Chapter 10: Interrogations

217 pages in...

We're past the 200 pg mark. Yaaaaay. ::weakly flings confetti::

Chapter 10 features more cyclical banter between Edward and Bella, when Edward's car materializes out of the mist the next morning to take Bella to school. He gives her a "choice" (197) to say no (as if she could refuse him), and once at school, Bella finds herself cornered by Jessica, who naturally wants to know all the juicy details about what's going on between her and Edward. Then there's some really weird stuff about Edward reading Jessica's mind so that he can spy on Bella, an instance where Edward likens eating human food to eating dirt, and then goes more into detail about his hunting habits. (Um. He eats mountain lion. That's his favorite snack. God's truth.) Edward repeats his "I'm dangerous; stay away from me" song-and-dance and tells Bella that she needs "a healthy dose of fear" (216) for her own good, but Bella is as obsessive as always.

I'm going to do something a little different for this chapter. The CHARACTER/PLOT/LANGUAGE structure of my posts is starting to break down a little, mostly because these elements rely so heavily on one another, and I'm far enough into the novel now that those categories are deeply intertwined. Poorly-chosen language affects character development, unlikable or illogical characters affect plot development...etc. etc. On a prose level, Meyer chooses words that make me go "Whaaa?" such as in this chapter, when Edward "[shakes] his head in disgust" (213) when Bella criticizes his driving (Disgust? He's disgusted with her?), and in the previous chapter, when he is "appalled" (190) to see Bella crying. This is a language problem, but it also translates into a character problem, because these characters are depicted in such extremes that it's hard for me to take them seriously. Also, Bella has developed a heart murmur by being around Edward (193 and 197).

I could pick and pick and pick at small things like this, but this week, I'm going to try to broaden my scope. I'm going to talk about three glaring contradictions in this book that have been bothering me. Do people not see these contradictions, or do the contradictions actually work to the book's advantage?

So let's do this then.
This is the contradiction that bothers me the most. I'm being asked to see Edward as the most desirable thing in Bella's universe and the person with the most weight to bear. We know this because of an interaction Bella has with the bubbly (and frankly more likable) Jessica on pg 204.

"'[Edward] is unbelievably gorgeous.' Jessica shrugged as if this excused any flaws. Which, in her book, it probably did. [No irony here. None. Nada. Zip.]
'There's a lot more to him than that.'
'Really? Like what?' [Yes, Bella, by all means educate us on this matter]
...
'I can't explain it right [of course you can't]...but he's even more unbelievable behind the face.' The vampire who wanted to be good -- who ran around saving people's lives so he wouldn't be a monster..."

Okay. Yeah. Edward is good because he refrains from killing people and eating them. I think most of us can agree that non-serial-murder is a good deed. But what Bella purposefully overlooks in her statement is that Edward runs around saving BELLA, and I don't think he does that so that he won't be a monster; the story seems to want us to think it's because he's in love with her. He admitted as much himself: "I've never tried to keep a specific person alive before" (174), and I have a hard time imagining he's ever had the urge to save other people.

I know I shouldn't expect moral complexity from an escapist novel like this one, and I should feel good that Meyer has down the basics, like "Don't kill anyone." But as an upstanding non-serial-murderer, all Edward seems to do is wander around the school allowing everyone to absorb his attractiveness, feeling inexplicably protective about one other person, who's also kind of a waste of space.

Edward also has no reservations about reading people's personal thoughts. It's not even really a question of whether or not he should invade people's privacy in this way.

This one is less troubling to me because I understand Meyer's impulse. Edward complains to Bella about how "ostentatious" (199) his sister Rosalie's red convertible is and how his family usually tries to blend in. And there have been other moments when Edward seems oblivious to the way he "dazzles" other people, which I guess is supposed to be charming. "It's not your fault," Bella tells him. "You can't help it" (209).

But the thing is, he COULD help it to some degree. There's this tremendous issue about the crazy way Edward's family drives (apparently, Meyer doesn't understand that half of the reason you mind the speed limit is for the safety of OTHER people, not just yourself), dress (all designer labels), speak and carry themselves (Edward talks like he's from another century; I can't say anything for the others yet), and isolate themselves as a high-class, weird-looking clique. The way Alice pranced across the cafeteria in Chapter 1 and dumped her untouched food in the trash can alone would raise questions among the students at this school and make them curious.

These are all behaviors that Ed and Fam could correct if they really wanted to, but they don't, and I know the reason for it. There needs to be something there to distinguish them as superior to the other students, and Meyer is not an inventive enough writer to do this in a subtle way. She also seems reluctant to have anybody in the novel not pay attention to the Cullens for their remarkable uniqueness. Even though Bella once mentioned that nobody else is "as aware of Edward" as she is (69), people are aware, and they're curious, staring at Edward and Bella as they sit down at the cafeteria together in Chapter 10, though Meyer would like you to think that their curiosity is invasive and shallow, while Bella's is natural and admirable.

Meyer would also like for us to think of everybody in Forks as a slow cooker, aware perhaps of the Cullen family's super-awesomeness, but not bright enough to put two and two together about them being supernatural. Portraying Bella as the only one with the brainpower to figure that out is a major factor in Edward's attraction to her (she's perceptive, accepting of Edward's differences, etc...) and a way to finagle the audience into seeing her as a kind of special moon princess. (I should add that there were further instances in this chapter where Edward explains to Bella -- and to readers -- that she is both a delicate flower that needs to be protected and the object of desire for "every human male" (210) Forks High School; talk about medieval tropes, good God. Why doesn't Meyer just lock Bella away in a goddamn tower and be done with it?)

This relationship is crazy non-functional.

"If I had to [this is Bella talking here], I supposed I could purposefully put myself in danger to keep [Edward] close...I banished that thought before his quick eyes read it on my face. That idea would definitely get me in trouble." (211)

How terrifyingly stupid. And how nauseating that Bella doesn't dismiss the idea because it's moronic, only because she knows it would get her "in trouble" with Edward. And all for someone she barely knows!

I'm not saying that there is absolutely NO chemistry between these two characters, as there's something really funny about Bella trying hard to be nonchalant when Edward discusses his hunting preferences ("Nothing more fun than an irritated grizzly bear" (215)). But Bella's level of devotion (or really, her neediness) is completely out of proportion with the relationship that she actually has with Edward. It's particularly out of proportion when you think about all the uncomfortable grimacing, angsting, glaring, and indirect, avoidant banter that these two experience when they're around each other.

On the plus side, Bella isn't complaining now as much as in previous chapters, and she's gotten to be pretty damn outrageous in way that is simultaneously infuriating and hilarious. She's like a parody of a needy girlfriend, without a whiff of irony.

WHAT'S WORKING:
Contradiction #1
Fans of this series who idolize Edward have to know that he has eyes only for Bella. He doesn't give a damn about any other human being. If you were to find yourself cornered by the Port Angeles Three-Time Champion Gang-raping Team, Edward wouldn't care unless you were -- oh...OOOHH...but you ARE Bella, aren't you?

As a fantasy, guy-saves-girl is an old standby; it's a signal of ultimate goodness for a man to risk his life to save a girl (though...Edward is both immortal, and invincible, so it doesn't seem like he's risking that much). Those who have substituted their own qualities into Bella's blank spaces aren't thinking, "Edward's kind of an asshole to most people"; they're thinking "Edward would care about me," who, if you have the mentality of a fifteen-year-old, is the only person that matters. This is why we become adults and grow out of this mindset.

The contradiction works in the novel's favor in regards to its fanbase. This isn't explicitly said, but I think it's Edward's DEVOTION that makes him "good," not so much his attitude, moral compass or non-serial-murderer status. The intensity of his feeling, which he has in spades, is the most important thing to readers.

Contradiction #2
I kind of touched on this. Edward has to be both really, really amazing in an obvious way and also have the pretense of keeping his vampirism under wraps from the rest of the town. For Meyer, and for readers also, apparently, there can exist no realm in which Edward is not explicitly better than all of those around him, therefore he and his family are naturally at the center of gossip and intrigue, even though the dumb country bumpkins of Forks still aren't observant enough to suspect that the Cullens are anything more than beautiful weirdos. This is another contradiction that doesn't make logical sense, but from a misanthropic (or more accurately, "Edward-centered") viewpoint, there can be no other way.

Contradiction #3 I really don't know about this last one. I think it just has to do with my perspective about what love should be. I mean, if these people were any more tortured, they'd be on racks.

What I keep looking for are the moments when Edward and Bella genuinely enjoy the other's company, when she's not freaking out about how inferior she is to him and how soon he will leave her, and he's not angsting about putting her in danger. The angst aspect has GOT to be an element that's working for other readers, as it's playing a dominant role here. While the feelings may not be pleasant or joyful, they ARE intense, and what this novel does right (ad nauseum) is describe Bella's deep physical attraction to Edward. It feeds readers the idea that anything this severe, pleasurable or miserable or otherwise, MUST be true, in spite of sound logic.

For the record, I don't think the crazier Twilight fans are all that interested in logic. They believe in the intensity of the emotion because the book surrounds them with it. And it's always possible that these readers decided as soon as they read the blurb that these two characters were going to be irrevocably in love with one another.

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Sorry for the delay this week. I had a project to finish that I had procrastinated on, and while I normally use this blog as a means to procrastinate, I procrastinated about that too. Chapter 11 for next week.

Wish me luck
Jenchilla

Chapter 9: Theory

195 pages in...

As a special treat for everyone, Instead of the usual dull summary this week, I'm going to present Chapter 9 to you in comic form, which I drew, and which I think speaks for itself. And while this may seem like a lot of work to invest in a book that I hate, remember this: 1) I enjoyed the hell out of myself. 2) It really didn't take that long to put this together, really about two hours, and some of that time I spent watching Law & Order SVU also (though I prefer the original so much more).

I claim that more intellectual thought went behind the making of this comic than the entire bajillion-page Twilight series. So...please enjoy.

*ACTUAL DIALOGUE






The chapter concludes with this infamous passage:

"About three things I was absolutely positive. First, Edward was a vampire. Second, there was part of him -- and I didn't know how potent that part might be -- that thirsted for my blood. And third, I was unconditionally and irrevocably in love with him." (195)

CHARACTER DEVELOPMENT: Bella may not be the bug-eyed, drooling idiot that my comic portrays her to be, but she does cry when Edward implies that they should not be together. It should also be noted that Bella physically GOES INTO WITHDRAWAL when Edward tells her goodnight. As soon as his car disappears around the corner she "realize[s] it [is] very cold" (193), and then she proceeds to experience dizziness (194), chills, fatigue, and "aching shivers" (195).

...

I think there might be a twenty-page scene missing from this novel, in which Bella and Edward hang out at the shipyard in Port Angeles and shoot heroin together.

You see, the thing is, Bella and Edward don't really know that much about each other. They remedy the problem--kind of--in this chapter, a brief stretch of time in which they converse, according to Bella, "openly, the walls between [them] gone" (187). Bella learns for certain (sort of) that Edward is a vampire, but she's not particularly thrown by this (more "curious" (185), actually), and their conversation thrills her not so much because she's invested in what he has to say, but because she gets to sit in his glowing presence for a while. These crazy kids...they're already in that stage of the relationship in which being apart from each other makes them anxious. Both Edward (188) and Bella (190) feel this way.

Ehhhhhhhh. I guess...I guess my problem is that I don't see any REASON for these two to love each other. And it's not because I don't believe in people clicking and having immediate, intimate chemistry with one another, and it's not because I don't think Bella could be so enamored with Edward's hypnotizing appearance that she would be obsessed with him in this way (this chapter is ever-vigilant of the status of Edward's "honey" eyes, glorious face and silky voice). But there is no chemistry, and the story is trying to sell Bella's obsession as being much, much more than physical attraction.

I keep searching for those blissful, giddy feelings in Bella that I felt when I had crushes in high school. Instead, I get this steady onslaught of angst. When Edward is out of sight, Bella's whole world is dark; when Edward is there, Bella is constantly terrified of the moment when he won't be. And Edward is the same way! On top of being kind of a douche (on pg 181, he literally ROLLS HIS EYES at Bella when she freaks out about him driving a hundred miles an hour down the freeway), he answers Bella's questions with a kind of begrudging nonchalance before quickly slipping back into, "Sometimes we [the vampires] make mistakes. Me, for example, allowing myself to be alone with you" (187). We're supposed to understand that he really loves being with Bella, since he forces her to have dinner with him and informs her that he is driving her home, and yet much of the time he's with Bella, he's spending his energy angsting about the risk he's taking.

These kids...they're just so MISERABLE--even when they are together!

PLOT DEVELOPMENT: On top of the relationship suddenly taking a dive into Serious Luv, we get to learn more about the Meyer Vampire Mythology in this chapter. I know the basics of the usual vampire stories. Fangs. Blood drinking. Immortality. Weakness against sunlight, crosses, garlic, holy water, etc. The point of the vampire genre is that vampires are humans who have been cursed with bloodlust, and as a result they must creep around in the night for eternity -- insert whatever sociological metaphors you wish.

The vampire diet and the sunlight thing are addressed in this chapter. Meyer's vampires can choose not to hunt humans, instead sustaining themselves on animal blood (Edward compares it to "living on tofu and soy milk...it doesn't completely satiate the hunger" (188)), so the bloodlust is there, but it can be overcome. And Edward laughs at Bella (185) when she asks how he can come out in the daytime. In Twilight, it's a myth that vampires burn in the sun, though Edward still says that he "can't go out in the sunlight...where anyone can see" (189).

We'll just leave that plot point alone for a while. It will arise later, to more devastating effects, I have a feeling...

I enjoy reading authors who twist fantasy/horror genres to their own means, but Meyer's twists make me...reeeeeeally nervous. I can't say exactly why. It may have something to do with the fact that every move Meyer makes in the story seems to be an attempt to make her vampires that much better than humans (that is, they don't seem to have any real weaknesses). We'll keep an eye on this as the story progresses.

I was about to complain also that there's no reason for Meyer to make Chapter 9 its own chapter, as it never breaks scene from Chapter 8, but I realize that she does something that I do when I write sometimes, which is offsetting important moments of the story in their own separate sections. In effect, by making this drive home its own chapter, she's putting an asterisk on it, noting its importance to the story. Um....I don't know if she did that consciously; I just thought I'd point it out.

LANGUAGE: I don't have a lot to say about this. Chapter 9 reads as half dialogue and half Meyer's weird fetishizing of whatever Edward's eyes are doing every other paragraph, and how his voice sounds, and whether he is smiling "ruefully" (189), or groaning "quietly" (190). I hope Meyer doesn't inspire legions of teenage writers to start raping their prose with clunky adverb usage.

And what the fuck, Bella says "Holy crow" again. Who SAYS that...?

SUBTEXT: Edward Cullen can be read pretty much as an illicit substance. I'm not kidding. Observe these bullet points, during which I replace [heroin] for [Edward Cullen].

• [Heroin] makes Bella experience a kind of euphoria.
• Bella only feels all right when she has [heroin] nearby.
• When [heroin] is not nearby, Bella suffers from chills, shakes and fatigue.
• [Heroin] is, admittedly, dangerous.
  
• We have seen [heroin] work on multiple characters in the book. [Heroin] appeals to all who experience [its] hypnotic wiles, including the woman in the nurse's office and the hostess at the Italian restaurant.

If I saw a marginally more talented author depicting a man (or ANYTHING) in this way, I would know without a doubt that the subject in question was BAD NEWS. But Twilight is doing something different here. It consistently counters Edward's more dubious qualities by portraying him as a savior and Bella as an incompetent child. Bella NEEDS him, literally. She can't resist his power over her.

Some older people who enjoy Twilight claim that the books reawaken what it was like to have a first crush (Caitlin Flanagan falls into this camp, playing the teenage nostalgia card like nobody's business). Bella's feelings for Edward apparently reach into the very essence of that semi-scary feeling of teenage love, as the relationships you have when you are young, needy, and emotionally immature tend to reach the extremes depicted in the book. Well, fine. Bella's drooling reminds you of how you felt about your boyfriend when you were sixteen. But that would make Bella's obsession a matter of perception (i.e., Edward is unsurpassingly awesome to Bella, and only Bella). And if there's one thing the book makes clear, it's that Edward's awesomeness is not a matter of perception, as Edward exerts his mesmerizing effect ON EVERYONE (all women, at least).

This is why I can't help but read Edward as more of a drug than a person. He hasn't so much wooed Bella as he's gotten her addicted.

No. I do not think Meyer promotes drug use. That's not what I'm saying. I think she wrote Edward in this way so that he would be irresistable, in the way that addictive drugs seem irresistable. But if you make your love interest irresistable, it means that your female protagonist has no agency.

WHAT'S WORKING: This is a kind of romance that I don't understand. It's an old-fashioned, semi-tortured romance for sure, older than I am, far beyond my feminist sensibilities. I mean, I think this falls into the "kiss me awake and I will marry you" camp, which clearly still holds appeal for some people. The part of the relationship where you show interest in one another's personality and learn about them, and navigate each other's lives, and worry about whether or not you have the same values, and discover, with joy, that you do have the same values...it's been eradicated completely here. We are officially in the "I can't stand to be apart from you, I would probably die for you" phase and it is full speed ahead my, friends.

Less, um...rational readers of Twilight are perfectly fine arguing that Edward and Bella love each other because they are "soulmates," that you can't help who you fall in love with, and you can't fully explain it when you love someone, and -- this is one I found on Yahoo! Answers -- "They love each other so deeply it's impossible to tell the true meaning to the love they share" (as in, their love exists in a realm beyond such petty things as logic and reason). I guess not being able to help who you fall in love with would explain why Edward and Bella are so miserable all the time. Neither of them actually enjoys loving the other.

Consistent with previous chapters, there are many gaps left in these characters, and in this relationship. So readers who are more imaginative and don't buy the argument of less intellectual fans have plenty of opportunity to fill in their own character motivations. I did a little research and found further rebuttals to my complaint

Edward loves Bella because:

• She's selfless
• She's mysterious and unique (he can't read her thoughts)
  
• She is smarter than all the other students
• She doesn't freak out when she learns that he's a vampire (she accepts him for who he is, i.e., a murderer)
  
• They share an interest in classical music
  
• She has "depth"

Bella loves Edward because:

• He has a gentlemanly nature (toward Bella; not so much anyone else)
• He's mysterious and unique
• He's kind (toward Bella; not so much anyone else)
• He saves her life on multiple occasions
• They are both outsiders
• He has "depth"

I think this is consistent with the theme of "Fill In the Character Qualities of Your Choice." I don't see any evidence of Bella or Edward being selfless, mysterious, kind, deep, or even genuine outsiders. But for readers who have imposed these qualities on them, it is easy, if not inevitable, picturing Edward and Bella as a couple.

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Chapter 10 is called "Interrogations." I really want Meyer to describe how Edward is naturally a Glade Plug-in some more. Because...we need more of that.

Wish me luck,
Jenchilla

Chapter 8: Port Angeles

178 pages in...

I have six followers! Thank you for taking an interest in this blog. I hope I'm entertaining you somewhat and not offending you too badly if you happen to enjoy Twilight. I want to reiterate that I certainly don't wish to damage anyone's enjoyment of this series by being critical of it. What I want to do is encourage analytical thought about these popular phenomena, because I think considering Twilight to be something fluffy and inconsequential is to be overly dismissive of it. Things that are important to girls are just as worthy of analysis as things that are important to boys.

So anyway, thanks all. And onward.

Picking up where we left off, Bella, Jessica and Angela drive to Port Angeles listening to "whiny rock songs" (152, which is a REALLY ironic thing for Bella to make a jab at, considering the band she was supposedly listening to at the beginning of the previous chapter). The girls dress shop until Bella finds her social capacity worn thin and wanders off alone to find a bookstore. It's getting dark, and she somehow ends up getting lost in the warehouse district. Anyone with two neurons to rub together already knows where this is going...

So Port Angeles' resident gang of shady rapists pursues and corners Bella, and, inevitably, Edward's silver Volvo swerves in to the rescue. Edward orders her into the car and drives around trying to suppress the urge to murder the offending guys, then finally pulls up in front of a restaurant (La Bella Italia -- no acknowledgment in regards to the name) and informs Bella that he is taking her to dinner. They meet up with and quickly say goodbye to Jessica and Angela, who already ate while Bella was wandering around lost.

Edward near about charms the panties off the waitress, and while he does this, he and Bella hold Part II of the conversation in which Bella voices her theories about Edward's true nature. Somehow, she has arrived at the conclusion that he reads minds (!?) and seems to know that her mind is the exception (!!!?), and there is further talk about how Bella attracts trouble by magic, and how she owes Edward her life. While we do learn a little bit more, Edward is still very evasive with his answers. The chapter ends mid-conversation, with Edward preparing to drive Bella home.

CHARACTER DEVELOPMENT: There are only two real instances in which Bella takes action in this chapter. They are: Bella gets lost seeking a bookstore and Bella speaks to and interrogates Edward. In all other instances, Bella is being acted upon, rather than acting.

Can it really be argued that this chapter belongs to anyone but Edward? As soon as he arrives on the scene, Bella's role as an active agent is minimal. And Bella herself has adopted new characteristics in order to appreciate and accommodate his depiction as her perpetual savior and superior. Gone is the girl who feels embarrassed about being weak. Gone is the girl who gets angry about Edward's condescending attitude. The Port Angeles rescue marks the moment in which she becomes unwaveringly rapt in her admiration of him.

"It was amazing how instantaneously the choking fear vanished, amazing how suddenly the feeling of security washed over me...as soon as I heard [Edward's] voice." (162)

Of course, it's understandable that Bella would feel relieved and grateful after Edward saves her from a bunch unruly men, and she does thank him, her voice "fervent with gratitude" (174). But the story doesn't dwell on Bella's gratefulness. In fact, her thanks is almost an afterthought. Bella seems more fascinated by the idea that Edward is in complete control; she submits to his orders without questioning them, drinking her soda "obediently" (169, this is Bella's own word!) when he tells her to, eating when he tells her to, even when she says she isn't hungry, and at this point it feels gracious for Edward to allow her to pick the entree of her choice (Oh, sorry, that's an active instance I left out: Bella selects mushroom ravioli from the menu. Though if Bella had picked tuna steak or something, I could certainly see Edward putting his foot down: "No ma'am. The mercury content is too high. You're having the spaghetti.")

More prominently than ever, Bella is in awe of Edward. She marvels at how he "effortlessly" parallel parks the Volvo (165). When she shivers, he gives her his jacket, which "smell[s] amazing" (170) because he apparently emits a naturally "delicious" odor. By the end of the chapter she is sniffing it whenever he's not looking (178). Ung...

And Edward is still so creepy! He flat-out admits to stalking Bella (she responds critically for a moment: "I wondered if it should bother me that he was following me," then her brain, unable to take the stress of actual thought, shuts down: "instead I felt a strange surge of pleasure" (174)). He also confesses to being potentially violent, to "[having] a problem with [his] temper" (164) (Bella doesn't specify a reaction to this, but I picture her twirling her hair and staring blankly). Every time Edward opens his mouth, he is either mocking Bella for her frailty -- "Ordinary people seem to make it through the day without so many catastrophes" (174) -- or slathering undeserved praise for qualities that I have yet to see from her -- "You're much more observant than I gave you credit for" (173) (we'll get to this; it's a plot point that really threw me for a loop).

Edward also exhibits this bizarrely-attractive brand of androgyny, with his pale, long-fingered hands and angelic face. He opens Bella's car door for her like an old Victorian-era gent wearing a "light beige leather jacket" and "ivory turtleneck sweater" (170, ivory turtleneck sweater! Lol! I don't know if he's a serial killer or a douchebag from an 80s teen movie).

PLOT DEVELOPMENT: It's an improvement over the previous chapter in that we no longer have multiple pages devoted to Bella's epic internet voyage. Also, shit happens. Who am I to complain that there's no real sense of causality and our heroine has no control over what happens to her?

But I'm astounded at how information develops from the conversation Bella and Edward have. In this chapter, we arrive at a conclusion about one of Edward's many special abilities, and it's implied that Bella not only knows about this ability, but also knows its limitations, saying, "Let's say...that...someone...could know what people are thinking, read minds, you know -- with a few exceptions" (173). Later she is "grateful" that he doesn't seem to know what she's thinking (178). I've been reading this novel pretty closely. Bella has NEVER ONCE reflected on the idea that Edward can read minds. It's never come up. And when the information comes to the surface there is never an "aha" moment on Bella's part. It's as though she's not so much finding things out, but merely affirming things that she already knows. And how would she know that, honestly?

This is what makes Edward comment on how "observant" Bella is, but I have been in Bella's head for 173 pages now and never once saw her "observing" how Edward reads minds, or how he's incapable of reading her mind. The clean answer for this is that Meyer simply forgot to include these observations; as Meyer has understood these facts about Edward from the beginning, Bella comes to this conclusion without any real effort.

The whole book plunks along this way. Bella and Edward both just "know things" because the author knows them. It colors the plot with this super-obvious kind of artificiality. There are no surprises. It seems that the characters are never in any danger of being wrong or failing, which, for some readers, could be more of a comfort than it is a frustration. I'll address this later.

LANGUAGE: I had no outstanding beefs with the language in this chapter. In fact, the descriptions of Bella getting lost struck me as chillingly effective. There's one moment when she turns a corner, and I can sense her fear in the language so plainly:

"The street was lined on both sides by blank, doorless, windowless walls [a passive sentence, but it's still a pretty terrifying image]. I could see in the distance, two intersections down, streetlamps, cars, and more pedestrians, but they were all too far away. Because lounging against the western building, midway down the street, were the other two men from the group, both watching with excited smiles as I froze dead on the sidewalk." (160).

I mean, if you were a teenage girl, reading this might make you scared to go off somewhere by yourself.

I'm also aware that Bella and Edward's banter is supposed to be entertaining. Meyer isn't TERRIBLE at progressing conversations naturally, and I can see how, if you had a major emotional attachment to Bella and Edward, reading the moments when they interrogate and theorize about each other would be a lot of fun. It's not very fun for me, because I don't like either of these people. Edward makes what passes as a joke in this novel -- "Only you could get into trouble in a town this small. You would have devastated their crime rate statistics for a decade you know" (173) -- and the humor of it is lost on me, because I can't get over how condescending he is.

SUBTEXT: Caitlin Flanagan, how exactly could Bella have chosen to not be with Edward? She can't not chose him. The story deliberately dictates this.

I can't help but read this chapter as the Twilight Universe finally shattering Bella's spirit, afflicting our heroine (who we're otherwise supposed to see as intelligent and mature) with this sudden urge to go wandering around in a warehouse district by herself, in a city she doesn't know. "See!" Meyer cackles, "You DO need a man! Think about that the next time you go out in public without a chaperon, you arrogant hussy!" To Bella's credit, she does go through self-defense lessons in her head when the men approach her, moves that include -- not kidding -- "breaking the nose or shoving it into the brain. Finger through the eye socket -- try to hook around and pop the eye out" (161). Jesus Christ! Did she go to the Pai Mei School of self defense!? It's no wonder Meyer thinks women are better off subordinate if she believes that self-defense classes teach you how to shove a guy's nose into his brain.

But I digress. Now that the novel has gotten through that troublesome love-hate phase (it skipped the "Lets get to know each other" phase almost completely), Meyer can move onto to more important things, like praising Edward for his ability to parallel park and the way he smells nice without cologne, which seem to be the highlight of this book for many of its readers, and the bane of it for those who hate this series.

On a minor note, there is also this really weird subtext about food. I'm not going to go back through the chapters to cite a bunch of stuff, so you'll just have to take my word for it, but Bella is never interested in eating. She cooks solely in a perfunctory, housewifely way and is always too nervous or depressed to be hungry or to enjoy what she eats; in this chapter she nibbles at things only because Edward tells her to. I picture her as a looking really sallow and unhealthy too...as embodied by Kristen Stewart. And before everyone freaks out, I am not saying that Meyer promotes anorexia, just that it bothers me that she's glossing over one of the big conflicts that arises with vampirism: that is, giving up human pleasures (I am human, and I LOVE FOOD) for a cursed immortal life. While it's supposed to be ironic that Bella faints at the sight of blood, it would be even more ironic if she professed a love of something that vampires can't enjoy. But alas, Meyer seems intent on emphasizing the superiority of the vampire lifestyle, and so Bella shows no interest in food.

(Note: sunlight has the potential to be the exception here. Bella loves sunny weather, and vampires don't go out in the sun. But this nuance will be shattered in a later chapter, which will be, I have a feeling one of the most painful things I ever have to read in my life.)

WHAT'S WORKING: Edward tells Bella: "I've never tried to keep a specific person alive before...and its much more troublesome than I would have believed" (174).

Oh, I can hear the siren call of this relationship all right. If Edward's most important quality is his looks, his second most important quality is how unreasonably obsessed he is with Bella, and how explicit he is about how she is the FIRST person he has ever been unreasonably obsessed with. For the readers of Twilight, little is more romantic than a guy showing how much he cares, and little does that more than a guy saving you from peril. Peril is, coincidentally, something that follows Bella around like a puppy.

On the surface, Edward's statement has a loving sentiment. But has he ever been given the chance to rescue people before? Has he consciously passed it up? If Bella is the first human being he's ever cared about, this implies that any other girl would have been left to get raped in that alleyway. This doesn't seem too outlandish if Edward is as disdainful of average people as Bella is, if he considers his greatest blessing to be NOT killing every human he comes in contact with. And yes, I'm reading into Edward a little here, but I'm trying to keep in mind also how this story treats characters who don't have these too-good-to-be-true supernatural qualities (Bella, with her inexplicable magnetism, I would put in this category). Meyer, and any reader who shares her misanthropic sentiments, would probably deem it inconceivable that Edward could form an emotional attachment to any human other than Bella.

For those who can see Bella as admirable (or better yet, as themselves), Edward confirms what they have already presupposed: Bella is special. She gets it. She knows what's what. And Edward is the same way. And the two of them share this special connection, getting it and knowing what's what between them. And I think this stems back to the idea of the plot providing comfort rather than conflict. Perhaps there is something reassuring in reading about the escapades of these two superior people: Bella, the blameless innocent whose problems are beyond her control, and Edward, the all-powerful guardian who sets things right for her every time.

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The weather where I am has been so wonderful lately; I've taken to working on this project on coffee house porticos and in parks and such, which has its pros and cons. Pro, because being outdoors makes reading Twilight a less grueling experience by proxy. Con, because you risk being seen reading Twilight in public. Chapter 9 for next week.

Wish me luck,
Jenchilla