Twilight: Journey Into the Abyss (Part Twenty-One)

Wow. I had forgotten what a horrible, unforgivable cliffhanger I ended on last time. Oops. Sorry about that. Well, without further ado. 

Here we go again.

Chapter Thirteen

Alternate motive: “Edward in the sunlight was shocking. I couldn’t get used to it, though I'd been staring at him all afternoon.”

This had nothing to do with his stupidly shiny skin, of course. I just find his gorgeous arm hair absolutely fascinating for some reason.

Get the shovel!: “His skin, white despite the faint flush from yesterday's hunting trip, literally sparkled, like thousands of tiny diamonds were embedded in the surface.”

Thar be diamonds in that there skin! Get the shovels, boys! We’re going on a mining expedition. That boy oughta be worth millions.

MILLIONS, I SAY! Muahahaha!

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Twilight: Journey Into the Abyss (Part Twenty)

Chapter Twelve (continued)

Beware of dryer lint: “‘I promise to try to be safe,’ I recited. ‘I'll do the laundry tonight — that ought to be fraught with peril.’”

Obviously she hasn’t looked in her laundry hamper in a long time. Yeesh. She’s in for a rougher time than she thinks.

Dirty, dirty girl.

Skeleton fetish: “He reached across the table to touch my face, lightly brushing along my cheekbone again.”

Is it just me, or does Steph have a penchant for unsettlingly creepy descriptions of what should be tender moments? 

You stroke someone’s cheek, not their cheekbone. If you’re stroking a cheekbone it’s more likely you’re worried about their eating disorder than trying to cuddle with them.

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Twilight: Journey Into the Abyss (Part Nineteen)

 

Chapter Twelve

Incoming threat: Beware, as a new villain enters the fray: An old obese guy that has to get around via wheelchair.

Scary indeed.

Ok, actually I have no idea what his story role is just yet to be honest, but he was certainly introduced as the spooky villain type, so I’m just going to run with it until told otherwise because I find it amusing.

Try harder: “[Billy’s, a.k.a. the obese dude’s] dark eyes flashed up to me again, their expression unreadable.”

But you’re so good at reading eyes! You’ve been practicing this whole book so far. Practically every other sentence is you reading some inane expression in someone’s eyes.

Is something the matter? Are you not feeling well? You can tell me. It’s ok. I know you’re capable of this. Just concentrate and try again. We’ll get through this together.

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Twilight: Journey Into the Abyss (Part Eighteen)

Chapter Eleven (continued)

Need-to-know basis: Seriously. I really want to know. What possible, freakish reason could Edward have to want know Bella’s favorite gemstone?

Yeah, she pulls her usual “easily embarrassed by the weirdest details” routine and admits she switched her favorite gemstone to topaz recently because it’s the current color of his eyes, a conversation piece that’s interesting enough in its own right, but her unhealthy obsession isn’t the issue here (for once).

Why did he ask her in the first place?

Is he starting some kind of Bella Journal where he keeps every last detail of her existence written down in case he forgets something?

“Oh crap. I forgot our anniversary again. Wait! I’ll consult the Bella Journal! And I’ll look up her favorite food and jewelry types to plan our dinner and her present while I’m at it. It’s like I don’t even need my memory anymore. I’m totally a genius.”

Forgetful comedy fathers in sitcoms everywhere could really take a lesson from Edward here. It’s not exactly subtle, but it might at least avoid some of those oh-so-wacky misunderstandings.

Irrational desires: “I leaned forward on the table, resting my chin on my folded arms, my hidden fingers gripping the table's edge as I fought to ignore the irrational longing that unsettled me.”

Never before have I had such a strong desire to do jumping jacks. I couldn’t explain it. I only knew that it was taking every ounce of strength within me to keep from springing to my feet in the middle of the classroom and bursting into a vigorous session of exercise, right there in front of everybody. The urges worried me. I normally don’t even like doing jumping jacks, but I’ll be damned if, right then and there, they weren’t my number one desire in the entire world.

Unbalanced ratio: If I recall correctly, when it was Bella’s “turn” to ask questions to Edward she got to ask a few scant questions before he got violently angry and threw her out of the car while speeding down the highway.

Or something.

Now that it’s Edward’s turn to ask questions, he’s bombarding her with enough material to fill a feature-length magazine article, albeit an unbelievably boring one. Questions all day at school and “hours” spent talking in front of Bella’s house afterward.

How about some balance in this relationship, eh?

Jerk.

Shut-in: “I tried to describe impossible things like the scent of creosote … the high, keening sound of the cicadas in July, the feathery barrenness of the trees, the very size of the sky...”

Here’s an impossible thing I’d like you try and describe: Why someone that’s as old as whatever the bloody hell Edward’s age actually is (I tend to forget he’s actually pretty ancient – the story’s creepy enough already without that thrown into the mix) needs to have the entire world described to him in detail by a teenager. Has he just not been paying attention? Does he have a really bad memory? What’s going on here?

OMG: “The hardest thing to explain was why it was so beautiful to me — to justify a beauty that didn't depend on the sparse, spiny vegetation that often looked half dead, a beauty that had more to do with the exposed shape of the land, with the shallow bowls of valleys between the craggy hills, and the way they held on to the sun.”

You know, at the very beginning of the mind-numbing project, I stated that I would try to be objective and that I would try to comment on both the good and the bad of what I came across while reading this terrible, terrible book.

To this point, I haven’t really had much to show for the former part of my promise. I’ve found enough bad to fill, oh, roughly eighteen installments of a scathing satirical feature, but nothing good. No diamonds in the rough for me.

The above passage is, by far and away, the best sentence I have yet found in the entire book. It might even be able to pass for decent writing, slightly moving even, were it not buried in the proverbial pile of crap that is the rest of this book.

Color me ever so slightly impressed. It’s not much, but I honestly didn’t think Steph had even this much in her.

I just thought, in the interest of fairness and honoring my original mission statement, that this was worth passing along.

I wouldn’t get used to it if I were you.

Hardy har har: “’How late is it?’ I wondered out loud as I glanced at the clock.

‘It’s twilight,’ Edward murmured…”

HA!

HA HA!

SHE USED THE NAME OF THE BOOK! IN DIALOG! NO WRITER HAS EVER DONE THAT BEFORE!

Best. Writer. Ever.

Amiright?

Ever-changing sunlight: Edward: “’Darkness is so predictable, don't you think?’"

Totally. Not like that stupid sun. Always being all “bright” or “not quite as bright”.

Make up your damn mind, sun! We’re tired of your trickery and deception!

Silly light pollution: Bella: “’I like the night. Without the dark, we'd never see the stars.’ I frowned. ‘Not that you see them here much.’

[Edward] laughed, and the mood abruptly lightened.”

I can relate. I don’t know about you, but I simply can’t help myself from bursting into fits of uncontrollable laughter every time I think about one of the myriad ways mankind is ruining the planet.

It’s just so gosh-darn hilarious.

Try bringing it up at a party sometime. Instant ice-breaker.

Awkward human movement, lesson #1: “[Edward] flung the door open in one swift movement, and then moved, almost cringed, swiftly away from me.”

Edward cringed away from her?

Steph, I don’t think you’re allowed to use that word as verb that way…

I know there’s artistic license and all, but you’ve got to draw the line somewhere.

Plus, you know, you shouldn’t be allowed artistic license. Because, well, you’re not an artist.

More of an untalented hack, really.

So cringing is not a form of movement, got it?

Also: you pulled the “almost” thing again. Did Edward do some weird form of movement that was almost a cringe but not quite and this is just your lazy way of describing it? Did you use your crazy mind powers to know that he was about to cringe but decided not to?

Details like this are important.

He’s melting!: “In the passenger seat was a much older man, a heavyset man with a memorable face — a face that overflowed, the cheeks resting against his shoulders…”

Oh eww. Eww eww eww. That’s disgusting.

Is his face melting off or what? That is not a natural way for a face to be.

Lessons in nonsensical character description:  Think after all this time you’ve developed a sort of immunity to Steph’s weird brand of inane, self-contradictory character descriptions?

I did too. Until I read this:

“And the surprisingly familiar eyes, black eyes that seemed at the same time both too young and too ancient for the broad face they were set in.”

I think that might be a new low.

Continue to Part Nineteen

Twilight: Journey Into the Abyss (Part Seventeen)

Chapter Eleven (continued)

Come again?: “[Mike] grinned. Sometimes it was so easy to like Mike.”

Who is Mike again?

More gym class antics: “I somehow managed to hit myself in the head with my racket and clip Mike's shoulder on the same swing.”

Seriously, no one aside from a person with a legitimate physical handicap should be this clumsy.  It’s very worrying.

I know Steph was probably trying to be all “good writer like” and stuff, but I feel she perhaps went a bit overboard with this clumsiness trait. 

The extent of her abilities: “‘You and Cullen, huh?’ Mike asked...

‘That's none of your business, Mike,’ I warned, internally cursing Jessica straight to the fiery pits of Hades.”

You’ll have to excuse me, but it’s kind of easy to lose track of these things in a book like Twilight. 

Has she gained the ability to actually do this yet?  I can’t remember.

Both Edward and Bella seem to sprout new powers about every other page, so for all I know poor unmemorable Jessica might actually be in for a very unpleasant journey.

Bella buffet: "’[Edward] looks at you like... like you're something to eat,’ [Mike] continued, ignoring me.”

Honestly I can’t imagine that Bella has much to worry about.  Somehow I don’t see her as being a very tasty meal.

I picture her flavor as bitter and somehow slimy.

Also, unless Mike actually knows Edward is a vampire, and I was presuming I was supposed to think that Bella is the only one that actually knew that fact, despite the horrific obviousness of the truth, this is a sickeningly convenient line for him to choose. 

I guess I’m supposed to find the wordplay clever?  Or something?

It’s hard to know how Steph thought this choice of words was a good idea, really.

Like a bad comedy sketch: “I was wondering if Edward would be waiting, or if I should meet him at his car. What if his family was there? ... Did they know that I knew? Was I supposed to know that they knew that I knew, or not?”

For heaven’s sake, really?  You pulled out this old gag?  Yeesh.

You know, it occurs to me that if this story had been marketed as some sort of teen romance parody instead of a serious fictional endeavor I might have had to label it one of the greatest satirical works of all time.

Thank goodness they didn’t go that route, huh?

Foreign language: “Then I realized [the crowd of boys] weren't surrounding the Volvo, they were actually circled around Rosalie's red convertible, unmistakable lust in their eyes.

"Ostentatious," he muttered.

"What kind of car is that?" I asked.

"An M3."

"I don't speak Car and Driver."

Porsche 5 liter drive shaft cylinder Lambo convertible exhaust fifth gear alloy wheels.

I took “Car and Driver” as my language course in college.  I can speak enough to get by.

I don’t like to brag about it.

Give in to the senses: "’When we hunt,’ [Edward] spoke slowly, unwillingly, "we give ourselves over to our senses... govern less with our minds.”

Basically we go totally nuts and kill everything that moves.  It’s pretty simple, really.

Do you want to play a game?: “‘Oh, Bella?’ [Edward] called after me...

‘Yes?’

‘Tomorrow it's my turn.’

‘Your turn to what?’

He smiled wider, flashing his gleaming teeth. "Ask the questions."

What the hell kind of relationship is this?  It’s like a protracted game of truth or dare.  Aren’t people who love each other supposed to be all honest and truthful with each other and crap? 

This extended secrecy between the two of them really isn’t healthy.

It’s almost as if the author needed some sort of artificial plot device for withholding information until she thought the reader should know it but couldn’t come up with anything actually good....

Hmmm.....

Always dreamin’: “I pulled on my brown turtleneck and the inescapable jeans, sighing as I daydreamed of spaghetti straps and shorts.”

This girl really needs to get some better daydreams. 

Answer carefully: “‘So what did you do last night?’ I asked.

[Edward] chuckled. ‘Not a chance. It's my day to ask questions.’

‘Oh, that's right. What do you want to know?’

‘What's your favorite color?’ he asked, his face grave.”

Green.  No, blue!  Ahhhh!

And Bella went flying out of the window of the car and off into the distance for seemingly no reason.

Edward was puzzled.

More warning signs: As if we needed any more reasons to question the healthiness of Bella’s relationship with Edward, he’s now displaying signs of obsessive-compulsive disorder on top of everything else. 

Not only could he turn her into a vampire, not only is he far too controlling, but now he’s interrogating her for every insignificant detail of her boring little life to, I must assume, prepare himself for the role of disturbingly dedicated stalker if she should choose to dump him.

Worse, I’m having to read through this drivel.

Edward has been relentlessly questioning Bella all day at school about music taste, movie preferences, books she liked, even her favorite goddamn gemstone, and taking it all in like a fascinated little child looking at the exasperated face of his parent, who has been trying desperately to answer his endless string of inane questions.

I know I’ve said this before and I’m veering dangerously close to have this question lose its impact due to repetition, but seriously, what in the hell is wrong with this guy?

Continue to Part Eighteen