Just when you thought it was safe to go back in the water...now we find out that Stephenie Meyer's newest novel will get published in June.
I should say here that I am a diehard Anne Rice fanatic. Now those are true vampire chronicles -- rich, dense stories with plot twists and a lush language that ensnares you into reading through the dark nights of the blood drinkers. Rice manages to convince you that joining Lestat and company wouldn't be a bad gig at all -- as a matter of fact, she makes it sound downright fun.
Meyer, however, is another story.
Dreck, pure dreck. All of it printed in a big, fat books with a font large enough to almost qualify for LARGE PRINT tomes for those with vision problems. But I'm remiss -- they always publish books for young children using large print.
Sophomoric is the word for Stephenie Meyer's work -- aimed, clearly, at female teenagers of the junior high kind. I realized this when I set out to read one of the books (found, incidentally, in the dollar pile). Worst thing about it is she's raking in money hand over fist and is laughing all the way, along with the hordes of her teenybopper fans.
I was a scant few chapters into the first book of the series, Twilight, when the drudge factor kicked in -- I had to literally force myself to read the book page by painful page. The heroine -- Bella Swan -- in addition to having a really stupid name is also one of the dumbest broads I've read about in years.
Since I had purchased the first two books together, I sifted through the second one, New Moon, literally reading a couple of pages here and there so I can get a sense of what was going on in Bella's life. In Twilight, Bella falls for a vampire (Edward), and manages to survive a hellraising experience as a result.
In New Moon, bimbo Bella is stringing Jacob along because she's pining for Edward who went to splitsville. Now that's really showing some smarts, Bella -- toy with a boy that when angered will blow up three times your size and swat you with his paws. Among other inane behavior, Bella at hurls herself off a cliff into the ocean at one point.
All this for "love." That's where I stopped sifting and began rereading Interview With A Vampire to clear my head.
I gave the Twilight to a friend of mine, Mary, who is an excellent writer and my cohort in The Oscar Run. She sent me the following email: "318 pages in and suddenly I don't care if I read another page. The sophomoric writing and teenage angst have bored...If I read one more angelic adjective about Edward's astounding beauty I may puke."
I could not have said it better. I can't give Mary the second book to sift through because I got exasperated with the whole mess and did the only thing any cogent person should do with the blasted thing-- threw it in the trash.
Amen, and pass the mustard.