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
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