New Moon

I am totally insane. Even though I totally dissed Twilight in this blog, I have an obsession with series and read New Moon.

Why do I intentionally put myself through such dreck?

New Moon is only a slight improvement over Twilight. The book has two things going for it:

First, I had no expectations going in. I already knew it would be a poorly-written romance—and Meyer did not disappoint.

Second, Bella, our heroine, and Edward, her prince, are separated throughout much of the novel. Though many readers were probably distressed by this turn of events, I was delighted. If they aren’t near each other, Bella and Edward can’t do any of their disgusting, gut-wrenching touching. Blech.

In one way, though, the book is more painful than Twilight because Bella now has two admirers. And, truth be told, there is very little to admire in Bella. She is one of the weakest females in print. She spends her life moping and fainting. Why would one, let alone two, hot guys like her? (Obviously, Meyer is experiencing some wish fulfillment here.)

Meyer, much like Rowling (who she is now erroneously being compared to), desperately needs a more forceful editor. New Moon is over 500 pages long and very little happens in those pages. I often found my mind—and my eye—wandering because she fills the book with meaningless fluff and repetitions. She obviously needs to read Richard Lanham’s Revising Prose again and start cutting out the lard.

Unfortunately, the series has the same addictive properties for me as Days of Our Lives and Passions. The soap operas are absolute drivel, but I just have to know what happens next (and check out that hottie Elvis, Junior).

Unfortunately, I do want to know what happens next in Meyer’s series, and I am even contemplating doing the unthinkable: buying Eclipse. Shoot me now.