In Which We Still Don't Get An Actual Preface
Edward is in danger while protecting Bella.
End of "preface"
SumUp: Incomplete
OK, I let this slide for a while, but since we effectively have a single page of story that would fit on the back dust-jacket, I'm going to go ahead and complain. THIS is not a preface.
In literary terms a preface is a note from the author that introduces the book. It's a direct line of communication from Author to Reader in the voice of the author. Hi, I'm Stephenie Meyer and here's what I think, thanks for the piles of cash, hope you like the book. Something like that
The literary term for any story that precedes the first chapter is PROLOGUE.
Now classically a prologue isn't a foreshadowing mini-chapter at the front of a book, but being in character voice and coming before the first chapter, it's close enough. NOTE that every book in this saga has had an Epilogue (and a quick check shows this one does, as well) so clearly someone at LB&C has access to a manual on dramatic structure. Why they insist on calling this a preface is beyond me.
The PROLOGUE in book 1 gave us a scene in which Bella dies. It's not hard to determine that it's her vampire-conversion scene, which hasn't happened yet so that makes it a bit odd. The prologue in book 2 gave us the climax of the book and was a horrible mistake of revelation on Meyer's part. This book's prologue is just a little drop of excitement before we jump into the more exposition-heavy first few chapters. That's fine, in fact it's more than fine, it's great. It's a little hors d'oevre of action to whet our appetite before the meat and potatoes. I can handle that.
BOOK 3: Eclipse OR Hey, Here's an actual Preface
On the table in front of me is Eclipse, the third book of der Twilight Saga. I haven't read any of it yet, which is unusual after the system I adopted for the first few books where I didn't really start blogging until after reading a solid chunk of the book.
It's just that I'm really not looking forward to this at all.
No, that's not it. I'm actively dreading opening this book.
As I sat with Twilight, I was somewhat nervous because I expected it would be boring, silly and unrealistic fluff. A saccharine-infused collision between teen/tween romance and silly vampires. I knew about the sparkles. I knew about the no-sex drama. I dove in thinking it would be fun to make fun of, and to some extent, it was.
Sitting down with book 2, I expected more of the same. I hadn't despised reading Twilight, it was silly and disjointed and I thought the romance was as believable as those Swiffer mop commercials (where your old mop finds romance with a rake in the garage, those things make me laugh), but the only things I really hated were Meyer's climactic let-down, the bizarre plot structure and the incessant angst over the paper-thin "true love".
But here we are. Book 3. Eclipse. The final few chapters of Book 2 were nightmarish. Edward's emotional abuse of Bella. Bella's final shift from interesting recovering wuv-addict to eternal damsel in distress. The astonishing collapse of yet another climax. I cannot think of any book I have ever read, any movie I've ever seen, any item of any kind of fiction media that I've ever encountered that has frustrated and affronted and disappointed me to this degree. This wasn't fun this wasn't work this was torture. Midway through New Moon, I was very close to forgiving Meyer for the silly missteps of the first book. Very close to labeling the detractors as haters. I wasn't going to be a fan by any stretch, but the series was inching very close to the fluffy romance novel that I had all but dismissed it as when I heard about it. By the climax I was back to thinking the book was a train wreck and by the end... Oh, the end...
Now, holding this mass of pulp and cardboard and ink, I am dejected. I vowed to read it all, to ferret out every annoyance, every flaw and every gem. I don't want to read this or the book after or the side novellas or anything else with Bella Swan or Edward the Cruel as characters. There is no quiet optimism or amused patience or stoic determination left within me. I cannot imagine this will be anything but a horrible chore and I can only hope my misery inspires amusement or prevents another from walking this dark path.
Since I have a few weeks of buffer thanks to the blog's scheduler, I'm going to try and clear my head and square my shoulders for this task. I have a stack of literature (real literature) to reset my mind and cleanse my palate. After, I will scrape up every single tattered scrap of objectivity I have left and plow in. For you, dear reader, there should be a seamless transition between today and Wednesday's post. I hope.
Onward, the, through the gates of Styx.
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