Since incredible people like das mervin take time out of their busy lives to analyze the Twilight series with fine tooth comb and point out every–fucking–flaw and every–fucking–bit of sexism, I won’t go into those subjects. Instead I will point out one unforgivable that has rarely been discussed, one that I have a personal connection to, and one that needs really needs to be brought to light.
Bella is the ultimate Mary-Sue. Yeah. What the hell else is new? In the beginning of Twilight, here is one of many paragraphs that solidifies that fact.
“It was fairly basic: Bronte, Shakespeare, Chaucer, Faulkner. I had already read everything. That was comforting…and boring. I wondered if my mom would send me my folder of old essays or if she would think that was cheating.”
Meyer thinks…Faulkner is fairly basic. Faulkner.
Just…just read this sentence. That’s all. Just…read while I get my bearings.
“and, his father and Uncle Buddy both gone now, one day without reason or any warning the almost completely empty house in which his uncle and Tennie’s ancient and quarrelsome great-grandfather (who claimed to have seen Lafayette and McCaslin said in another ten years would be remembering God) lived, cooked and slept in one single room, burst into peaceful conflagration, a tranquil instantaneous sourceless unanimity of combustion, walls floors and roof: at sunup it stood where his uncle’s father had build it sixty years ago, at sundown the four blackened and smokeless chimneys rose from a light white powder of ashes and a few charred ends of planks which did not even appear to have been very hot: and out of the last of evening, the last one of the twenty-two miles, on the old white mare which was the last of that stable which McCaslin remembered, the two old men riding double up to his sister’s door…”
That sentence literally goes on for another page before you see a period. And it may not seem too complex at first glance but try retaining important details after reading an entire story with this stream-of-conscious style.
This particular passage comes from “The Bear,” a short story in a collection titled Go Down Moses, and considered one of his greatest achievements. It is renowned for its themes and for being so damn complex. My professor told us that she makes sure to reread it twice every time before she teaches it to another class. And when it was time to take the test, almost half the students in my class didn’t show up. Okay, we could all skip one test no penalty, but they didn’t even try. Out of all the stories we studied it was “The Bear” that half my class decided to skip.
And Stephanie Meyer, you are trying to tell me that a seventeen-year-old girl has read Faulkner so many times that he’s BORING!?
Of course, the Twitards will say “But she doesn’t specify what Faulkner story was on the list! You don’t know it’s “The Bear!”
Of course she doesn’t specify. She’s just name-dropping so she can pompously puff herself up and say “I know who these people are and you probably don’t! Aren’t I just the smartest little cookie? WHY AREN’T YOU PRAISING ME!?” (1)
And I’m not even going to go into the complexity of Chaucer or Shakespeare (took a Shakespeare summer course too and “No Fear Shakespeare” was the only reason I got a “B.”) But Meyer is famous for dumbing down classics in her books in order to make her characters look better/smarter. Bella constantly rereads Wuthering Heights just for shits and giggles and has Romeo and Juliet all but memorized. Isn’t she a genius!?