Twilight

Twilight by Stephenie Meyer
My rating: 4 of 5 stars

Imagine, if you will, the epitome of an angsty teenage girl. She lived in an uneventful, small, rural town. She held the age-old belief that she was a uniquely misunderstood individual. In actuality, she was a goody-two-shoes daydreamer with a fear of authority. Her extreme idea of Teen Rebellion™ was painting her nails black, being constantly morose, and giving unnecessary, unsolicited Hot Takes™ about every single topic that might have come up in conversation. If she had been honest with herself, she could have admitted that she was a privileged, boring, white girl whose greatest life trauma was the onset of puberty. Her biggest problems were gym class and the world moving around her much faster than her desire to grow up. Sure, these problems do not seem like that big of a deal, but for a middle school girl, every small issue has the tendency to become a major calamity. And similarly, every interest has the tendency to become an outright fanatical obsession.

It was this girl who walked into a Scholastic Book Fair (which happened to be—and honestly still probably is—her Favorite Place in the Whole World™) circa 2005 or 2006 and saw the most intriguing book cover she had ever seen. Keep in mind, this girl loved books like nothing else in the world and had seen many a book cover during her short life. But, for her, this one put them all to shame. The cover consisted of stark white hands on a solid black background. The hands held a blood-red apple that was practically begging for someone to bite into it.

The girl snatched the book up at a quicker pace than her poor gym teacher had ever been able to coax from her. As if the front cover had not been alluring enough, the back cover held this oh-so-beguiling snippet:

"About three things I was absolutely positive.
First, Edward was a vampire.
Second, there was a part of him—and I didn't know how dominant that part might be—that thirsted for my blood.
And third, I was unconditionally and irrevocably in love with him."

The effect of these words was akin to a siren's call for the girl's utterly-(not-so)-unique pubescent brain. She made one of the easiest purchasing decisions of her life and took her new prize along to gym class so she could begin hungrily eating the words. She was lost in a world where interesting things could actually happen to a boring, brooding, and obedient book lover just like her. She was drawn to a fictional immortal boy who was all at once more interesting, dangerous, and chivalrous than the nightmarish 13-and-14-year-old boys who surrounded her on a daily basis. It was a fictional place that was just real enough, just dark enough, but all the while, just safe enough to make her fall in love. Unconditionally and irrevocably in love.

I think you would have to embody this middle school girl who was once me to understand just how fast and how hard I fell for Twilight back then. No book has ever captivated me the same way since—not even Twilight itself. I will always be grateful for how it landed in front of me in the perfect place and at the perfect time. I was lucky enough to discover it while it was still brand new—before it became a monolith—before it became a big enough topic of discussion to be controversial in the slightest. And it was such a glorious time to be in love with Twilight, too. It was the best of times for us Twihards—when fansites were in their heyday, when movies were still only fan-casted fantasies on our blogs, before any of us could have ever imagined that it would become a massive franchise that would be loved and loathed in equal measure.

Whenever I reread Twilight as an adult, I can objectively appreciate the issues others have with it. I do not think any rational person would argue that it deserves to be held up first and foremost as the pinnacle of fine literature. Is it a perfect book? Not in the slightest. But do you know who it was the perfect book for? It was the perfect book for that awkward, uncomfortable kid who would rather read a book than participate in the horror called Physical Education Class. It was the perfect book for a begrudging, barely teenager going through some of the hardest years of her admittedly-privileged life. It was the perfect book for the girl who was so desperately unwilling to leave her childhood behind and so hopelessly confused as to why her peers seemed so eager to grow up.

So, even though I do not love Twilight nearly as much as that girl-who-was-me once did (she would be asking for some serious splainin' as to the lack of 5 stars), I will never forget how it felt to be her reading it for the first time. She was not concerned with critical analysis or potentially problematic subtexts. For her, stories were only meant to be taken at face value and used as an escape from the world around her. Her adoration was blessedly untainted by the opinions of others. She was just a girl who loved books falling simply and hopelessly in love with a book. What more could any of us ask for?

Story Rating: 4 out of 5 Stars
Audiobook (Narrated by Ilyana Kadushin) Performance Rating: 5 out of 5 Stars

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