Dear Stephenie Meyer,
I hate you. I loath you. You insult the whole field of literature merely by existing.
I hate you because I am an insomniac. My insomnia is in no way related to you, but our only connection (thus my resulting hatred for you) resulted from my inability to go to sleep. Therefore it is your fault I am awake.
I hate you because my sweet, thoughtful grandmother purchased ALL of your books, and for Christmas gave them to me.
I hate you because I have spent nearly seven consecutive hours reading said books, and have consequentially missed two meals and an important phone call.
I hate you because reading your books has left me with the sensation of eating a whole pie, in one sitting, by myself. And resulting from this I have an insuperable urge to vomit. And shower.
I hate you because you spell your name with an "e" instead of an "a".
I hate you because you have produced four of the most poorly written, anti-feminist, and abusive relationship enabling books of the century, possibly of all time.
And you win the award for most unnecessary and excessive use of adjectives of all time (page 71, paper back edition). And on several accounts, you failed to identify the pronoun for about 3 1/2 pages.
I hate you because I could eat alphabet soup and shit out a better book than the ones you have produced.
For all of these reasons I hate you, but the biggest reason I harbor such unresolvable ill-will towards you, Stephenie Meyer, is because your literary vomit has awarded you roughly millions of dollars, and for all my anti-materialistic sentiment, I am really fucking broke.
I like this because I think Meyer is smarter than she lets on, especially for your last reason stated.
ReplyDeleteHow to make something out of nothing:
Create a never-ending plot (literally never-ending in the sense that the main characters never die...) with a main character so nondescript that any girl (or really person, since she is even devoid of female descriptors beyond "pale") could insert themselves as Bella.
Hopefully these were conscious choices on the part of the author. I like to give her the benefit of the doubt. If not- I can only hope to be struck by such luck.
Simply put: Twilight is a story of a girl about her decision to either commit necrophilia or bestiality.
ReplyDelete