I've knocked off three Twilight books in three days. I've reached a number of conclusions, most of which will have to wait for The Atlantic piece that I'm embarked on this crazy project for in the first place. But there are a few things. First, Stephenie Meyer should be taxed for her excessive use of the word "bleak" and its variants. It's just one example of her rather painful lack of creative and writerly imagination, but it really starts to get hilarious after a while. She doesn't have the John Grisham problem (and gift) where the prose is entirely pedestrian, but the plotting is lean, economical, and compelling. Things plod in Forks, Wash. Second, she's much, much better with werewolves than vampires: there's a coherent mythology and explanation of the magic involved, and the werewolves are actual characters, while the vampires aren't. I sort of wish Meyer had written a novel focusing on the pack, rather than on the Cullens, who are monstrous only in their dullness. And if I cared at all, I would so be on Team Jacob. And third, the sexual politics of the novel are so, so much stranger than I ever imagined. Obviously, more to come. I'm exceedingly excited to start ripping into these novels in long form. But until then, Taylor Swift's SNL skit parodying Twilight is what's keeping me sane.
Hold out hope for me, too, while you're at it.