I've perhaps never
felt more out of touch culturally than when every magazine and
newspaper I picked up over the course of several days last month
suddenly had huge features on the ultra-mega phenomenon
of Stephenie
(not-sic) Meyer's Twilight
series. The books were flying off
shelves at near-historic rates, her signings were mobbed, stores
were holding midnight releases for the latest installment. What?
When did all that
happen? Don't get me wrong: I
loved the delicious
irony of a suburban mother nonchalantly
having an idea for a vampire novel and it inexplicably turning into
the biggest thing in the world, especially while MFA creative
writing types simultaneously sat in cafes across the
nation talking
and moping
about writing. There's a degree
of purity and justice to that I find irresistible, even if my
ignorance of the result proves how disconnected from the zeitgeist
I truly am.
Do I care enough
to connect? After The Da Vinci
Code, alas, probably not. And thanks
to Tegan Millspaw, I don't have to. She's reviewed the
first volume. Best line:
"Call me crazy, but I don't think
there's ever been a time in my life where I've wished men were
obsessed with the scent of my blood." Oh, and there's also this
rule-of-thumb hardly anyone could disagree
with:
"As far as rocking her like a
father would, that's only sweet when 1. It's REALLY your father and
not your boyfriend who is struggling not to devour your blood and
2. you're a little kid. I think I'd find it pretty creepy if my dad
picked me up and rocked me like an infant....because, you know. I'm
an adult."
Yes.
Right.
topics:
Books