I’ve written exhaustively about how much I read, how reading and music are the constants in my life–the two always in the foreground and background of my days. As a writer I try to read widely, usually with four books stacked on my bedside table. I’ve taken off the shackles of snobbishness about literary fiction by venturing into genre fiction. My last such foray was a headlong dive into historical fiction, an interest which got peaked by a fellow writer’s start of a historical novel about Henry the 8th’s first wife. Before I knew what had happened, I had trampled through all of Phillipa Gregory’s works and was tracking down others, more noted in England but less so here. I admit all of this to see how reading for me still even in middle age can transport me where time seems irrelevant, where my bedside table can burn long after my poor husband has fallen asleep. Although age has done much to change me, this bit of my makeup remains unchanged—reading like an adolescent where reading with a flashlight under the bed covers would occur five or six nights out of the week.
So, it was with great curiosity that I bought “Twilight” since one of dear friends from grad school had just published his own YA (Young Adult) novel. I knew that the YA market was considered a growing one, although I doubt those who make such claims. I was once one of those readers, an absolute devotee of Judy Blum’s many books. I don’t recall our demographic dictating publishing trends quite the way this generation does, although this might have to do with sheer numbers since they are the offspring of the Boomers.
After having reread Richard Yates’ “Revolutionary Road” during the Christmas break, I started “Twilight”. (Yes, I wanted to reread the book before seeing the movie since this book is an important one for me) That first crack of the book turned into 130 pages devoured in a matter of hours. Too soon I was finishing the book, absolutely crushed that I hadn’t thought to buy the second. That’s how I found myself at Barnes and Noble on 5th Avenue on new year’s eve, purchasing the next two in the series. And like the first time I’d inhaled the second and third books within days, lugging the large brick-sized books on a quit trip to Atlanta. That is why I have been up till 1:00 each night.
I’ve tried to analyze why I find this story of young love, even if between a vampire and a human, so engrossing. All I can say is that the writer has done a remarkable job depicting the pantheon of emotions of the crushing first love. That this young girl’s first love is with a vampire only adds a patina to an already heady tale. I will admit there were certain books in the series I liked less than the others. This last one is not my favorite, but again, I’m reading as if my life depends on it, to know how it all ends. I will be relieved when I’m finished with the series, so I can move on to my other books. But with that said, this diversion to the rainy woods of Washington have been a wonderful.
