Impulses of Rain and Morning Reflections on Lestat...

I'm giving up on weather reports. I've said similar things before but I think this time, it's time. I think even the Fox 19 weather man is giving up on trying to get it right and instead is concentrating on really pretty ways to say he doesn't know. We've supposedly supposed to have had three days of thunderstorms so far. So far, we've had three days of cloying humidity, beating-hot sun and puffy white clouds. I think it might have rained a little here where I work but where I live, there's been no rain.

Today, the weatherman said, "There might be little impulses of rain throughout the day depending on where you are."

I found this to be rather hilarious. First of all "Impulses of Rain" sounds like either an Indie rock band or an Oprah-esque novel. Second of all, to me, what it really sounded like he was saying was that it might rain. Somewhere. If it's not raining where I am, it might going to rain somewhere else.

I noticed on Monday, he was rather gung-ho about the storms, we were definitely going to get them. As the week is progressing, he's looking a little more dejected as though he can't believe he has to say the same thing when he knows that he's probably wrong.

I suppose I can't blame him. He's probably not doing his own meteorological reports. He's probably pulling them off the wire. So it's not his fault and I should probably feel sorry for him because he knows that he's probably wrong. It has to be hard on your self-esteem.

So, while I await for the pattern of thunderstorms I've been told to expect, I'm now currently squinting a little because the sun is now pouring in through my basement window. Sometimes, I feel a little like I'm below deck of a ship because we have this little glass blocks above us that are supposed to feel like windows but do little more than let us see if it's daylight or night. Unless it's the morning and then we sit for a short period of times, trying to ignore the glare as the sun rises up into the sky.

It's one of those days that needs a big storm. The humidity is out of control and it's making everyone feel sluggish and bad-tempered. I'm not just projecting. I think there's definitely something in the air on days like this that affects us as humans. The pressure builds in the atmosphere and we feel it.

I know I'm trying to fight the urge to be snappy and irritable. I'm not the only one; I've noticed my coworkers feeling the same way. It's silly, for me, the things that seem to put me in a bad mood. On my way to work this morning, I passed by a gas station and as I did so, a car decided to pull out and cut me off, forcing me to slam on my brakes. Not only did she cut me off and scare the crap out of me, she decided she didn't like the fact that I had to tailgate her as a result of her sudden movement and rather than speed up, she chose to drive at 25 miles an hour until I pulled back.

I confess, when people tailgate me, this is the exact same thing I do. I slow right down and irritate them to the point that they sheepishly give me some space. It works almost all of the time. Then I accelerate back up to a good, sensible law-abiding speed. They can either pass or follow suit.

However, with the girl this morning, it wasn't like I had any choice! She cut me off with such a short amount of space that by the time I'd braked, I was a little too close to her for comfort.

I'm hoping this is just a bad week for commuting, not a sign of things to come. Next week, the kids around here start back up with school which means the added bonus of morning school buses. I'm not sure if that will affect me but, if it does, you'll hear about it.

I think the reason I get so frustrated with bad drivers in the mornings is that, as I've mentioned, my commute is my meditation time, my time to just relax, reflect and enjoy the beautiful country. I like it to be a reliable thing. With bad drivers factored in, my reflection time is considerably reduced. I don't like that.

Still, I better get used to it. At least this morning, until I got cut off, I did get to reflect. Sadly, my thoughts were not terribly deep, they were, actually, rather shallow and dumb. You see, yesterday, I heard that, in the wake of the current vampire trend, Hollywood is now considering reviving Anne Rice's greatest vampire creation: The Vampire Lestat.

As I mentioned in several prior blogs, I hold Anne Rice up to be one of the best vampire writers out there, at least in her earlier books. She was an original creator of the romantic vampire, the sexy, 'rockstar' vampire, the brooding vampire. Without Anne Rice, we'd have no Buffy the Vampire Slayer, no Twilight and no Sookie Stackhouse novels.

The problem I have is that Hollywood doesn't seem to 'get' Lestat. This was clear when they cast Tom Cruise in Interview with the Vampire. While I think Tom Cruise tried really hard he....wasn't Lestat. Hollywood tried again with Queen of the Damned, casting a more unknown actor, Stuart Townsend, as Lestat. He was closer but the film was so terrible, it wasn't worth watching.

Now....it's Robert Downey Jr. who has seems to be wanting to play the character. I love Robert Downey Jr. I think he's an amazing actor. I've liked him for many years, from his earliest roles in Less than Zero to his recent comeback as one of Hollywood's best. I still think one of my favourite roles of his was in Heart and Souls, a cute romantic comedy that still makes me smile. He was good in such formulaic crap as Only You. He was good in Natural Born Killers. He's just a good actor.

Recently, I've been excited to see him play roles like Tony Stark in Iron Man. It suits him and he's fun to watch.

But...I think it's safe to say, dear Robert, back away from Lestat. Back away.

You see, Lestat is immortal because, well, duh, he's a vampire. He's also written to be devilishly handsome with a side of sociopathy. He's also...quite young.

Robert Downey Jr. is not as young. That's why he's as good as he is. I love him as Tony Stark, the rich, attractive business man with a world-weary streak and a penchant towards alcoholism. I think he's going to make an excellent Sherlock Holmes, his dry with and deadpan humour perfect for the role.

But...Lestat? Really? I think, Mr. Downey Jr. that maybe it's time to take a step back. We know you're the hottest actor in Hollywood right now. We know you're very talented and are picking great roles but I think this time, you can take a pass.

I just can't see Lestat being in his forties. It just doesn't work for me. The closest I've ever seen to the Lestat I pictured in the books is Eric from True Blood. Eric is very Lestat-ian. He's ruthless, sexy, cruel and funny. But...I like him as Eric. I'm just saying that I think he's the closest the screen has come to getting Lestat right and he's not even playing Lestat.

So, perhaps you can see why the Robert Downey Jr. picture in my mind as Lestat is a wee bit...ridiculous. I'd like to be convinced otherwise but I'm rather afraid that once again, the attempt to bring Anne Rice's novels to life is going to fall a little flat in the attempt to make it a big Hollywood attempt.

Wow...I'm rambly today. I apologize, once more. As I've said, sometimes when I sit down to blog, I don't always know what I'm going to say. Today, it rather got away from me. That's what happens when I don't get smooth morning reflection time. Here's to tomorrow and hoping for an easier commute.

Happy Wednesday!

Sookie Stackhouse: Now Those are REAL Vampires...

This week is going fast. I rarely say that but, for once, it's true. Maybe it's because I bought a house, maybe it's because it's busy at work suddenly but...whatever it is, it's already Wednesday and the week is almost half over.

Sometimes it seems like the week is going too fast, like I get home from work, work out, make dinner and it's almost time for bed. Of course, that may be because I'm having fun reading at the moment and I love to go to bed early and read until I'm ready for sleep. I think I mentioned that I'm working my way through the Sookie Stackhouse Southern Vampire series at the moment. I'm on book five already. They're so easy and fun to read, I'm having to pace myself. I feel like, suddenly, it's ok to like vampires again.

I've always liked vampires. I used to read this series when I was young called "The Little Vampire" by Angela Somer-Bodenburg. They were about a vampire child named Rudolph who was too young to drink human blood but was from a family of ancient vampires. He introduces his family to Tony, his new human friend and, naturally, adventures ensue. After that series came Dracula, naturally and then Anne Rice. I loved the first four books in the Vampire Chronicles. I read the ones that she wrote after those and with each one, the mysterious, romantic and erotic world she created began to suddenly be beyond ridiculous. Lestat lost his sexy bad-boy appeal and became almost as whiny as Louis, the narrator of Interview with a Vampire.

Then I stopped reading vampire books for a while. There was plenty of other fiction out there. Sure, I read Salem's Lot, Stephen King's rather creepy foray in the vampire genre. I played vampire video games with my brother, Dracula Unleashed being our favourite. Yet I stopped searching for vampire fiction.

Then, of course, came Twilight and it's subsequently and increasingly awful sequels. While I've blogged about the fact that, if I'd been a sixteen year old girl, I'd have probably liked the novels more, I'm not a sixteen year-old and thus I think the novels are pretty awful. I've blogged about the books already and why I think they're awful so I won't go into that again. Yet, I can safely say, now I'm reading Charlaine Harris' Sookie Stackhouse series, I can point my finger at Stephanie Meyer and say, "Lady, did you think of ANYTHING original?"

Sookie's been around a fair bit longer than Bella, the whinier, more helpless heroine of the Twilight series. She's a telepath whereas in Twilight, Edward Cullen is the telepath. Sookie doesn't have many friends because people are freaked out by her mind-reading ability. Bella doesn't have many friends because she's annoying and whiny and falls in love with a vampire because there's not much else to do in rainy Forks. Sookie's boss and sometimes-crush is her boss, Sam who happens to be a shapeshifter and proves himself a loyal friend to Sookie. Bella's friend, Jacob, is a loyal friend to Bella and also happens to be a werewolf. That is, to say, in the first three books, he's a werewolf. In Breaking Dawn, Stephanie Meyer decides he and his co-werewolves are now shapeshifters because, well, why not arbitrarily change a character at the last minute?

I could continue on. There are more than a few more similarities between the books. In the very first book of the Sookie series, Dead Until Dark, Sookie describes how the vampires skin seems to glow, how the vampires are all beautiful. It turns out that it makes it much easier to get human prey that way. Interestingly enough, in Twilight, the vampires are described as having glowy skin and are stunningly beautiful because, you know, it makes it easier to get prey that way. I'll give Meijer kudos for getting around that pesky traditional " the sun kills vampires" lore; in her books, the sun makes the vampires sparkle "like they've been dusted with diamonds" and that's why they have to stay out of it because otherwise humans would realize they were vampires.

I know that, really, much of Charlaine Harris' vampire/supernatural creature lore is not original. Vampires are cold because..they're dead. Werewolves run hotter than humans because...they're part wolf and plenty more. Yet Harris presents it in such a fun, matter-of-fact way that you can almost believe there are vampires, shapeshifters, werewolves and fairies hiding in the moss-dripping trees of the Louisiana Bayou.

The other thing about her books is that...they're sexy. I'm not faulting Stephanie Meyer for the fact that her books are rated PG that even the pillow-tearing, headboard-breaking 'sex scene' has all the sensuality of a Victorian teaparty. It's nice that she can give our over-sexed teenagers something to obsess over that isn't about sex but is about love.

Yet, I'm not a teenager and I quite like reading a good sex-scene and, let me tell you, Charlaine Harris is the queen of the good sex-scenes. I never much cared for Bill, Sookie's vampire boyfriend, because I thought him a wee bit drippy yet in bed, I quite liked Bill. Of course, then there's Eric. I had to turn the air conditioning on when I got to book four because, let me tell you, it might not be literature but it is fun. And really, really...uh....hot.

I realize my mother reads my blog. Fortunately, my mother doesn't seem to get shocked when I bring up sex as I do every so often. So I don't think she's going to say, "Captain Monkeypants, I raised you better than that!" Also, she and my dad watch True Blood, the HBO adaptation of the novels so she knows what they're about. I'm going to loan them to her, in fact.

So, anyway, I guess the purpose of today's blog is to recommend the Sookie books if you're into fun reads. I have to give credit to two friends (and loyal blog readers) who recommended I read them. You know who you are...and I thank you both, Mrs. Future Texan and Mrs. Likes-Twilight-a-Little-Too-Much-But-You're-Completely-Forgiven-For-Sending-Me-Your-Sookie-Stackhouse-Books.

Granted, the books aren't at the level of, say, Jane Austen but even she has been adapted to fit the modern world with Pride and Prejudice and Zombies. Is it too hard to imagine Mansfield Park Full of Vampires or Sense and Sensibility And Fangs? I, personally, don't think so. Also, I think that would be intriguing. Probably horribly wrong...but intriguing.

Happy Wednesday.

Stephen King vs. Stephanie Meyer

So, yesterday, there was a slightly 'big' controversy in the writing world. I say 'big' because depending on how much you care about either author involved, it may have slipped by unnoticed. However, if you're like me and you like to read, there's very little chance you haven't heard of either Stephen King or Stephanie Meyer.

Now, for those of you new to my blog, it's no secret that I dislike the writings of Stephanie Meyer immensely. Ok, so dislike might not be a strong enough word based on what I've written in the past. I think it's pretty obvious that I think the Twilight books are badly written rip-offs of much better author's works. I've been nice in giving Meyer respect for at least getting young people to read. Although now I might have to amend even that nicety a little because, frankly, the obsessee's of Twilight aren't exactly going out to the library or Borders and looking for other books. They're just rereading all of Meyers' books over and over again. There comes a point where that stops being reading and just starts being scary.

In case you haven't heard of Stephanie Meyer, the Twilight series is a four-part series of novels about a perfect boy who turns out to be a vampire and a very normal girl who inexplicably becomes the desire of the vampire. The series encompasses themes such as being so in love, you're willing to kill yourself because your love left you. Also, a theme that love conquers all, especially life because Bella, the heroine, spends three and a half books pining for Edward, our hero, to kill her so she can join him in eternity. She's seventeen. She has a loving family. Yet she still wants to turn herself into a bloodsucking beauty just so she can stay with Edward. Then she eventually marries the vampire, has his baby in an extremely gruesome manner and gets turned into a vampire because it was the only way to save her life. Oh, also, Bella's best friend (who started out as a werewolf but then became a Shapeshifter because Meyer couldn't make up her mind) is in love with Bella so there's a love triangle going on. Except when Bella and Edward's baby is born, the terribly-named Renesme, Jacob falls in love with baby because that's what shapeshifters/werewolves do- they imprint on a person, no matter how old, and mate for life.

Ok, so that might be a teensy bit editorialized but, I promise, the plotlines in the paragraph above are all true. Every last one of them.

Anyway, so that's a little about Ms. Meyer. Now, about Stephen King. Yesterday, a quote was published from him regarding Stephanie Meyer for an interview he did with USA Today:

"The real difference is that Jo Rowling is a terrific writer and Stephenie Meyer can't write worth a darn," he said. "She's not very good."

Naturally, Meyer fans are in an uproar. The mud is flying, people are accusing Stephen King of being the pot to Meyers' kettle, i.e he can't write either.

I beg to differ. Ok, so Stephen King's books of late haven't been particularly gripping. Ok, so he said he was going to retire a couple of times but...hasn't. And yes, his earlier books were WAY better than his later ones (which may or may not have been linked to his alcohol/substance abuse problems from back in the day.) I'm not saying that he was a better writer when he was drunk or high but....well....those books were better. However, Stephen King has some amazing credits to his name. He can also write and he can write well.

Personally, I can't even fathom how people can even dare say that King can't write any better than Meyer. To say so is almost a crime. Whether you like horror or fantasy or not, doesn't mean that Stephen King can't spin an amazing tale. When he wants to, King's writing can be beautiful and poetic. His characters are three dimensional and compelling. He can make you laugh with a simple phrase such as "he stared at him as though he'd just suggested he use the Arc of the Covenant as a pay toilet". That may be slightly misquoted but it's one of my all time favourite literary quotes. I think it might be from It but I actually don't know. All I know is that it stuck with me.

I'm not saying that Stephen King is perfect. After all, my mother, who used to read his books and enjoy them can no longer read his works because he was arrogant enough to write himself into the last of his Dark Tower series. I admit, this was a gutsy move. I actually didn't mind that at all, I had more of an issue with the syrupy, sugary ending he gave his Susannah character. With that, he let me down, proving that even the toughest, most brutal writers can give in to sentiment. Stephen King: if you're going to kill two of my favourite characters from the Dark Tower books, do not DARE to try to bring them back for a happy ending. I mourned them both and was ok with that. Bringing them back was cheating and it should never have happened.

Yet if you look at Stephen King's record vs. Stephanie Meyer, I don't think anyone can question the fact that King is the much better of the two authors. For one thing, have you looked at his sales figures? Secondly, have you read his books? My favourite is still Black House which was a joint effort with Peter Straub but, as a King fan, I can see his writing and his influence on the book and it's brilliant. The Waste Lands, the third of the Dark Tower series, is one of the best fantasy books ever written, in my opinion.

Yet it's not a question of who's the better writer. That's obvious. Also, I think King was absolutely right to declare J.K. Rowling a far superior writer to Meyer because she is. I am sick to death of the Twilight vs. Harry Potter debate. It's like comparing Star Wars to Starship Troopers. They might both be entertaining but one is a cinematic classic...the other is a piece of crap that might entertain but at the end of the day, has giant bugs and some terrible acting.

I suppose I'm just happy that, once again, Stephen King has seconded an opinion I've had for a while. He did that with Dan Brown's DaVinci Code, calling it a piece of "dreck". I'd been calling it that for ages. It's nice to have someone who usually writes rather well not afraid to say what he thinks instead of patting Stephanie Meyer on the head and saying "good girl" instead of saying "you're a bad writer who ripped off Anne Rice."

And, as a writer, it's also nice to feel validated. I used to wonder how Stephanie Meyer got past the rejection letters since her writing is so....mediocre. Then I found out a friend of her's was a writer and hooked her up with an agent. Some of us aren't that lucky. We keep writing and our writing improves but we have no published friends.

Yet at least there are published authors like Stephen King to stand up for good writing until we can get our start. And, for that, I say thank you, Mr. King. I'll even consider reading some of your newer books again.

Happy Thursday.

Why I Once Would have Loved Twilight: The Obsessive Nature of Captain Monkeypants

I've always been a creature of phases. And I don't mean that like I'm a werewolf or anything but, rather, that I've always had a bit of an obsessive personality. Ever since I was a child, I've had a tendency to get stuck on something and it becomes my most favourite thing in life.

For example, one of my earliest obsessions was with a British children's author named Enid Blyton. As an avid reader anyway, I discovered that she had hundreds of books. They were books about boarding schools, fantasy lands that could be found at the top of trees, child detectives, mysteries and even had my most favourite character: Noddy. Noddy was a little elf-like thing whose best friend was the grumpy Big Ears. I used to call him "Biggy Ears" before I knew better. I absorbed Enid Blyton's books like a sponge: I used to go to the library and come home with a stack of five books, all by her. I wanted to go to boarding school, to have midnight feasts, to do all the things her characters did. Actually, I've always had a sneaking suspicion that J.K. Rowling, author of Harry Potter, also read her share of Enid Blyton when she was younger. There are definitely some good Blyton-esque scenes in her books, especially the earlier ones before the world of Hogwarts got too dark.

Anyway, my obsession got to the point where, I believe, a teacher even told my mother that I should probably read something else to give me some variety. You see, I didn't know it then but Enid wasn't, um....a good writer. She tended to use the same words over and over and being as young as I was, I didn't realize how dated her books were, even when I was a child.

Sadly, I got my hands on some Enid Blyton books fairly recently, books that I'd loved as a child about St. Clare's school. I was horrified. They were terrible. They were full of terms like "fiddlesticks" and "golly gosh" and they were absolutely horrendously written. Needless to say, I was mildly crushed that such a staple of my youth wasn't the paragon I believed her to be. Yet she'd given me an impetus to read voraciously as a young 'un and there was value in that.

My obsessions continued. They veered in music in which I am now sort of embarrassed to admit I was a huge Wham! fan and was in love with George Michael. Ok, I'm more than sort of embarrassed. Hey, I was ten. We didn't know he was gay then. My best friend and I would had recorded two Wham! videos- "Careless Whisper" and "Wake Me Up Before You Go-Go" (and yes, ok, I know technically "Careless Whisper" was a solo effort by George but that's irrelevant to my story). We would run home at lunch EVERY DAY and watch them. My poor mother- she had to suffer through that. Sorry, mum. Really.

From Wham! I moved on bouncing from films to television to books and back to music. I went through a heavy metal period in my teens, wearing the black band shirts and thinking I was cool because I liked hair bands. Again, hindsight is 20-20 but at the time, they were a metaphor for my painful awkward teen years. My friends and I would have lotteries to divide up who had 'custody' of a band for the week. Yes, again....I was an unhappy teen for a while but, then again, show me a happy one. As teens, we all think that we're misunderstood and unliked by our peers. It's only fifteen years later and you realize that all those people you thought hated you really were just as messed up and befuddled by life as you and suddenly they all want to be your Facebook friend.

Uh, sorry...I digress. After that phase, I changed friends. I think it's because I suddenly realized that life really didn't suck and I was just a dork in a black shirt listening to music from men more effeminate then me. I made new friends and started to listen to happier things like Andrew Lloyd Webber musicals.

It was a new phase. That one lasted me a while. During that phase, I also went through an Anne Rice phase in which I loved vampires again. I've always liked vampires but Anne Rice made them more romantic and less, you know, fangy and bloody. Phases can overlap, you know.

Since then, I've probably had a dozen more phases. I went through a huge Buffy the Vampire Slayer phases but, then again, that one is still ongoing merely because Joss Whedon, the writer and creator of the show is a genius and I will follow his creativity wherever he goes because he always keeps me amused, spellbound and fascinated by his ability to write and create such original stuff.

You may wonder why I'm telling you all this. My snarky answer is that it's my blog, I can tell you what I like. Surprisingly, however, I do have a point. This whole reverie was sparked by a visit to a bookstore this weekend in which I saw two teenage girls grabbing several copies of Stephanie Meyer's Twilight books and literally being so excited you could see them jumping up and down.

Surprisingly enough, given my past rants and blogs about Ms. Meyer, this isn't actually a tirade against her and her mediocre books. It's mostly because when I saw those teens being that excited over a book, I could relate to it. Maybe the reason I hate those books so much is because I know, as a teen, I, too, would have wanted to be Bella Swan with her sparkled-skin, bronze-haired hero to save her from her mundane life. I would have felt catharsis in Bella's unhappiness too. So I can't even mock them as I normally would. Mostly, I'm excited that they are that excited over a book. Ok, so I wish it was someone more deserving like Neil Gaiman, Celia Rees, J.K. Rowling or even Stephen King but, well, at least they're excited over a book of some kind.

The only thing that I wonder, especially as I surf the pages of the internet, is how those Twi-hards are going to feel in a few years. At the moment, every entertainment site I read likes to talk about the sequel to the blah Twilight movie and who will play who and if the new director will be good. With each online news story, there is room for comments and that space is filled with devoted love from Twi-hards about how amazing the movie will be, how much Robert Pattinson resembles the Edward in their head and all of that. Yes, I read them. I used to be a quasi-journalist- I'm a firm believer in reading the good as well as the bad.

The comments are often written in that annoying shorthand used for text messaging, so fluidly done that it's obviously a teen. They love their Twilight. They love Stephanie Meyer. They love the books so much that they've read them multiple times.

There's nothing wrong with that. Whatever gets 'em through the day.

Yet, as I mentioned, in a few years, when those devoted fans are a little better adjusted to life, when the awkward teen years are behind them and they find themselves becoming adults, will they really be able to go back to Twilight and see the same beauty and brilliance they see now? Or will it become one of those slightly embarrassing obsessions that got them through middle school or high school but now needs to be forgotten?

I can't answer that because I don't know. What I do know is that when I was fourteen, I read The Outsiders by S.E. Hinton. I fell in love with the book. I read it and reread it. I memorized the opening. I wondered what would happen if I met Ponyboy. I watched the movie. It wasn't great but I was willing to overlook that because there were Sodapop, Ponyboy and Johnny on the screen.

I reread that book a few years ago. I get why I loved it. It's the tale of a teen who doesn't fit in but eventually, after some crappy experiences, realizes that he has to stay true to himself. Something like that, anyway. I don't know why I could relate to it. I was from an unbroken, nicely stable, loving middle-class family- completely the opposite of any of The Outsider's characters. Yet I also cringed a little that I'd loved it as much as I had. I recognized that value it gave me in my teens but, as an adult, like any youthful obsession, I couldn't remember why I'd loved it to the point of obsession.

I suppose, maybe, The Outsiders was my Twilight. Minus the sappy romance and drippy descriptions, of course. I know now, having the hindsight and something resembling wisdom, that had I loved Twilight in my teens, it would now be one of those shelved memories along with Def Leppard, Bon Jovi and crushes on skateboarders who should have bathed more often. I'd be slightly embarrassed that I loved it but in a way, it made me who I am, for better or for worse. I like who I am now and that means everything. I hope those Twilight fans have a similar experience.

Sorry for the long blog but thanks, as always, for reading. Happy Wednesday.

Friends Don't Let Friends Read "Breaking Dawn"

So in my introductory blog, I mentioned that I will rant and rave and that I plan on doing it a lot. I think it only fair to begin with ranting about one of the worst books I've ever read in my entire life (and thus most likely spurn the wrath and argument of those that refuse to see the book in its true, non-sparkly light).

That books is Breaking Dawn by Stephanie Meyer, a writer who I absolutely guarantee will probably get more than one blog entry here. Mostly likely, Breaking Dawn will get more than one entry here. I can't help myself. It's too easy.

Let me explain. I started reading the "Twilight" series on the recommendation of a friend who has rather good taste in fiction. Being an (early) thirty-something, I was intrigued at first. Granted, I could see the Anne Rice-isms. I could see that it wasn't exactly Pulitzer Prize quality writing but I was entertained. Though I'm jaded and burned from the men of my past, I could see the draw of Twilight. Who didn't want their own gothic hero when they were sixteen? What girl wasn't Bella Swann, awkward, clumsy and completely unsure of herself when she was sixteen? Though I couldn't get passed the fact that Bella was huge drip with no real personality, I kept reading because I still understood the draw. Then I got to Eclipse and realized that Bella was pathetic and even if I'd been sixteen when I'd read these books, I would still have thought so. She wanted to kill herself because her guy had left. Her life was over. Don't get me wrong... I got her despair, I got her depression. Stephanie Meyer did that part well- I competely understood how Bella felt, not knowing why life had any meaning, not knowing why she should respond to the continuing life around her. It sucks when that happens...but it does. But I HATE that it happened to Bella because of a boy. I hate that, at the age of sixteen, maybe seventeen, this girl felt that she couldn't live without the love of a perfect man.

I kept going. New Moon was silly. It made me laugh and not for the right reasons. Truth is, I can't actually remember what happened though I know it involved Edward, Jacob (Bella's alternate love) and some vampire daftness. It was mostly Bella wanting to give up her life to become a vampire and be with her Edward forever- romantic but kind of dumb when you examine her life in detail (Cliff Note version: Her life wasn't bad. She had too parents who loved her, human boys who (for undefined reasons) were crazy about her and the hope of an educated future).

Then came Breaking Dawn. And it was bad. No...it was horrendous. It was the indulgent whim of a writer whose agent and publishing company who forgot that a book was for the readers and, instead, saw dollar signs instead of the words. This post is getting long- WAY longer than planned- which means I'll have to continue later. However, here's the truncated version of Breaking Dawn.

• Bella marries Edward. It's perfect.
• They go to a perfect island that is on loan from Edwards 'mother', Esme. It's perfect .
• Bella is still human yet she is so beguiling, she talks Edward into jumping her bones. They have sex and though it is supposed to be amazing, perfect and incredible, it is described with all the detail of a Victorian schoolmistress.
• She gets pregnant despite the fact that vampires supposedly can't procreate. Edward is afraid and wants to get rid of the baby.
• Bella decides not to discuss this with her husband and, instead, enlists the aid of Edward's 'sister' who, up until this book, has done little but glower at Bella and resent her for being human.
• The narration suddenly switches to that of a previously secondary character- Jacob- even though, for the first three books, Jacob has been in the shadows. Jacob hates Edward. A lot. He says so. A lot. He loves Bella. He says that a lot too.
• Bella is perfect during pregnancy even though she suffers greatly. She suffers silently because that is what Bella does. Her unborn child is too strong for her and almost kills her
• The birth of the child begins with Bella spewing a fountain of blood and thus setting up a grisly scene. The child is fighting her way out. Bella is a weak human. She is dying from the birth but, fortunately, Edward is nearby and eats through Bella's uterus with his teeth to save the child (and yes, you read that correctly). How romantic, eh?
• Bella MUST become a vampire or she'll die because, uh, the love of her life ate her uterus with his teeth and she's dying. This perfectly eliminates all those pesky "I can't turn you into a vampire because I'll be killing you!" doubts that Edward had until this moment. It's all rather convenient and noble of him to save her life by turning her into a vampire.
• When she becomes a vampire, Bella suffers in a very noble silence while she feels as though she's burning to death. She's in great pain but our heroine doesn't want to be a bother and so she just lets herself suffer quietly. After a few days, she's fine and ready to be a vampire.
• Bella becomes absolutely beautiful upon her vampire transformation. This makes up for the fact that she has a half-vampire daughter and her husband ate her uterus. Also, she's a near-perfect "newborn", strong, fast and yet doesn't crave human blood much despite the fact that even the strongest member of the Cullen family had a few years of bloodlust in which he couldn't be around humans. Bella doesn't need no stinking human blood.
• Bella's husband gives her a perfect cottage in the woods for the happy vampire/half-vampire family to live. The cottage belonged to Esme, the giver of all places perfect. (see: Isle Esme)
• The family live happily ever after because Bella singlehandedly takes on the evil vampires that threaten her family/friends and destroys them. Because she's perfect. And strong.
• Oh, and despite the fact that history has no recollection of any vampire/human pairings, there are, apaprently, quite a few half-vampires living in rainforests and quite happily not killing humans. They just didn't reveal themselves until now. They pick the perfect time.
• Oh, and uh, yeah- so not only does Bella and Edward's child have one of the worst names in the histories of fiction- Renesmee- but, uh, yeah, her 'uncle' Jacob, seventeen years older, is karmically intended to be the love of her life and mate with her forever. Tell me THAT doesn't have creepy "uncle Ernie" overtones.

That's it, in a nutshell. I'll write more later. I haven't even covered the major plot issues I have with Bella's father and his reaction to her becoming a vampire. Oh, and yes, the (over)use of the word "perfect" in my breakdown is intentional.

Breaking Dawn exhausts me. It's a wonderful exercise for us non-published writers in what NOT to do when you get the chance. Then again, it's probably a good exercise in what NOT to do, even if you are a published writer. But here's a tip- if you're gonna try to be romantic, having your beautiful hero tear his wife's uterus with his teeth is not, um, exactly endearing. It's actually rather disgusting and putrid. For the record, pedophilia is also gross, no matter how quickly your child grows up. I don't completely blame Ms. Meyer- I actually blame her publisher and agent just as much. This is a book that should have remained in a drawer for a year, or at least for long enough for Stephanie Meyer to reread the first three books in the series that she'd written, long enough for her to remember the personalities of the characters. Because, in all honesty, Breaking Dawn, in the opinion of Captain Monkeypants, is a disaster. It is a self-indulgent, piece-of-crap effort that wants money but cares little for the truism of the characters. Shame on you, Stephanie Meyer- listen to your characters, let THEM tell their story, don't try to give them the perfect little ending that YOU believe is right. You started their story, you should have let them end it.

But I'm tired...I'll elaborate on that later.