Sunlight on Morning Wood
Today a flood of repressed memories seized me. I was sitting somewhere. Alone. There were books scattered about. They were bad, bad books, but like a junkie, I couldn’t stop going for the next fix. It was like these books were my own brand of bourbon flavored cocaine and I was ready for my next, uh, let me go to thesaurus.com and look up a synonym for fix, because I’m really sheltered and I think talking about drugs makes me cool. Fasten? Bind? Revamp? Anchor? Yeah, anchor, ready for my next anchor. There was a reason for reading these books. What was it? Why? Couldn’t I have gleaned the knowledge from another source?
The sweat beads rolled off my brow like I’d just eaten a bunch of really spicy chicken wings after being so awesome and mature and dark and brooding that the waitress at the wing place brought me my order of spicy wings. Then it hit me – the motherfucking Twilight series.
We’ve traversed this road several times now and soon it shall be over. For now, though, I’m dragging you, my good readers, down this path of pure evil with me yet again. Sure sure, the good part is that Stephanie Meyer is a traditional sort who does expect more of young women than whoredom and isn’t shy about her love of men who are decisive and aloof, but that’s about where the good ends. I was way too kind in my first dissection, though I was thorough. Now it is time for fisticuffs.
It’s at this point in a normal review where the writer would insert the phrase Spoiler Alert. I’ll go with that convention but in an unconventional way. Surely you aren’t as twisted as I am and will not allow yourself to get sucked into the Twilight vortex, like one of those drug user people smithing for the next fasten. Read on, read on.
Slightly off topic, I once saw a dude awith a “Team Edward” bumper sticker on his car. Guy in his 40’s, mustache, no tint on the windows so I’m guessing the bumper sticker wasn’t a nefarious ruse. Whether it was his sticker or whether he let his daughter, or son, put it on the car, it was there, alone on his bumper. I need an anonymous platform from which to admit I read that shit. This jackass is driving around advertising it.
Back to spoiling the bespoiled. ‘Tis true that people who matured early in the 20th century were a bit different about sex, but the times they have a-changed. Vampire seems to have bought into a large number of those changes. Moreover, he considers himself destined for hell. Am I really supposed to buy that he’s keeping on the purity ring? Maybe it’s a special ring hand-delivered by the Easter Bunny, in which case I guess that would up the motivation. Still, when the most unbelievable part of your vampire/werewolf saga is the 100 year old virgin, well, I guess I have to give credit. That’s one hell of an accomplishment.
Of course, I cannot forget this other fairy-tale nugget . Vampire leaves at one point, never to return, after a paper cut almost causes one of his vampire clan to get real and eat the girl, most special snowflake that she be. Girl then starts spending all her free time with werewolf. He’s tall, dark, and handsome. He’s alpha in the most literal sense of the concept. Alpha werewolf is his genetic heritage and alpha of the pack is his destiny. She’s obviously tingly for him, though she prefers aloof vampire over available werewolf because the supernatural suitor on the other side of the looking glass is always more alpha than the supernatural suitor you’re cuddled up with. The werewolf does make some let’s just be friends mistakes, but girl inexplicably remains oblivious to her wet tingles until moments before vampire comes swooping back in because she’s choking on a tater tot or another vampire is close to killing her or he realized he was really horny or some other such shit. I did manage to tune some of the static out. It’s realistic that the girl isn’t realistic about her options, but at some point the alpha who is still around is going to win and that point is not that far down the primrose path. Meyer’s quite unimaginative when it comes to lizard-brain motivation and conflict resolution.
In fact, in Meyer’s world of competing clans of vampires and werewolves, there is surprisingly little battle or action or even anything that occurs outside of girl’s head. Almost everything is resolved through talking. Toward the end of the final book, to use the word book generously, there’s a huge group of vampires on one side, a huge group of vampires plus some werewolves on the other, and nothing happens. Nothing. Nada. Zip. Zilch. They growl, they stare, but they just walk away after talking about their differences and deciding the feud can continue without battle because a battle might mess up their hair.
Somewhere prior to this non-action, the vampire and the girl get married, they consummate the unholy union, during which he destroys the bed, though surprisingly not by launching her through the bottom when 100 years of build-up gains release, she gets covered in bruises, she gets pregnant with a hybrid vampire baby, alpha werewolf gets really upset and still tries to woo her, vampire tries to convince her to abort vampire baby and get pregnant with werewolf’s kid because the hybrid thing is killing her from the inside, she refuses, baby rips her way out, girl gets turned into a vampire, bizarre sexless love blossoms between fast growing and fast maturing vampire hybrid baby and werewolf (I can’t even touch this one), and everyone prepares for the giant aforementioned battle that never happens. Then they all live happily ever after. At least, happily ever after until Meyer runs out of ideas for new stories and returns to the vampires who want to kill the other vampires and releases book 5. I’m sure they still won’t kill each other.
Now this darkness is in my past, save the flashbacks. The sun shall again rise and I can move on to more important things, like my testes and the things that they and my penis most enjoy. Still, the stink of Twilight is on me. I have to do something drastic. I have to get beyond the final anchor I attached in furious, sweaty jonesing. Perhaps I shall catch Penelope in the driveway and give her, and the neighbors, a glorious display of my prowess.
This is an update of a post originally published in January 2010 and again in November 2011. As the final installment has premiered, I’m bumping it back up for a final run.