Edward chuckled and raised one perfect eyebrow. Bella grimaced. Jacob flushed under his russet skin. Edward chuckled again. His face was unreadable. Alice chagrined.  Bella gazed into Edward’s perfect face, marvelling at how the marble Adonis could love someone as plain as her. She grimaced. Edward raised one perfectly sculpted eyebrow and chuckled.

Repeat the above paragraph for 1500 pages and you have Twilight, New Moon, Eclipse and Breaking dawn.

OK, so the writing is terrible.  She’s not the first author who has a toxic relationship with adjectives.  Matthew Riley doesn’t seem to use them at all (aside from “super”) and often resorts to italics and even diagrams in their place. And both Riley and Meyer have managed to earn a fortune despite being unable to master their trade craft.  It’s not such a problem it seems, as long as one has a good story idea.

This is the point at which Riley and Meyer part ways.  I’m not a fan of Matty’s books; I’ve read a couple of them and have possibly grimaced once or twice myself. They read like a movie script.  They do have two things that Meyer’s books don’t though – plot, and themes.

The story of Twilight was supposedly loosely based on Romeo and Juliet. Young love against all odds.  Forbidden love.  Etcetera.

The problem is, their love isn’t forbidden. The Cullens have no problem, her parents haven’t forbidden her to see Edward, her friends think he’s hot.  The only real issue seems to be that he’s cold and she’s horny.  They don’t have to hide their relationship like R&J; there wasn’t even an issue with compatability in that she wasn’t the least bit put off by his sanguinivorous nature.  There’s no real conflict and zero character growth.  She sees him, falls in deep smit across a carpark, he glares at her, disappears for a few days and returns all nice and flirty.  So what exactly is the plot in Twilight, given that it’s not the beginning of their relationship?

One could argue that James trying to kill her might be the plot.  The problem with this is that James doesn’t turn up until around 2/3 of the way through the book and seems more of an afterthought, a ‘crap I need some tension and suspense in here somewhere’ moment.  So maybe it’s Bella moving away from her mother to a small town and figuring out her new life.  Bella goes to school, does OK, makes some friends, falls for a vampire.  She doesn’t change at all throughout the book; doesn’t grow as a person, has no particular insight into anything around her, and doesn’t do anything.   They don’t even buy a van and drive around the country solving mysteries. Yes – Scooby Do cartoons have more of a plot than Twilight does.

There’s also the small issue of character. They don’t have any. We are told Bella loves to read, but we never hear about any books other than Pride and Prejudice, Wuthering Heights and Romeo and Juliet (which they are studying in class).  Edward has been reading literature for a century; he knows it all off by heart.  Yet they never discuss books, never draw comparisons between real life and literature aside from the above books (and then, only briefly), and neither of them actually shows the slightest interest in reading. We’re told lots of things about these two people, and are given no evidence to support it. We’re told how gorgeous Edward is, yet he has chalky white skin, purple shadows under his eyes, and his irises are yellow.  What’s not to love?

We also never really learn much about either of them. Edward is over 100 and plays piano. Bella is clumsy and not good at sport.  That’s kind of it.  Bella has no aspirations in life, no hobbies or skills to mention.  We don’t know where Edward came from; who he was before he was a vampire.

Like Romeo and Juliet, Bella and Edward aren’t in love.  At best it’s a combination of lust and infatuation, and at worst it’s an unhealthy and abusive relationship.

Consider this. You have a friend who has a new boyfriend.  She tells you that she fell for him after one glance across a carpark. He didn’t seem to like her at first but in no time at all he was all over her. He sneaks into her bedroom when she’s asleep and watches her, and listens to her dream.  He took the engine out of her car to stop her visiting another friend whom he dislikes and mistrusts.  She has to phone that same friend in secret because he looks angry when he catches her talking to him.  They don’t really know each other well. They don’t talk about much except how into each other they are.  He often looks furious when she disagrees with him.  They have both attempted suicide when forced apart. He had to go away for a few days so he had his sister kidnap her and hold her hostage while he was gone.  He also bullied and manipulated her into agreeing to marry him, before she could get what she wanted out of the relationship.  But he does all this because he really, truly loves her so it’s ok.   You’re reaching for the Yellow Pages to find the domestic violence hotline just reading that, right? So why is it OK to put these ideas in fiction aimed at teens and young adults, to glamorise suicide and to perpetuate the notion that no girl is complete until the cutest boy in school smiles at her? Is it alright because he’s a vampire? That being treated like a possession and losing all free will is just dandy, as long as your suitor does it because he loves you?

I’m not even going to bother with the gaping holes in the story and Meyer’s insistence on scientifically explaining fantasy; that’s a whole other essay right there.  I will say though that it’s a shame she didn’t just sell the rights to the story to someone else.  Glittering aside, the story of a family of vegetarian vampires and shape-shifting Native Americans could have been a good one.   It just shouldn’t have been written like high school fan-fic or diary entries.