In a search of recent "LGBT" young adult novels, Maureen Johnson's The Bermudez Triangle (recently republished as On the Count of Three) pops up prett...moreIn a search of recent "LGBT" young adult novels, Maureen Johnson's The Bermudez Triangle (recently republished as On the Count of Three) pops up pretty early on. I procrastinated reading this for a long time, partially because I have learned what to expect from so-called mainstream queer YA. I was mildly intrigued enough by the re-issued copy to splurge on it at Barnes & Noble, all in the name of research of course.
The thing is, I really want to like this book. I would have given it four stars, aside from a few things. I loved the three best friend characters and I think Johnson did a really great job of developing the three of them individually. It helps that the book is entirely in third person, switching between the perspectives of Mel, Avery, and Nina. The reader learns how these three think without having to delve completely into a first person account of their inane ramblings (we all have inane ramblings, after all). I think the premise of this book is really great. It's not just a coming-out story; it's the story of three girls coming of age and figuring out who they are and who they want to be in the future. This is definitely one of the more realistic YAs I've ever read and although I found some of the details (particularly the random brand-name references that appeared throughout) to be overwhelming, I'd rather have an over-detailed world than one with no details at all. It was easy to get attached to these three girls in their world, especially their varying relationships.
I'll be honest: I was rooting for Mel and Avery the whole time. A romantic relationship with your best friend? Count me in. I've read reviews commenting on the "innocence" of the book, in that all we ever see the girls do is make out, but I don't necessarily see this as a bad thing. The early stages of their relationship made me smile in spite of myself. I certainly liked Mel and Avery better than Nina and Steve. Steve felt rather under-developed and definitely stereotyped, so I don't know how Johnson expected the reader to root for him and Nina. (view spoiler)[When they break up halfway through the book, it came as a relief to me, since I saw what was happening all along. (hide spoiler)] It's not that I don't believe in long-distance relationships, but Nina was clearly putting in more effort and had more invested. (view spoiler)[When Nina and Parker sort of start not-dating, I was pleasantly surprised. (hide spoiler)] Parker is probably my second-favorite character in the entire book. He's quirky and weird and nice. Maybe he doesn't have his whole life figured out at 17, but who does? I wanted him to end up with Nina so badly, (view spoiler)[ but then, out of the blue, here comes Steve again. Parker reacts dramatically to Nina's relationship with Steve, but I can't really blame him. (hide spoiler)]From an outsider's perspective, Nina is pathetically holding on to someone who's only interested in a relationship if it's convenient.
But the relationship disappointments are the least of my concern when it comes to my rating for this book. Most of my issues come down to the way Johnson deals with the queer aspect of the story - arguably what the entire book is about. We have Mel, who--thank god!--isn't your stereotypical closeted lesbian. She has always known that she liked girls, but "the only thing she'd never done was write the word in the caption of the self-portrait that she'd kept in her head" (45). This is the beginning of the struggle with labels in this book. Other than a few instances, Mel refers to herself (and is referred to) as gay, not lesbian. I don't know enough about lesbian politics to know if this is intentional and realistic, or just a slip on Johnson's part as a heterosexual cis-woman. That being said, I think Johnson deals with homo/lesbo-phobia very realistically, particularly when you consider this book is almost a decade old. Mel and Avery's entire relationship seems to revolve around visibility, especially Avery's fear of it. Where Mel reacts to being outted pragmatically with a minimum of embarrassment, Avery seems to live in fear of being seen as gay, (view spoiler)[which is arguably why Mel and Avery break up (hide spoiler)]. The reader is led to sort of hate Avery for being so secretive and scared of her own sexuality, but can you really blame her when you see the environment she lives in? Both Avery and Mel have some serious internalized homophobia (and biphobia, which I'll get to later). Mel's mom's reaction to finding out Mel is gay is a great example of this; she points out all the ways this is going to "ruin" Mel's life. While Mel is portrayed as girly and cute, Avery realizes that she "would be seen as the rough dyke who lusted after the cheerleaders and couldn't be trusted in the locker room after gym" (161). The irony is that Mel actually is a lesbian, whereas Avery refuses to admit what she is at all.
This brings me to the major reason I can't say I like The Bermudez Triangle: the somewhat random and unacknowledged biphobia*, and the result of turning against Avery. While Mel is a "gold-star lesbian" who knew all along and never really dated boys, Avery admits that she's confused and insists several times that she's not gay. At one point, she considers sitting with the other queer kids in the cafeteria, but then rejects that idea since she doesn't relate to any of them--nor does she want to be associated with bisexuals like "Felicia Clark, the outspoken 'if you have a pulse, I'm interested' bisexual sex addict" (121). When Nina asks Avery about her sexuality, Avery becomes embarrassed when asked if she likes guys and girls. Bisexuality becomes associated with excessive sexuality. For Avery, "something about that question made her feel like..a glutton. Like she wanted everyone. Guys, girls, dogs, cats, populations of whole cities" (186). A conversation between Avery and Mel reveals Avery's resistance to labels of any kind, a kind of confusion that delegitimizes almost everything Avery does.
"I'm not gay." Avery said it again, very clearly and sternly. "Okay," Mel said, trying to be conciliatory. "You're bi." "Stop trying to tell me what I am!" Avery snapped. Mel stepped back in shock. She could understand that Avery might not feel comfortable being labeled gay--Mel still had trouble with this sometimes--but being bi wasn't exactly something she could deny. "This isn't the same as other people," Avery went on. "The bi girls, they go back and forth. We're just…together (152).
While at the time, what Avery says sounds sort of romantic, setting her and Mel apart from labels, her statement appears invalid when viewed in the context (view spoiler)[of her rebound with Gaz not too much later in the novel (hide spoiler)]. I glanced through a lot of other reviews, a lot of whom were very adamant about hating Avery as a character. In so many ways, Avery is the stereotypical confused, slutty bisexual: she gets involved in a serious, monogamous 'lesbian' relationship, but then her inherent bisexuality gets in the way and she goes off and sleeps with a guy because she can't handle the pressure of being a lesbian. She has heterosexual privilege since her relationship with Mel represents her lesbian phase. And because she's so sexually confused, she ends up pushing away her two best friends. She's so confused she can't even decide if she wants to apply to music school or not.
I feel like the queer community is supposed to just love Maureen Johnson for writing this ground-breaking lesbian young adult novel as a straight woman. And then on top of that she's representing bisexuals too! The thing is, it's not enough to write queer characters. It's not enough to represent multiple sexual identities, especially when they're portrayed stereotypically and not analyzed whatsoever. I wouldn't have minded the slut-shaming and the biphobic stereotypes if Johnson had just paused to analyze them, rather than portraying them as a statement of fact. Ultimately, this book really upset me. Sure, it's almost ten years old, but the reality is that bisexual people are still erased, still stereotyped, and no one wants to talk about it. So yes, I'm angry at being represented by unquestioned stereotypes. I'm also angry that this is one of the 'best' lesbian young adult books out there. Ladies, we deserve more.
*For this analysis, I'm indebted to Sheri Eisner's Bi: Notes for a Bi Revolution, which I'm currently reading alongside other books.["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>(less)
I got bored when I figured out how it was going to end.
My major problem with this book was the fact that I wanted so much more. The font was massive,...moreI got bored when I figured out how it was going to end.
My major problem with this book was the fact that I wanted so much more. The font was massive, making me feel like I was reading a kids' book (YA does not equal kids' in my opinion). Essentially, I expected more from this book, so I stopped reading.(less)
I am really torn about this book. On the one hand, the writing voice was really strong, particularly for a first-person YA novel. I enjoyed the little...moreI am really torn about this book. On the one hand, the writing voice was really strong, particularly for a first-person YA novel. I enjoyed the little bits and pieces of meta writing included throughout, which I felt was well-done and not too heavy-handed. On the other hand, it took me until maybe 75% of the way through the book to even begin to connect with John/Gio, the protagonist.
I've thought a lot about why I dislike John as a character. I think it starts from his initial self-characterization, where he declares that he's "immune to emotion." I realize this is a very masculine trait in our society, and I sympathize with John's messed up family situation as a cause of his emotionless behavior. Maybe I just have my own baggage that I'm bringing to the story, but I am honestly sick and tired of men refusing to deal with their emotions, so right off the bat I was sort of irritated with John. And while I wanted to appreciate the friendship he develops with Marisol, I wanted to smack him for having a crush on her. For one thing, he denies his feelings for her for most of the novel. For another thing, he doesn't deal with it appropriately when he discovers it. And finally, I'm at a loss for why this plot needs to be written yet again. As if straight people falling in love with gay people isn't already a cliche in society--although I think it's worse for straight girls/gay guys. Maybe this plot line is realistic, but it made me uncomfortable, and I worry that it perpetuates the rift that still exists between people who identify as "queer" and people who don't. But on the other hand, it's at least less cliche than boy-meets-girl and the queer reversal plots. Like I said, I'm very conflicted about this book.
That being said, I kept reading this book because of Marisol. I love her as a character. I think she's fascinating and deep, and I wanted to see more of her, so I picked up "companion novel" called Love & LIes: Marisol's Story. I gave this book 3 stars because, like I said, I kept reading it, and the writing was fresh. I just didn't really connect to the story as much as I have with other YAs under the umbrella of "queer."(less)
This book is without a doubt the best book I’ve read in months, and definitely the best queer YA I’ve ever encountered. The flawless writing shows tha...moreThis book is without a doubt the best book I’ve read in months, and definitely the best queer YA I’ve ever encountered. The flawless writing shows that Danforth has some serious academic credentials on her side, and she does a great job creating Cameron’s voice to the point that she felt like a close friend of mine. I’ve never even been close to Montana, but Danforth’s descriptions created a vivid picture in my mind to the extent that I almost felt like the setting itself was a character in the story.
Aside from basic writing technique, this is the best queer book I’ve read so far for several reasons. For one thing, Danforth explores Cameron’s sexuality starting around puberty, which is something I hadn’t seen before and leaves ample room for her to explore all of the problems Cameron faces. She has to figure out the basic mechanics of lesbian sexual encounters sort of on her own, another thing I haven’t really seen an author actively face head on. Danforth develops Lindsey as a sort of queer mentor character who encourages Cameron to be true to herself as well as providing her with some sexual experience. I admire Danforth for tackling the relationship of Christianity to the development of a gay character. While I can see how the intensity of the religious backlash might not seem realistic to a lot of readers, I totally believed it, having grown up in a conservative environment. Despite exposing the truly hateful and ultimately ineffectual way religion tries to “cure” homosexuality, Danforth never once blames God or Christianity in general, or even really the characters who act out their religion, but merely portrays it as an action of people who fervently believe what they’re doing is right.
All these aspects were important factors toward my enjoyment and appreciation of this book, but most importantly I applaud the way Danforth deals with romance. Even though a lot of the book focuses on Cameron’s passionate affair with Coley, a so-called straight girl, that ultimately isn’t the story’s focus. This book isn’t a romance, and it isn’t really about Coley at all. Sure, I rooted for Cameron to get closer to Coley, and I wanted Coley to admit that she’s in love with Cameron. Part of me even wanted Coley to come out as bisexual, at least to herself. At the same time, I found Coley’s betrayal extremely realistic. She’s scared, she doesn’t know what happened and she can’t accept her own same-sex attraction, so she reacts the only way she knows how—letting other people do her dirty work. Yet I don’t find myself truly hating Coley, or the Jesus freaks who make Cameron miserable. Instead I find myself hating a society that refuses to accept people based on their sexual and romantic preferences.
Ultimately, the only problem I have with this book is that I wish I could’ve seen Cameron keep growing through the rest of high school and even college. Nevertheless, this book is fantastic and I will recommend it to anyone I know who will listen long enough.(less)
This book floated across my tumblr dashboard for years before I finally checked it out of the library, but I’m so glad I did. It certainly wasn’t the...moreThis book floated across my tumblr dashboard for years before I finally checked it out of the library, but I’m so glad I did. It certainly wasn’t the lightest read—telling the story of a young girl, Liesel, living in an impoverished neighborhood in Nazi Germany, whose love of words leads her to stealing the occasional book to sustain her need—but it was still somehow enjoyable.
Things that made this a success, in my eyes:
1) the language. For a young adult novel, Zusak spares nothing when it comes to well-crafted prose. He also spares no gruesome details. I found myself stopping on occasion to simply process one of the narrator (Death)’s statements.
2) the concept. I didn’t realize how fascinated I was by World War II, particularly the German side of it. My whole life, I’ve heard the patriotic stories of America’s entrance into the war, but I hadn’t really considered the perspective of the Germans. It’s not that I was raised to hate Germans, but certainly Hitler. Zusak doesn’t make Hitler innocent, that’s for sure, but the image of the German people, the ones who had to cower and hide in order to remain out of the blow of the Nazis… that’s what stuck with me about the image of tyranny.
3) Liesel. Such a wonderfully crafted young character, and yet, despite her nationality and her impoverished circumstances, I found myself relating to her, sympathizing with her thirst for stories. I was lucky enough to grow up with a library card, but Liesel has to steal books to keep her soul alive. Zusak shows her growth in spirit, as well, over almost five years, and by the time the book ended, I wasn’t ready to let her go.
4) the lack of romance. I have read many young adult books in my day, and most of them, particularly the ones about girls, are mostly about romantic love in varying circumstances. To my relief, there is none of that in The Book Thief. Although Liesel grows to love her best friend, Rudy, she never acts on it, and only truly realizes it near the end of the book. Instead of focusing on the budding sexuality and romantic feelings between the two young characters, Zusak focuses on the depth and uniqueness of their friendship.(less)
**spoiler alert** I feel like I’m supposed to like this book, since it’s one of the first young adult lesbian books, and since I’m working up an outli...more**spoiler alert** I feel like I’m supposed to like this book, since it’s one of the first young adult lesbian books, and since I’m working up an outline for a similar novel. A full nine years after its initial publication, Keeping You A Secret is still a bit of a classic as far as young adult GLBTQ books go, and while that isn’t saying much, it was the most common pop-up on google searches in the genre.
Maybe it’s because I felt obligated to read it, or maybe because I’m burnt out at the moment, but I didn’t really enjoy it as much as I’d hoped. I commend Peters for unabashedly examining not only the process of self-discovery but what happens when you’re outed before you had a chance to come out on your own. The protagonist, Holland, is actually a lot like my main character, although I read this book after creating my character: Holland has everything going for her, is popular, pretty, has a great boyfriend, president of student council, etc. but it’s all built on lies she tells everyone around her based on perceived expectations of her. When you look at it that way, it’s no wonder everyone in her life abandons her when they discover she’s a lesbian: all of those lies collapse in on themselves, and you can’t blame Holland’s mom for feeling like she doesn’t even know her anymore.
I was really struck by the mother-daughter relationship, and by the realistic, if heart-breaking, portrayal of Holland’s descent into a street youth. We like to think that these kinds of parents don’t really exist, that they’re an overdramatic extreme that rarely occurs in reality, but from what I understand, it’s not actually uncommon for parents to kick their gay or lesbian teenagers out of the house. Even though there were aspects of this book that felt dated to me, particularly in the openness of the homophobia in what appears to be a non-religious community, it certainly got me thinking about how much hasn’t changed in the past decade.
That being said, I struggled with the over-emphasis on romance in this text. I understand that it’s often one individual who enables a gay teen to open up to the possibility of a gay identity, and I fully understand the importance of romance to the teen genre. I only wish that there had been a little less focus on the intense romantic bond between Holland and Cece, and more on Holland’s individual self-discovery.
Nevertheless, I think this is a really important and somewhat ground-breaking book, and I’m glad I read it. (less)
This collaborative effort between John Green and David Levithan popped up a quick search of GLBTQ Young Adult literature, so I read it for ‘research’...moreThis collaborative effort between John Green and David Levithan popped up a quick search of GLBTQ Young Adult literature, so I read it for ‘research’ for my novel. I have a growing love affair with John Green’s work as it is, so it wasn’t difficult to get me to read Will Grayson, Will Grayson, and it certainly gave me an interesting perspective.
From reading Looking For Alaska and now this book, I really enjoy the way he combines an examination of the lives of fringe teenagers, those who don’t quite fit in, with the element of what I like to call young adult fantasy—not in the sense of mystical creatures, but in the portrayal of the kind of fun I feel like most readers wish they had. The obtaining of fake IDs is taken for granted, as is underage drinking, both of which are a bit foreign to my experiences of high school, but it gives us an image of way more fun than I ever had at that age.
As far as the portrayal of teenage sexual questionings, my reactions get a little more complicated. Tiny Cooper is the classic fabulous gay guy, out and proud and in your face, so of course I love him, since he reminds me of a high school version of so many guys I know. He’s absolutely hilarious, “not the world’s gayest person, and…not the world’s largest person who is really, really gay, but I believe he may be the world’s largest person who is really, really gay” (3). He’s a serial dater, which is incredibly believable for someone that age and someone who’s openly gay, and I’ll admit that. I love that Will is best friends with Tiny, and Tiny’s sexuality never poses a problem; so often, a gay guy character is only friends with a straight guy because he wants to get in the guy’s pants or ‘make him gay,’ which is just stupid. About halfway through the book, I got mad at Tiny, both for being self-absorbed and for being a flat stereotype. I am obviously passionate about the necessity of portraying realistic gay characters in the stories we provide young adults, but I feel like Tiny leaves a lot to be desired. I recognize his resonance with our culture, but I just wish he would’ve challenged more, been a little more ambiguous.
That being said, there were so many things I loved about this. I loved Jane, the way you expect her to be plain but she turns out to be so complicated and intelligent and powerful as a character. I loved both Wills, because I could relate to both of them. I was that depressed kid, although I didn’t recognize it at the time, and I felt incredibly misunderstood by everyone around me. I was also the silent kid, the invisible one, the one who felt unimportant compared to peers. And, despite Tiny’s serial dating, the treatment of teenage romance surprised me and even showed me perspectives I hadn’t seen before. Perhaps the top reason I admire John Green so much, though, is the way he manages to insert little bits of wisdom without being obvious or distracting from the plot. I highlighted all over the place. Apparently even at 22, a young adult novel can still teach me things—and that’s the way I feel it should be.
“Maybe tonight you’re scared of falling, and maybe there’s somebody here or somewhere else you’re thinking about, worrying over, fretting over, trying to figure out if you want to fall, or how and when you’re gonna land, and I gotta tell you friends to stop thinking about the landing, because it’s all about falling. …Maybe there is something you’re afraid to say, or someone you’re afraid to love, or somewhere you’re afraid to go. It’s gonna hurt. It’s gonna hurt because it matters” (305).(less)
I picked up this book an a recommendation from one of my close friends and my best writing helper. At first I was hesitent: I try to avoid young adult...moreI picked up this book an a recommendation from one of my close friends and my best writing helper. At first I was hesitent: I try to avoid young adult fiction because it so often avoids the issues I feel I dealt with at that age, and the literary value is generally lower level than anything taught in a college course (exception: The Hunger Games and most other young adult dystopias). But as soon as I got into this book, I knew it was different. First of all, I'm a sucker for stories about boring schools for high school kids; something about that environment is fascinating to me since it's a weird border between adulthood and childhood. Second of all, the issues John Green deals with in this novel far surpass most of what I've ever found in young adult fiction. Despite the various ways that the characters do adult things (they're constantly smoking and drinking, which seems impossible to me), their situations feel so real, and the way they respond to life's issues is incredibly real. It was a sad book, but hopeful at the same time, and extremely smart.(less)
I had meant to pick up this book a long time ago, since I somehow missed reading it around eighth grade, but for some reason ended up finally getting...moreI had meant to pick up this book a long time ago, since I somehow missed reading it around eighth grade, but for some reason ended up finally getting to it over Spring Break this semester. This history of the story is fascinating. Apparently S.E. Hinton grew up in Tulsa, Oklahoma (read: my homeland), and wrote the book when she was in high school, and now it has become somewhat of a young adult classic (although perhaps more so around here). The story follows a gang of "greasers" but shows you the inside story on what it's like to be an outsider. The class system was what interested me most, since I feel like it rings true today. The greasers are lower class, with no money and often times absent or negligent parents. They're not unintelligent, but rather lacking in any motivating force. Once they start to get into trouble, it seems, the adults within the institutions stop taking them seriously outside of their role as trouble makers. In contrast, Hinton presents the picture of the Socs, the moneyed set of kids who go around beating up greasers because it's the best entertainment around. Hinton sets up this realistic world, and then lets us watch as things play out. I won't give anymore away, but it only took me a couple days to plow through it, so I would recommend it to anyone, especially for a nice brain break.(less)
This is the first book I read on my kindle, and I loved it! I never thought I would get an e-reader, since I do love the smell and feel of books. Afte...moreThis is the first book I read on my kindle, and I loved it! I never thought I would get an e-reader, since I do love the smell and feel of books. After thinking about it, though, I realized that I would end up saving a lot of money and physical space this way, especially since half of what I read is already on public domain. I still have a lot of actual books, and I’m reading two paperbacks right now; I will never stop reading the printed word.
A friend from work recommended this book to me. I have to admit that I was hesitant at first: I don’t read a lot of young adult books anymore, mostly because writers tend to slack when they’re writing for kids. But once I started reading I realized that The Hunger Games is different. In fact, I’m rather shocked that this is considered a kids’ book. It’s not just another high school love story, and it doesn’t necessarily have the pat happy ending I’ve come to expect from young adult fiction. This book is, for lack of a better description, deep.
I think the reason I love this so much is because it’s an excellent dystopia. I absolutely love dystopias, and as I was reading this I tried to sort out why. I think what makes this so good is that, even though these characters live in a world that’s hardly recognizable and deal with situations I’ve never encountered, the human condition remains the same. Although Katniss (the protagonist) lives in a world completely controlled by the Capitol, forced to obey their demands and work hard to survive while they get fat off of others’ labor, there are aspects of her situation that ring true with the way the world is today. The basic premise of the novel is that each year, 24 tributes from around the country are randomly selected and forced to fight to the death until only one winner remains. While they fight, the whole world watches the tributes’ every move, reminding me of a sick reality TV show. The Gamemakers sit and watch, sending in difficulties and traps at every turn, and I found myself thinking about how obsessed we are with video games in this country. Through the guise of young adult literature, Suzanne Collins asks us to question the world we live in, where it’s considered normal to sit around in your pajamas playing Call of Duty and slaughtering millions of computer-generated people as stress relief, where we watch our preferred reality show without asking ourselves why exactly we find it so entertaining.(less)
I had five days left until school started after I finished Fight Club, and my friend and I were in Walmart, and there was the paperback copy for only...moreI had five days left until school started after I finished Fight Club, and my friend and I were in Walmart, and there was the paperback copy for only $11. I said, “Sure, what the heck. I can read 754 pages in five days. That’s nothing.” I did it too.
I’m not the hugest fan of Stephanie Meyer. Actually, I sort of detest her on a level that’s sort of difficult to explain. Part of it is the fact that she has a degree (albiet from the Mormon college but I try not to judge), and she has written these books that sell so well. That was my dream at one point: to write bestsellers, to be a household name like Nora Roberts or Stephen King. Now I’m not so sure. Do I really want to be someone who spits out novels like a candy machine, keeping people addicted? I’d rather be like Harper Lee, write one book that sticks with people for generations, so much so that it’s still read in high schools today.
Here’s the truth of my feelings about the Twilight books: the stories are great, so much so that I can’t put them down, but the shoddy writing style tends to distract me. Meyer has this tendency to create more paragraph breaks than are truly necessary, like they’re supposed to be for emphasis, but they happen so often that the effect is lost. I guess kids can’t read long paragraphs anymore (which is a problem).
Also, her characters are rather under-developed. Bella is not as intelligent as Meyer wants her to be, considering the only book Bella ever reads is Wuthering Heights (which I read my junior year of high school). Bella constantly complains that she hates being a teenager, that she’s never really been a teenager because of taking care of her mom, but it’s just irritating to me. If she was really so mature, she would still have a will of her own, a life outside of her boyfriend. I don’t care how much you love someone, you should always remain your own separate person. Bella is whiney: in the third book, I had to put it down for a few hours to stop seething, because she was complaining about being away from Edward for a whole three hours a day. Trying being separated for whole months of difficult college semesters, as one of my friends had to deal with two years ago—that’s hardship.
My friends kept telling me that the fourth book got better, but I didn’t believe them. Now I see how right they were. It’s as if Meyer sat down to write the fourth book and actually decided to use at least a fraction of her potential as a writer. Perhaps it’s because the events in Breaking Dawn are much more exciting than the previous three books combined, but I found it no trouble to read 150 pages a day of it until I finally finished it this afternoon. Bella’s perspective seemed much more mature in the fourth book, as did her relationship with Edward. The writing improved as well, probably because Meyer was so excited about writing the intense situations in the last installment of her book. I think my favorite part of the book was how she inserted an entire chunk of the book that was only from Jacob’s perspective. Jacob has his flaws too, but it was refreshing to really understand how he was feeling. He’s less whiney, even though he has something to whine about (since Bella treats him like crap). I have to say though, my favorite part was when Bella “spewed a fountain of blood.” It just makes me laugh. Sorry.
I realized that the reason I hate Stephanie Meyer stems from one of my pet peeves with people in general. I knew this girl in high school who frustrated me so much. She whined about all the homework we got in AP classes, even though she chose to take the classes. She wasn’t stupid; in fact, her ACT scores were higher than mine. The problem with this girl was that she took things for granted and refused to apply herself, leaving a lot of wasted potential that others would kill for. That’s how I feel about Stephanie Meyer: she has editors, and plenty of people willing to help her, and she is clearly powerful enough to publish a load of shit and still get paid big money for it. She just wastes all this potential for storytelling, for writing in general, to make bestsellers for whine teenage girls. That’s why I’ll never be her. Thank God.(less)