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lliiraContent*: hospital, car accident, head injury, smirking
So far, here are the things I've learned Stephenie Meyer writes about as if she were an alien who had once seen fifteen minutes of an Earth television drama, and decided to write a book based on it with no further research: public schools, weather, community organization, human behavior and feelings.
Now I get to add "hospitals" to the list. Whee!
The EMTs and nurses at the hospital have not drawn a curtain around Bella. Now they wheel Tyler's stretcher next to Bella. (He's one of her classmates.) He feels really really super bad. Bella even says he looks "a hundred times worse" than she feels (60). I'm not sure that's mathematically possible, considering how terrible Bella feels all the time; I'd expect anyone who feels one hundred times worse than that to be halfway through one of those Star Trek transporter accidents that leaves your cells mixed up with those of a redshirt and a tree.
While Tyler apologizes for being behind the wheel of the van that almost smooshed Bella, the nurses go to work on him, unwrapping his bandages. In complete silence. In front of another patient. Who is not his parent or girlfriend or even, as far as they know, his friend. The nurses don't say a word.
The reason for this is that Tyler and Bella wouldn't be able to have their conversation if either of them had any privacy or if the nurses kept interrupting. In this conversation, we learn that Tyler has no idea how Bella survived. He didn't see Edward pull her out of the way. (Tyler also doesn't recognize the name "Edward"; Bella has to say "Edward Cullen" before Tyler recognizes who she means, saying "Cullen?" Boys in my high school did not refer to each other by their last names, and I doubt boys in Meyer's high school did either. We're in a time warp here, and possibly a geographic warp too, to prep schools in 1910s England.)
This is atrocious writing. It's the kind of thing most people don't even need to learn not to do, that is how bad it is. You need these two characters to have this conversation. Okay, that's fine. Almost anyone would think of a way to get them together for this conversation in a somewhat sensible way, and try not to make anyone around them at the time behave like Twilight Zone robots in order for it to happen. Because almost everyone who writes any kind of fiction at all cares about telling a story. They want the reader to live in their world a bit. They might fumble it, but you can see that they tried.
Meyer, however, did not try. She created an impossible situation so she could most easily get from point A to point B. Tyler has to talk to Bella right now, Bella's in the hospital right now -- oh, we'll just wheel Tyler next to her and call it a day. Two teenagers, one male, one female. Next to each other. No curtains. The male was behind the wheel of the car that almost killed the female. Let's remove his bloody bandages in front of her. Let's not say a word while they're babbling on. Let's leave them lying there, alone, so the male may "harass" the female with his "constant apologies" (61).
This is the kind of thing I'm talking about when I say Twilight makes no sense. I don't care how sparkly you want to make your vampires, or what myths you want to create around them -- knock yourself out. After all, vampires aren't real. But people are real. Hospitals are real. When the writer doesn't care to this extent, it destroys the story. There is no momentum, no immersion. How can I care about characters who are cardboard cutouts, romping about randomly in a world that makes no sense?
From now on, take it as given that any time Meyer writes about anything, she gets it wrong. If I feel she gets something at all right -- buildings, landscapes, people, etc. -- I'll point it out.
Edward shows up to stand "at the foot of [Bella's] bed, smirking" (61). Here's something to point to when people claim Twilight follows traditional romance tropes: Edward's smirk. He is constantly laughing at Bella as if he is so above everything, especially her. I've never seen a hero do anything like this before. (Mr. Rochester comes the closest, but that was not supposed to be a positive character trait.) I've never even seen a villain smirk this much. And why is Edward smirking? (Twice on this page alone.) I have no clue. Even complete assholes need character motivation.
Edward tells Bella he's going to "spring" her from the hospital (61). Then a gorgeous man walks in, "handsomer than any movie star I'd ever seen." That's such a lazy description. Also, Bella's mouth drops open, that's how handsome this guy is. Pfft, lightweight. I once had a breast exam done by a doctor who was the second most handsome man I'd ever seen (the most handsome was a waiter), and my mouth never dropped open. Okay, I giggled a lot when he prodded my tummy, though I'm rarely at all ticklish when doctors do that, and my heart rate was way high, but I kept my mouth closed, damn it.
The doctor is pale and has circles under his eyes, and Bella figures out that he's Edward's father. He asks how she feels.
"I'm fine," I said, for the last time, I hoped. (62)
Bella hopes no one else will ask her how she feels. I guess we're supposed to see this as humble, or as her hating to be the center of attention, but I just think it makes her a colossal pain in the ass. Especially because she sighs with annoyance when he asks her again. Then when he asks her if her skull is tender, she says, "not really" and thinks, "I'd had worse." Um... how many head injuries has this girl had?
*I've decided to go for "content" rather than "trigger warning" because, well, I like it better. For one thing, it's a lot easier for me to think of "what stuff is there in this post?" than "what is there in this post that might possibly disturb someone?"
So far, here are the things I've learned Stephenie Meyer writes about as if she were an alien who had once seen fifteen minutes of an Earth television drama, and decided to write a book based on it with no further research: public schools, weather, community organization, human behavior and feelings.
Now I get to add "hospitals" to the list. Whee!
The EMTs and nurses at the hospital have not drawn a curtain around Bella. Now they wheel Tyler's stretcher next to Bella. (He's one of her classmates.) He feels really really super bad. Bella even says he looks "a hundred times worse" than she feels (60). I'm not sure that's mathematically possible, considering how terrible Bella feels all the time; I'd expect anyone who feels one hundred times worse than that to be halfway through one of those Star Trek transporter accidents that leaves your cells mixed up with those of a redshirt and a tree.
While Tyler apologizes for being behind the wheel of the van that almost smooshed Bella, the nurses go to work on him, unwrapping his bandages. In complete silence. In front of another patient. Who is not his parent or girlfriend or even, as far as they know, his friend. The nurses don't say a word.
The reason for this is that Tyler and Bella wouldn't be able to have their conversation if either of them had any privacy or if the nurses kept interrupting. In this conversation, we learn that Tyler has no idea how Bella survived. He didn't see Edward pull her out of the way. (Tyler also doesn't recognize the name "Edward"; Bella has to say "Edward Cullen" before Tyler recognizes who she means, saying "Cullen?" Boys in my high school did not refer to each other by their last names, and I doubt boys in Meyer's high school did either. We're in a time warp here, and possibly a geographic warp too, to prep schools in 1910s England.)
This is atrocious writing. It's the kind of thing most people don't even need to learn not to do, that is how bad it is. You need these two characters to have this conversation. Okay, that's fine. Almost anyone would think of a way to get them together for this conversation in a somewhat sensible way, and try not to make anyone around them at the time behave like Twilight Zone robots in order for it to happen. Because almost everyone who writes any kind of fiction at all cares about telling a story. They want the reader to live in their world a bit. They might fumble it, but you can see that they tried.
Meyer, however, did not try. She created an impossible situation so she could most easily get from point A to point B. Tyler has to talk to Bella right now, Bella's in the hospital right now -- oh, we'll just wheel Tyler next to her and call it a day. Two teenagers, one male, one female. Next to each other. No curtains. The male was behind the wheel of the car that almost killed the female. Let's remove his bloody bandages in front of her. Let's not say a word while they're babbling on. Let's leave them lying there, alone, so the male may "harass" the female with his "constant apologies" (61).
This is the kind of thing I'm talking about when I say Twilight makes no sense. I don't care how sparkly you want to make your vampires, or what myths you want to create around them -- knock yourself out. After all, vampires aren't real. But people are real. Hospitals are real. When the writer doesn't care to this extent, it destroys the story. There is no momentum, no immersion. How can I care about characters who are cardboard cutouts, romping about randomly in a world that makes no sense?
From now on, take it as given that any time Meyer writes about anything, she gets it wrong. If I feel she gets something at all right -- buildings, landscapes, people, etc. -- I'll point it out.
Edward shows up to stand "at the foot of [Bella's] bed, smirking" (61). Here's something to point to when people claim Twilight follows traditional romance tropes: Edward's smirk. He is constantly laughing at Bella as if he is so above everything, especially her. I've never seen a hero do anything like this before. (Mr. Rochester comes the closest, but that was not supposed to be a positive character trait.) I've never even seen a villain smirk this much. And why is Edward smirking? (Twice on this page alone.) I have no clue. Even complete assholes need character motivation.
Edward tells Bella he's going to "spring" her from the hospital (61). Then a gorgeous man walks in, "handsomer than any movie star I'd ever seen." That's such a lazy description. Also, Bella's mouth drops open, that's how handsome this guy is. Pfft, lightweight. I once had a breast exam done by a doctor who was the second most handsome man I'd ever seen (the most handsome was a waiter), and my mouth never dropped open. Okay, I giggled a lot when he prodded my tummy, though I'm rarely at all ticklish when doctors do that, and my heart rate was way high, but I kept my mouth closed, damn it.
The doctor is pale and has circles under his eyes, and Bella figures out that he's Edward's father. He asks how she feels.
"I'm fine," I said, for the last time, I hoped. (62)
Bella hopes no one else will ask her how she feels. I guess we're supposed to see this as humble, or as her hating to be the center of attention, but I just think it makes her a colossal pain in the ass. Especially because she sighs with annoyance when he asks her again. Then when he asks her if her skull is tender, she says, "not really" and thinks, "I'd had worse." Um... how many head injuries has this girl had?
*I've decided to go for "content" rather than "trigger warning" because, well, I like it better. For one thing, it's a lot easier for me to think of "what stuff is there in this post?" than "what is there in this post that might possibly disturb someone?"
no subject
Date: 2012-05-27 02:13 pm (UTC)This just conjures up the image of the Black Knight. If Bella had lost all her limbs and Carlisle asked her if she was hurt, she would think longer about it before replying, "Not really."
no subject
Date: 2012-05-28 04:39 pm (UTC)Here's something to point to when people claim Twilight follows traditional romance tropes: Edward's smirk. He is constantly laughing at Bella as if he is so above everything, especially her. I've never seen a hero do anything like this before.
I can't remember all the romance novels I've read, but they generally don't do this kind of thing anymore, no. But what's the most traditional to romance novels, imo, is the two PoVs. When a hero is kind of a dick, it's always offset by his point of view making it clear that he thinks she's a spy or helped kill his brother or whatever.
no subject
Date: 2012-05-29 05:47 am (UTC)And yeah, it's fine to have an antagonistic-at-first hero. But Meyer is taking it way the heck too far. First, Edward seems to hate Bella so intensely that it takes him all the self-control he has not to murder her right there because he hates her so much, and for no reason. Then, he switches to this smirking douchebag who laughs at and condescends to Bella even when he's not actually talking.
I think it's part of one of the larger problems Meyer has as a writer: she hits the reader over the head with things unceasingly. It's like she's afraid the reader won't remember what she wrote in the previous sentence, so she has to remind us that Bella hates herself and whatever's in front of her and Edward's a douche constantly. It's exhausting.