Guest Review by Jen Julian
Stephenie Meyer is not to be underestimated as a writer. With a few exceptions in which she lovingly details the Pacific Northwest, the ever-rainy setting for her vampire romance
Twilight, she is not afraid to embarrass herself with mawkish, overblown prose. She also possesses a talent for knowing her intended audience, and she exploits them constantly and without shame. This is not a novel to be read meticulously. In fact, I argue that it can only be enjoyed through either complete intellectual surrender or detached irony. Otherwise, it’s a grotesque read, with a bare-bones plot, an incorrigible subtext, and characters that are, at best, unlikable and, at worst, overt manipulations from the author.
The book’s seventeen-year-old protagonist, Bella Swan, is probably the best example of Meyer’s manipulative handiwork. Bella, the product of divorced parents, moves to Forks, Washington to live with her dad and meets dreamy, brooding vamp Edward Cullen at her local high school (that’s the basic plot, for those of you who’ve been living under a rock). A different protagonist could have made Twilight into a bearable or even meaningful young adult book. But Bella is not so much a character as she is an expertly designed placeholder for the reader. She fluctuates wildly from self-pity, to disdain, to blind rapture for the godly, often condescending Edward. Basically everything that she feels is unreasonable, though still somehow believable, given that she is exactly how a self-centered teenager would portray herself if inserted into a novel like this one. Bella is just nice enough that she doesn’t have to face confrontation, she never reciprocates to the high school peers that extend themselves to her, and on a whim she performs acts of unnecessary selflessness, the author’s way of reminding us that she is an innocent, sacrificial lamb. Never once does Meyer ask us to question this character’s behavior, and by the end of the novel, Bella has received everything she could possibly want with little effort. The appeal to teenage readers should be obvious.
Edward is also an overt manipulation, a beautiful, self-tormenting “vegetarian” vampire that abstains, both from sex and human blood. He does sparkle in the sun, literally, but this deviation from traditional vampire lore serves no purpose for the “plot” and is the least of
Twilight’s problems. Edward is madly in love with Bella but also holds a burning desire to eat her. He stalks her, sneaks into her room to watch her sleep, and consistently overpowers her both physically and emotionally. While the subtext is disconcerting, Meyer’s preferred message is clear: Edward is there as a protector. He is to protect Bella from everything, including her own rampant desires and the dangers that their relationship imposes. Young women just entering into the scary world of adulthood might find this kind of controlled relationship comforting. Combine that with Bella Swan’s inescapable relatability and you’ve got a legion of hypnotized fans.
Twilight is most enjoyed by teen girls and by adult women who have fond memories of their first high school crushes. It is particularly enjoyed by those who would prefer to remain as teenagers forever, as this is the kind of reward that Meyer’s novel offers. Edward is gorgeous, rich, powerful and immortal, and the adult world beyond him is portrayed as dull and insufficient. Most all characters, Bella’s high school friends, parents and teachers, are insignificant when up against Edward and his vampire family.
Twilight, on a whole, is the kind of novel that persuades women to remain locked up inside their heads, discouraging them from exploring the world of responsibility and adulthood. Meyer, something like the literary equivalent of Dr. Frankenstein, has tapped into an overflowing subconscious vein, and she has brought the hulking monster to life.
1.5/10 for the writing, 6/10 for the evil ingenuity
