Welcoming Twilight

I am three hundred and four pages into “Twilight”. 

 

I know what you’re thinking.  Well, I know what some of you are thinking.  Some of you are thinking “Ewwww”.  If we were in the same room, sharing air, I’d see that look in your eyes; the one that says “I think you’re ridiculous, but I’m trying, really hard, not to say it”.

 

Some of you are thinking, “I took my kids to the movie, and that was enough.”

 

At least one of you has read it.  But, you didn’t just read it, did you?  I believe “devour” would be a more appropriate verb, don’t you?  And, after you finished, you watched the movie, never before, always after, always in that order, book, movie, book, movie, book, movie, book.  You’re waiting now.  Hollywood has you in a holding pattern.  There’s just one more movie, and while you can’t wait to see it, to see how everything turns out for Bella and the boys, you’re mourning, too.  Because, you know it’s over.  You’ll never feel that way again…

 

I have just described my fifty-nine-year-old colleague.  By the time she read the first book, all three had taken up space on the New York Times Bestseller List.  But she adhered to the pattern.  She read a book.  She watched the movie.  She read a book.  She watched the movie.  As the saga unwound, so did she.  I believe she refers to herself as “Team Edward”.  I’m proud to say I have no idea what that means.

 

A seven-year-old attempted to enlighten me. 

 

On the way out of town, I stopped at Burger King.  I know!  But it was my grandson’s turn to pick, and he really likes chicken fries.  As far as I know, Burger King is the sole purveyor of chicken fries.  And this is as it should be...

 

I shepherded him across the parking lot only to be accosted by a life-sized poster of Robert Pattinson at his blood-sucking best. 

 

“I’m team Jacob!”, my seven-year-old grandson shouted at the poster through a scowl. 

 

“You’ve read the book?”, I asked, knowing that he hadn’t.

 

“No…”

 

“Then how do you know you’re Team Jacob?”, I played along.

 

“’Cause Jacob is a werewolf and werewolves are tougher than vampires.”, he growled to illustrate.

 

I've done my time with romance novels, or as my friend refers to them, "bodice rippers".  And I can tell you, nothing gets the female adolescent blood boiling like a Kathleen Woodiwiss novel. To this day, I can conjure the picture I painted, inside my head, of one of her heroines.  Shanna was an Irish redhead. 

 

A couple of years later, I worked with a woman who was a (gasp) “single mother”.  My shift began as hers ended, which is how I came to meet her mother and her daughter, Shanna.  Only this Shanna was blonde, platinum blonde, with terrifically long eyelashes which her mother trimmed to “make them grow longer”.  But I digress…

 

Ms. Woodiwiss, it seems, set the standard.  Since that time, countless romance novels have revolved around Irish redheads, and while I can’t be sure, I think it’s reasonable to presume that Fabio may have been inspired by the artist whose work graced the covers of her paperbacks.   

 

Over time, though, the stories grew stale.  The characters ran together. I anticipated dialogue.  Nothing spoils a rugged embrace like expectation….

 

But “Twilight” is a phenomenon.  I felt I should read at least one book just to see what all the fuss is about.

 

So, I came to “Twilight” jaded, jaded and late.  By now, all four books have been released and two of the movies are available on pay-per-view.  My colleague just saw the third a second time at the Fox Theatre.  She went with a group of friends.  The youngest was twenty-eight. 

 

I began reading with no intention of viewing.  Leary of disappointment, I often avoid movies based on books I’ve read.  This time is different.

 

Stephanie Meyer writes things you want to see, like skin that sparkles with frigidity. 

 

And, I’m not invested.  I know what Edward looks like, and I like it.  If forced to pick a team, I’d pick his based on physical attributes alone. But, Stephanie writes him fragile.  She also writes him strong.  Beautiful, fragile, and strong?  Sign me up!

 

It occurred to me last night, as I inserted the business card I use as a bookmark between a page I’d read and one I hadn’t, that I’ve read this before.  This is King Kong.  This is Beauty and the Beast.  This is Rocky.  Beautiful, shy girl meets isolated, misunderstood man/beast and falls in love. In all its incarnations, the story captures female hearts of all ages.  And, despite knowing how this turns out, I’ll probably read the next one.

 

The more things change…

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