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I picked up the Twilight audio book before Thanksgiving to listen to on my drive to DC and was enthusiastic about it given that many of my friends had read and become nearly obsessed with the series (including a colleague of mine). Isabella Swan moves from her home in Phoenix to live with her father in Forks, Washington, and must deal with the typical teenage problems of being a clumsy dancer and infrequent dater while also adjusting to her new environment, the weather, and a new school. The story is primarily a teenage romance between Bella and Edward Cullen, a pale but gorgeous boy who possesses superhuman powers and has a strange ability to understand more than what is on the surface. Bella soon suspects that Edward and his family are vampires and also discovers that Edward can read minds (except for her own, which isn’t explained in this installment). Bella and Edward struggle with danger and the idea of safety–both issues teeter-totter throughout the book until Bella’s safety truly is in danger from a visiting clan of not-as-friendly vampires.

Bella begins interestingly enough. She is endearingly clumsy, but not at all socially awkward. She makes friends more easily than she realizes and despite her constant self-awareness, she rarely does anything to embarrass herself (maybe because of her self-awareness). Her clumsiness seems less about her personality or character than it seems a convenient device for humor. She is strong-willed, independent, and a take-charge girl, especially when it comes to helping out her father with chores and cooking or rebuking the romantic advances of her male classmates. That is, until she meets Edward and she melts into an unremarkable, shapeless mess of submission. I have no problem with the fact that it’s a proclaimed tale of abstinence or with the way it takes these two angst-filled teenagers slowly progress through the physical depictions of the plain-as-day sexual tension; however, I do have an issue with the role Bella plays in the relationship. One clear example: Bella literally faints when Edward kisses her. And she’s not even wearing a corset or starving herself as a Victorian female protagonist usually is when displaying this kind of pathetic behavior. She also faints when a classmate pricks his finger–yet she later suggests to Edward she wants to become a vampire; a vampire who faints from the prospect of eating? Do people still carry smelling salts with them in Forks? Meanwhile, Edward follows Bella around, even watching her as she sleeps, in clear stalker fashion; but Bella’s equally to blame–her every thought is about Edward and she depends solely on his ability to rescue her when she gets into trouble, which is quite often considering how smart and independent she is early on in the book. It’s still unclear by the end of the novel what Bella’s appeal is to Edward, who is clearly familiar with the obsessive, swooning adoration he receives from her. To the reader, there seems little else to set her apart.

I read a review that called Twilight “so unique it’s practically it’s own genre” — ever heard of Bram Stoker? Ann Rice? The Sookie Stackhouse novels? Vampire novels are certainly not new. They’ve been a fascination for authors and readers for a few hundred years. What sets Twilight apart? Twilight is for young adults, and it’s nowhere near being in the same league as its predecessors.

I’m obliged to include a list of a few pet peeves: The number of times Meyer uses some form of “uncountable” or “innumerable” to illustrate a large quantity–always in a vague manner. Meyer’s major preoccupation with detailing every little facial expression. The number of times Bella remarks on the weather. The number of times Bella and Edward preface a question with “Can I ask you a question?” and then struggle with the idea of actually answering before and after the question is asked. The number of moments where one is forced to suspend belief–and not just during Edward’s superhuman feats–to accept Bella’s relationship with her parents and their responses to what happens to her, the manner in which the Cullens are treated at school, the list goes on. This LiveJournal post–probably the most entertaining thing I’ve read in a long time–outlines quite a few ridiculous things about the book, including statistics that measure the number of times a character does something ridiculous, some interesting pondering about Meyer’s intentions (in a “What the heck was she thinking?” way), and a very amusing parody. I really hope you check it out–it does the book so much more justice (or injustice, I suppose?) than I have done.

A big problem I have is that Stephanie Meyer can write gorgeous, compelling prose, especially in her descriptions–consider, for example, the scene with Bella and Edward in the clearing in the woods. It’s well done. The problem is that Meyer is not consistent. She rushes most of her descriptions, leaving her readers with just barely enough to stimulate their own imaginations. And this book relies heavily on the reader’s inclination and ability to do just that.

What really killed this book for me was the dialogue. Don’t anyone tell me that the dialogue does not have to be interesting, nuanced, intelligent, or provoking simply because it’s a young adult novel. I’d argue that it’s worse to have bland, cliched dialogue in a novel whose audience is made up of young developing minds. It is universally acknowledged that books stimulate and shape vocabulary, tone, and structure in young readers (in older readers too!), so there is no real excuse for the pathetic lack of depth in Meyer’s words.

What also bugs me is how popular these books have become–I truly struggled to get through this book and I have no interest in continuing the series. I’m not sure what compels others or what draws them in. The teen angst? The number of characters to get to know? Meyer has clearly attracted the ideal audience: one that can make up the best parts of the book in their imagination and forgive her the rest. However, if nothing else, this series has attracted a lot of new readers and readers who pick up a book only occasionally. If it helps those people to continue to read, to pick up more books and become more interested in literature, then I’m glad for it. But if you read only one vampire book in your life, please don’t make this the one.

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