Tuesday, May 11, 2010

Chapter 12: Balancing

259 pages in...

This will be a shorter post. On top of feeling hopelessly lazy this week, I also think I should save my energy for next week, as this chapter is clearly a build-up to Chapter 13: Confessions, in which Edward exposes himself to Bella.

No....ya'll...get your minds out of the gutter. This was written by a Mormon.

Edward reveals to Bella what happens to him in the sunlight, and while this might spoil it for anyone who has maybe heard the term "sparkly vampire" in passing and think it's a euphemism or a metaphor, the vampires in the Twilight universe do literally glitter, as opposed to bursting into flames, when the sun hits them.

I've been nervous about this since starting Twilight, though I was recently talking to a friend of mine who had read the book, and who assured me that the sparkling scene "isn't that bad." And considering the ideological inconsistencies I've run into so far, I think that sparkly vampires may be among the least of Twilight's problems.

In this chapter:
  • Jacob hangs around in scene just long enough to remind us that he is a somewhat likable character whose sole purpose is to be doormat for Bella.
  • Bella angsts that Billy Black (Jacob's dad) will tell her father that she's dating Edward. (This is a really big deal, for some reason, even though Charlie Swan doesn't know that Edward is a vampire and also thinks so highly of the Cullens that he goes on tangents to defend them.)
  • Edward (this is implied, but it's the only solution that makes sense) breaks into Bella's house and rummages through a pile of her dirty laundry to find her car keys. Uh-unnnhg. Ung. *hork*
  • There's some unnecessary plotting and scheming in order to plan Bella and Edward's trip to some obscure five-mile trail in the mountains. Totally NOT a murdering rapist u gais.
  • Bella takes "unnecessary cold medicine" (251) to help herself sleep the night before her day trip with Edward, which is something she's never done and behavior that she "normally wouldn't condone" (252). (This is extremely funny to me. Because you could pretty much replace the name "Edward" with the word "heroin" and tell the same story here.)
  • Bella and Edward bicker.
  • Edward does things that...that likable guys just DON'T DO. Like, just before Edward and Bella go on their five-mile hike, Bella comes around the side of the truck and sees that Edward has deliberately removed his jacket and unbuttoned his shirt to expose the "perfect musculature" (256) of his chest. I read this as the Mormon equivalent of a guy stripping down to his whitey tighties and lying across your bed with a rose in his teeth.
  • Meyer elevates the prose tremendously toward the end of this chapter, describing the Pacific Northwestern woods as though she totally forgot they were there. Oh, we are about to commit ourselves to some serious sparklemotion. Yes we are.
This week, I think all I'm going to do is address the discomfort that I feel hanging around with Bella and Edward. For me...it's like having your histrionic female friend and her meatheaded boyfriend driving you around town for a weekend, and all they do is fluctuate between pining breathlessly and snapping at one another. It's very confusing to me, because this book keeps asking me to believe that Bella and Edward are meant for each other; as soon as Edward appears before Bella, she is filled with comfort and security and pleasure. Observe what happens when Edward shows up to drive her to the undisclosed hiking trail:

"I flew to the door; I had a little trouble with the simple dead bolt, but I yanked the door open at last, and there he was. All the agitation dissolved as soon as I looked at his face, calm taking its place. I breathed a sight of relief -- yesterday's fears seemed foolish with him here." (253)

So here we have our heroine so excited, desperate, because she hasn't seen her man in like eight hours. And he shows up and it's like the seas have parted, and she's filled with joy and wonder. And yet...these two characters constantly slip in and out of being extremely somber, passive aggressive, and pissy with one another (Edward is described as having a "martyred expression" (253) when Bella insists that she drive; he gives Bella "a dirty look" when she insists that he put on his seatbelt). On the drive, they exchange barbs over the danger of Edward being alone with Bella, because this subject has not been run into the ground already, and Bella, when she sees Edward with his shirt open, realizes "with a piercing stab of despair" that he is "too perfect" (256). "There was no way this godlike creature could be meant for me." Oh, and Meyer plays this up big time. It reaches a point where Bella deliberately tries not to look at Edward because "his beauty pierce[s] [her] through with sadness" (257) every time.

So Edward is always either angry with Bella or feels the need to assert his superiority by being condescending, and Bella, while she may experience a temporary euphoria every time she sees Edward, eventually finds herself whipped into a heightened state of agitation and insecurity by being around him. Totes not healthy. And it doesn't look like very much fun either...

Maybe the troubled relationship stems from the fact that Edward and Bella are two people who never really seem to enjoy anything, and when they do it's totally over the top. Or maybe Meyer realized that the action of the novel (i.e., the plot) was lacking, and so she plumbed her memory of those hazy, daydreamy hours in English class over at Brigham Young University, recalling that stories generally utilize conflict, and so she manufactured internal conflicts and treated them with the sincerity you would treat a nuclear holocaust.

Pretty much all conflict is internal in this novel (with the exception of events like Tyler's van's assassination attempt). The Catcher in the Rye utilizes internal conflict in a similar way (for the record, Bella Swan IS more annoying than Holden Caulfield), and this is probably why book reviewers go on about how Twilight is as much a coming-of-age-novel as it is a fantasy novel. Though I should say that just because a story has internal conflict as opposed to external conflict, it doesn't mean that the conflict is valid, or even that it makes sense. Bella MANUFACTURES her fear that her father will find out about Edward being her boyfriend; from what we've read so far, there's no reason for her to hide this information from him. Bella MANUFACTURES her insecurities as well, as Edward keeps repeating how wonderful and special she is, and yet we still see her moaning to herself and metaphorically curling up into a worthless ball of worthlessness, because Stephanie Meyer clearly believes that humility and self-loathing are one in the same. "I'm Bella Swan! I have low self-esteem, and therefore I am a good and humble person!"

Bella Swan. It is not a conflict that your boyfriend is too pretty. Just like caring-too-much and being-incredibly-beautiful-but-not-knowing-it are not valid character flaws.

WHAT'S WORKING? Would it be too tacky to say that "low self-esteem" is required to identify with a character like Bella? Mm, probably. But I already kind of said it.

It's a stereotype (but kind of a truth too) that some women degrade themselves in the hopes that someone will overhear their self-deprecation and contradict them. If you ever hang out with large groups of straight, mainstream women, you can observe this, though I don't think it's typical for females to admit aloud that they're fishing for compliments, or that their most desirable man is one who constantly corrects them when they complain about their imaginary flaws. Bella is portrayed as being sincerely down on herself, and yet also clearly better than everybody around her, as Edward is constantly pointing out.

When you look at Bella as a insert for the reader, the situation becomes ideal; readers observe: "I feel those things that she feels, or at least I've said aloud that I feel those things, and this girl, who is very much like me, is getting back the response that I wish I could experience." The conflicts may be manufactured, but it feels valid to readers who have experienced genuine or simulated feelings about boys, or themselves, or their fathers, etc. The hyper-passionate feelings, even the negative ones, described in Twilight don't have to be logical or even plausible in order be valid, and I think this is something that majorly resonates with readers who can picture themselves as this small, clumsy, weak, but secretly special girl.

The intensity of that connection, I have a feeling, might negate the discomfort that I myself feel in hanging around with Bella and Edward in this clearly unpleasant, clearly dysfunctional relationship.

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Chapter 13 for next week. I need to stock up on wine.

Wish me luck,
Jenchilla

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