, if you can forgive all these things and appreciate what the book can deceptively offer—you may enjoy and understand the easy mania that surrounds the novel (and its movie counterpart).
It is not only the plight of the vampire-human relationship that is obviously restrained by physical, “cultural,” and “species-specific” norms—though the incessant mood-swings and dialogue shifts are quite irritating because they happen so often, perhaps to emphasize the tension created in desiring an illogical and unhealthy relationship (and when I say unhealthy, I mean, downright dangerous)—it’s the dichotomy of supernatural power and ordinariness; the power of legend, fantasy, and fear; and the impassioned, illogical, yet insatiable emotion that seems to attract most readers to the book.
It is a book about our “diabolical” and often repressed hunger and raw instinct found in beauty, desire, passion, lust, power, and tormented love—with the need to deny our very selves in order to enjoy self-preservation—coupled with affection and tenderness. Ideally, that would be a fine balance, if not a fantasy.
What this book allows is the explosion and the exploration of these feelings, which are not readily accepted in “civilized” society and the norms we’re called to be a part of. The romance is extreme in nature, yet ironically, intrinsically human in its basest form. The dark in us. The beauty. The imaginative desire to be more than we are. Even the desperate stupidity.
Would I date and commit myself to something risky and dangerous? Debase myself to become something else in the name of so-called love? Maybe. Perhaps you would, too—or probably already have. We all have by some small degree, chosen by rebellion, a love by nature that would inevitably be unhealthy for us. Possibly even dangerous. (I may be going a little far with that, but you haven’t met my ex-boyfriends.)
By whatever name we choose to call it: vampire, the werewolf, the Cold Ones—the thing we fear, yet desire—its danger, our aphrodisiac—is and can sometimes be our counterpart, our opposite, and our insatiable need to be fulfilled with an answer.
(But then again, if you’re a teenage girl who’s just recently been afflicted with hormones, how would you be able resist a luminous man literally “sparkling” in the sun????)
You’re either Team Edward or Team Jacob. Either way, someone’s salivating or bleeding. Take your pick. Blood lust for romance (or Robert Pattinson’s good looks) is out there. Under the rainy sky of Forks, Washington and the whole bewildered universe that is pre-teen.
Okay, I’ll admit it.
Pre-teen and cool moms.
What do you find most fascinating about vampires?