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Review: Stephanie Meyer’s Twilight Saga

I guess I was always going to get around to doing this anyway, so I might as well get it out of my system. What did I think of Twilight and its three sequels? I’ll try to write this review in broad strokes rather than dwelling on details, but there will be spoilers, so if you haven’t read the books and don’t want to know what happens . . . stop reading here.

Writing Style
Stephanie Meyer can paint a scene. She knows just the right details to sprinkle into her descriptions for the scenery to come to life in the reader’s head. The emotions of her characters are thick and tangible, causing the reader to feel the same things in empathy. Sometimes, however, she can stumble over her own prose, awkwardly using the same word twice or even thrice within one paragraph and unintentionally drawing attention to it. A zap-word, we call it. The dialog is generally passable, and often reverberates effectively with tension and emotion. Stephanie Meyer certainly knows how to tell a story. I’d file her along with Terry Goodkind into the category of “not such a great writer, but incredible storyteller.”

Thematic Elements
On the surface, the story is about a human and a vampire falling in love and making things work. Pretty silly, right? I know some people who are put off by the premise alone. But in the case of all fantasy, there are more fundamental issues in play than the surface details. Essentially, the theme that makes the story so compelling is the apparent impossibility of Bella and Edward’s love, made so because of the variance in their personal backgrounds, and the monumental decisions of self-sacrifice both of them make to be together. And that is a very real, very human experience, regardless of whether Edward Cullen has a heartbeat or not.

Characterization
The mystery that is Edward Cullen and his siblings immediately grabs you, stringing you out as you wait to discover the next thing about them. After the deeper mysteries have been revealed, the story keeps you going. Edward is sometimes rather controlling and exhibits some stalker-like behavior at first. Some of his actions are forgivable only because they’re done specifically with Bella’s personal safety in mind. But he later learns how to loosen his grip. Contrary to popular belief, he isn’t perfect, and displays some very human flaws.

Bella . . . well, she’s there. Her awkwardness and her self-deprecating humor are enough to convince the reader that she actually is human. Once in a while she feels the need to remind you of that fact with a panicky emotional overreaction, which can be quite amusing in itself. Usually she’s likable enough, and Meyer’s rendering of her emotions never fails to draw empathy, but overall, I don’t think she’s a very deep character. Her primary redeeming quality is the earnestness and constance of her love for Edward, although that does waver ever so briefly. Her morose reflections in New Moon may get a bit annoying though for some, though they didn’t really bother me.

Jacob, the Native American boy turned werewolf, is a likable and endearing character at first who turns into a self-absorbed vindictive jerk who doesn’t know how to let things be. I did not particularly enjoy his point of view section in Breaking Dawn all that much.

Alice rocks. ‘Nuff said about that.

Worldview
The story of Bella and Edward has some good qualities to it, along with a major, and ultimately fatal fault.

First, I must note that the biggest criticism I’ve seen in general reviews is the fact that Bella is a bad example for young women because she marries and then conceives a child so young, at age 18, before going to college. Scandalously, she accomplishes all this with the first guy she’s ever been in love with! Well, pardon me, but that’s a much better example than the pre-marital, free-love, trial-and-error sexual license that is so much more pervasive in young adult cultural icons. If it weren’t for the story’s fatal fault, I’d applaud it.

First the good:

Twilight gives props to creationism when Edward says there is no way he and Bella could have evolved by chance, and that the same creator who designed her must have designed him as well. Not an issue I expected to come up in a vampire story.

The story is radically pro-life. Bella refuses to give up her unborn baby even though keeping it means certain death. No ordinary baby this, since it’s also Edward’s child, it breaks bones when it kicks and demands human blood for nourishment (acquired from hospital donor banks). The delivery scene is like something out of a horror film.

The story is pro-marriage. Edward refuses to have relations with Bella before marriage, and refuses to turn her into a vampire until they are married. Bella has no such qualms and initially throws a fit about both, but she eventually comes to recognize the beauty of marriage and married life.

The story is pro-family . . . somewhat. Bella initially hides her relationship with Edward from her father, and the story appears to justify it by circumstance. It’s interesting to note that while Bella is the human, her parents are divorced and she’s rather distrusting of them. On the other hand, the Cullens are a model family, with a warmth and closeness between parents and most of the siblings, with respected authority structures and familial care, and little in the way of secrecy. The interior of Carlisle Cullen’s house is decorated by a giant cross . . . and it isn’t upside down.

The fatal fault:

The great sticking point of the Twilight Saga is entirely human in nature, and has nothing to do with it being a vampire story, which, as I said, is almost incidental backdrop for the thematic material. The real problem with the story is that it deifies romantic love. Love without the Triune God? As Admiral Ackbar says in Return of the Jedi, “It’s a trap!”

Certainly, Twilight is not alone. There are hundreds of love stories that do the same. In fact, any non-Christian love story will ultimately deify romantic love. But usually they’re more subtle. When Bella begins to say things like “I’d sacrifice my own soul to be with Edward for eternity,” that sort of brings the issue front and center. This deification displays itself in some weird and ugly ways, particularly in Breaking Dawn, which I won’t go into here.

Interestingly enough, Twilight models itself largely on the story of Shakespeare’s Romeo and Juliet, in which the lovers also stumble into the pitfall of deifying romantic love. Bella’s eagerness to offer her soul on the altar of love at all costs merely echoes Juliet’s appeal to Romeo to “swear by thy gracious self, which is the god of my idolatry.”

The difference between Twilight and Romeo and Juliet is that while Shakespeare’s play is a cautionary tale ending in tragedy, Bella and Edward commit the same offense but get to live happily ever after. While Romeo and Juliet warns young people against the dangers of deifying romantic love, Twilight positively revels in it.

Psychology
I’m adding this section after some discussion with Hannah Roorda and Laura LaPrise. It’s sort of a subset of the Worldview section, but I decided to separate it out.

There is a downfall to Stephanie Meyer’s deftly painted and highly empathetic characters. What they feel, the reader is made to feel as well. Be that love, fear, anxiety, depression, contentment, obsession, or physical desire. There is admittedly a great deal of difference between Twilight‘s long passages describing aching physical need for a person of the opposite sex and the interaction between them in Bella’s first person point of view and Shakespeare’s almost comically brief: They kiss.

Of course, Romeo and Juliet was written to be acted out on the stage, and that accounts for the brevity in the text. But prose has a powerful effect on the impressionable mind. Especially for those with vivid imaginations. Meyer avoids being graphic or explicit, but she gives more than enough for a reader to easily fill in the blanks.

Something should be said about the psychology involved in the widespread fan fascination with Edward. Another review observed, and I agree, that his appeal is because he offers to young women something they don’t get from real men.

In some ways, he is more of a man than most real men today. He sacrifices his needs and his very self against his own nature because he loves Bella. He takes control of situations, albeit sometimes with a heavy hand. He is the ultimate protector, disregarding even his own safety. And his love for Bella doesn’t drive him to give in to her every whim. He sets boundaries and sticks to them, more or less. Does this remind us of anything? It should. When a man displays these qualities in any combination and to any extent, young women are “wired” to respond in a certain way. Even if those qualities are displayed imperfectly. There is a theological reason for that.

I think when a cultural phenomenon like Twilight emerges, we should take notice of what exactly the appeal is. It might even shock us into realizing something we’ve been missing. Some will object that there are better materials to teach us that. I don’t doubt there are. The Bible is a good start. But sometimes a cultural phenomenon with its immediacy has more shock value for waking people up than a stack of “good” books.

Men today have forgotten how to be men. The feminist movement and the cry for total equality in roles as well as hierarchy has encouraged them to bend the authority structure and their very behavior to accommodate assertive women. Even those who don’t agree with feminism have been affected by a culture that neuters men and tries to empower women over them. When men won’t act like men, women are forced to step up and take control, whether they want to or not. But that goes against the natural created order. Men are still men, and women are still women. They innately know there’s something wrong with that picture. Men are responsible to lead, and women are created to follow.

Stephanie Meyer comes along and gives women something they are really looking for in a vampire named Edward Cullen. No, he’s not perfect. He has personality flaws. But Meyer has taken an ideal of masculinity and characterized it, exaggerating the virtues along with the faults. Young women everywhere have responded.

It’s interesting to note that the backlash against the series comes largely from two directions. Christians who are understandably and justifiably concerned with the effect that the series’ sensuality will have on young people . . . and feminists who can’t tolerate Bella’s submission of self to Edward.

Conclusion
I enjoyed the Twilight Saga while I was reading it (or rather, while I was listening to it on unabridged audio book). I am a quite a sucker for grand romantic tales of impossible love realized. But objectively, the Twilight Saga has a couple serious problems that would stop me from recommending it to anyone who might be especially susceptible to getting caught up in it all . . . which unfortunately includes most of its target audience of teen girls. I’d probably be more likely to recommend it to guys.

Will I read any additions to the series? Oh . . . probably. After all, it really is quite a rush.

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Prince Caspian (or, Andrew Adamson learns how to make a movie)

One’s opinion of Prince Caspian will depend greatly on what one is expecting. If you are hoping for a line-for-line book to screen translation of C.S. Lewis’s original material, go watch the Wonderworks version. You’ll enjoy it a lot more (that’s no slight; I enjoyed those as a kid). If, on the other hand, you’d like to see a masterful expansion of the core ideas in Lewis’s book that begins to approach epic, this is a film to watch. SPOILERS follow. If you continue reading, don’t say I didn’t warn you.

Director Andrew Adamson has gotten the hang of things. While The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe strays less from the source material, Prince Caspian is a much better movie.

Adamson and his cowriters have taken many things that Lewis only hinted at and fleshed them out a great deal. Layers have been added to the political struggle between Miraz and his councilmen, as well as to the relationship between Caspian and his uncle. Also fleshed out is the ambivalence of the Narnians about backing a Telmarine prince, descendant of the Conquerer that tried to wipe them out.

Possible (or even probable) character conflicts that were not explored by Lewis are also found here. The friction between Peter and Caspian is a good example. In the book Peter comes right out and assures Caspian that he has no wish to make a play for the throne, and Caspian glibly goes through the story with no unease about four ancient monarchs jumping out of legend just when he is trying to claim his place as king.

While Lewis probably thought these attitudes and actions would serve as good role models for children, a deeper and more mature characterization has benefited the film greatly, and in the end actually emphasizes the desperate need that the Narnians have for Aslan. Because these sons of Adam just can’t seem to get anything right.

Peter is having coming-of-age issues and is understandably troubled by seeing what he considers a foreign invader claiming right to lead the Narnians. Caspian, the rightful king by Telmarine descent understandably feels slighted when he’s shunted to second place when the four Pevensies arrive, and he’s filled with a spirit of vengeance when he finds that Miraz is responsible for his father’s death. This conflict between Peter and Caspian leads to what such conflicts often do: separate agendas resulting in spoiled plans and unnecessary bloodshed.

The cinematography and pacing of the film is far superior to its predecessor. This feels like a film, and not like a random collection of scenes haphazardly strung together. The battles are more convincing, and, as I said before, approaching epic proportions. The effects are more polished. More importantly, I felt that I could connect with the characters better. They are more human and less like cardboard cutout. And not all the characters are so wayward. Lucy serves as the shining light of faith that Aslan is near, and Edmund keeps Peter from veering too far off course.

The only thing that I thought perhaps was overplayed was the attraction between Susan and Caspian. I can understand why they did it (apart from marketing value), and why it works. I was always puzzled about the asexuality of the Pevensies. It is very odd that in all of their years as adults in Narnia, none of them ever marry. If they had produced heirs like other responsible monarchs maybe their kingdom wouldn’t have been overrun by Spanish pirates when they left Narnia.

Now, for the most part, I think the relationship between Susan and Caspian is tastefully done. They are young attractive people, and so the chemistry between them isn’t exactly out of place. Also it makes for a couple great lines (like Lucy to Susan: “What was that? ‘Maybe you’ll need to call me‘?”). But then sometimes it veers off on into a celebration of Hollywood glitz and kitsch. Caspian’s rescue of Susan, while cool, does feel kind of staged.

So what about the message of the film? Is Lewis’s original vision intact? Well, while I think probably Lewis might object to a few things (such as Susan’s active involvement in the battle, though I think he would be happy with Peter and Caspian’s chivalry), the picture of Aslan as savior still shines brightly. As I mentioned earlier, the deeply human flaws we see in the characters only serve to emphasize the need for Aslan. This is no more apparent than at the How (the stone table) where the White Witch is almost brought back from the dead. It becomes very clear. These people are lost without him. Also, Aslan’s absence is felt so sharply that the film very effectively avoids a deus ex machina (the “Dude, where’d the lion come from?” effect) at the conclusion when Aslan finally appears.

Overall, Prince Caspian is a very good effort, and a satisfying film experience. Again, if you’re looking for slavish adherence to the book, you will be disappointed. But if you are open to seeing C.S. Lewis’s story enriched with a complexity not found in the book, this is a film to see. I am no longer worried about Adam Adamson at the helm of Lewis’s classic books. The director has finally figured out how to make a movie, and the series is now in good hands. If the remaining installments show the same level of improvement in movie-making quality, they will become classic films in their own right.