nevermore

I bonded with a girl at work over the Twilight books. Yes, I read them, and though I think they were poorly written, I had enough material to converse pleasantly about them. Then this co-worker asked me to read Evermore. She had just finished and hated it. With a recommendation like that...

Evermore wants to be Twilight. It really, really, falls short. I know: that's saying something.

Two-second plot recaps: Twilight is about a girl Bella falling in love with vampire Edward, who can’t at first decide what he wants more, her heart or her blood; Evermore is about a girl Ever who since the death of her family has psychic gifts and falls in love with the hot immortal who has been in love with her every incarnation for 600 years.

The heroes: First, there is Edward, a one-hundred-year-old vampire who has dedicated his existence to rising above his, shall we say, “natural vampire.” He is perfectly beautiful, a side-effect of his transformation, the better to lure you with, my dear. His black eyes and unsociable disposition give him a mysterious air, a rather brooding melancholy reminiscent of Byronic heroes. Given the contemporary setting, his passion is a little too Rochester for my taste. I wonder if his name is a throwback to that very character.

Edward can read minds. He is also a little creepy with his attentions. Overprotective, might be the right word. Possessive and obsessive might be others. All the same, he seems to genuinely love our heroine Bella for virtues we’ll later address, and takes care to preserve and extol said virtues. And he drives very fast, which is not as daredevil as it sounds, given his ridiculously fast reflexes.

Then there is Damen, a six-hundred-year-old immortal, who is also perfectly beautiful with dark hair and black eyes, though this is just crazy random happenstance that someone gorgeous gets to live forever, while the plain boys die off. He, too, can read minds. Unlike Edward, Damen can read the mind of the girl he loves, and he uses it against her. Quite often, attacking the vulnerabilities she cannot hide from him. He toys with her constantly, flirting with other girls, just to read her reactions and see if she has feelings for him. Can I just say, Edward would never do that.

If Edward is Rochester, then Damen is Heathcliff, far more violent and hedonistic than Edward, despite the latter’s blood-drinking. Damen has spent his life in immediate gratification, sexing up over the centuries. Like Edward, Damen visits his girl’s room at night to watch her sleep. He also never tells her where he lives or lets her have his phone number. His mystery is much more mind-your-own-damn-business while Edward is just trying to keep stakes from his family’s respective hearts (not that that or sun will kill them.) And Damen also drives fast, way too fast given that he does not have supernatural reactions. (Driving fast is not always attractive: some of us prefer men who use cruise control to stay at the speed limit. )

Is it obvious yet that I thought Damen to be the least deserving of perhaps any love-story hero? While I want to show that he has many traits in common with Edward, such as the eternal life thing, I must underline that he is manipulative and dangerous, which is not romantic. The number of times he makes out with Ever and then splits, or tries to get her into bed before she protests too strongly, is enough for me to want to punch him in the face. Edward might be a monster, but at least he doesn’t act like one.

The heroines: Both books are told as first-person accounts from the heroine’s perspective. Thus, a lot of what I think about the characters comes from their narrative skills, not just their self-portrayals.

Bella. I like Bella. She is beautiful and funny and smart and selfless, and she never once had to say so. She, in fact, views herself as being rather ordinary. However, the number of guys who crush on her speaks something to her appeal. I found myself laughing aloud at her sarcastic comments in the narration and to Edward. And, as for smart, she figured out Edward’s secret without psychic powers.

Bella is clumsy, which irks me. Clumsiness is the new fainting, when it comes to femininity in stories. It keeps the women physically inferior and helpless, while conceding to emotional strength. Not that Bella doesn’t faint whenever Edward kisses her.

Yes, her love for Edward is silly and oh-so-very seventeen, and very much based on the fact that she wants his venom-sculpted body. While I infinitely prefer Edward to Damen, I cannot understand why Bella fell in love with Edward; there was simply no basis provided to explain it. And she does get a little needy and redundantly emo about it.

Ever. To start, what a stupid name. Ever is beautiful. She says so. Often. And did I call Bella emo? Did I dare think Bella needy? Compared to Ever, Bella is refreshingly grounded and rational. Oh. My. Gosh. The whininess and clinginess of Ever. The Queen of indecisiveness and self-pity. She doesn’t pay attention to anyone’s needs but her own, dismissing fatal threats to her friend in order to alleviate a headache, and even then, she’d rather wallow than help herself. Funny? No. Smart? Umm, she’s psychic, has a dead little sister who can spy for her and still doesn’t figure out Damen’s secret. That’s with his wife of 600 years hanging around giving hints. How thick can you be? While I can’t see why Bella fell for Edward at first, I can’t see at all why Damen keeps hunting down Ever’s incarnations. Though he did say she’s always beautiful. She said so.

I know, I know, this is getting very long-winded. And I haven’t addressed the events of the books. I’ll try to be brief.

I have said that Twilight had no plot, that it was all exposition until the last few pages, when suddenly an unforeseen threat emerges, makes a ruckus and is quickly vanquished. I have to hand it to Evermore, it certainly had more rising action (and I do not just mean Damen). The threat in this case, immortal Drina (compared to Twilight’s vampire James), is in the book the entire time, seen as a competitive threat, stealing the affections of both Damen and Haven (Ever’s bff). But at the end, when she suddenly tries to kill Ever, again, having done away with every previous incarnation, I again have to ask myself, why the exposition? Why did she try so hard to brainwash Haven when she could have walked up to Ever at any time and shanked her?

And then! did I call Twilight’s climax lame? Ever leaves the face-off with Drina midway through to have another exposition chapter in which Damen describes the rules of immortality to her. It’s very much like the chapter in Twilight in which the two ensconce themselves in an out-of-the-way field to discuss the repercussions of their romance. Only, in Evermore, the field is in a different dimension. Seriously.

The second fight with Drina is just as random. Not only does Drina wait a few months before trying again, courteously giving Ever time to sort out her feelings about being immortal, but she is then killed by Ever touching her chest, because (get this) there was no love in her heart. What the hell? Even if Twilight’s conflict came out of nowhere, at least the fight was interesting and the villain died the good ol' fashioned way--being ripped to pieces and tossed onto a bonfire.

And don’t get me started on Evermore’s Disneyland scene. Yes, in real life, Disneyland is a point unto itself, but in a novel it needs to have reason for being. It was so…so…. when Avril bakes the cake.

The best parts of both books are the supporting characters. I would read Twilight again just for Alice, let alone Carlisle, Emmett and Charlie. And while no coercion on earth could make me read Evermore for one more second, I did enjoy her dead little sister, who liked to spy on celebrities and materialize in Halloween costumes.

In the end, the best thing about Evermore was that it gave me greater appreciation for Twilight.

clue

Maybe it's backward thinking to use a dinner party for revenge, if revenge is the right word. Perhaps "passive-aggressive resistance through an active display of indifferent submissiveness." Yes, that's more accurate. It's like when roommates get fed up with your dirty dishes and clean the kitchen out of spite. They might bang the pots around in the sink, but the chore gets done. That's how I'm feeling, like I can't stand the (figurative) sight of dirty dishes one more second. So I'm throwing a dinner party. It reminds me of Clue, though less macabre. But with plenty of red herrings.

wicked

Too many people have too few perfect nights. Last Wednesday was one for me. The whole night was enchanted. Kevin took me to see Wicked. I have wanted to see that musical for four years now, ever since Tarythe introduced me to the soundtrack.

For starters, there was the boy. If I could have picked anyone in the world to take me out, I would have chosen him. I couldn't design a better match for me if I tried. I might have accidentally left out the part where he would carry an umbrella over my head while we walked past a fountain. And then put him in a suit with a blue dress shirt! I could hardly stop myself from swooning.

Secondly, I wore the dress of all dresses. I did design a perfect dress, exchanging emails with Mom in the hopes of constructing it. Then we found it at Nordstroms in all its Audrey-fitting glory. I felt radiant, like an internal spotlight were shining from me and on me. I brimmed with good will and innocuous vanity.

And then there was the play itself, everything I had hoped for and more. The music was richer, the dialogue funnier and the pathos fuller than I dreamed it would be. I intermittently clapped and laughed, leaned forward eagerly in my seat, leaped from it during applause, wept during For Good and squeezed Kevin's arm in delight. The best part was, not just the play, but seeing it after desiring to for so long. It was a dream come true. And happy is what happens when all your dreams come true.

When Kevin and I meandered back to his car along a dark and deserted path, past several ancient and twisted trees, I felt utterly and perfectly happy.

sleeping on the couch

Ted and I were having a perfectly lovely conversation, when he inserted his usual: "So, are you flying out here this weekend?" Never mind that the last time I flew out there for a weekend he stood me up. I told him he would have to wait two months. My plans are to fly to Utah at the end of October. "Still?" he asked. "Because if I have to wait for Kevin to propose before you fly out here, I may never see you." He wasn't just being his usual jocular jackass self. He had an I'm-saying-this-because-I-love-you undertone. And that really annoyed me. More than annoyed, actually, it hurt me.

Over Thanksgiving weekend 2007, Kevin told me that he wants to marry me. And I have been acting since that time on the assumption that he means it. I dropped a minor to graduate earlier and then moved a third of the way across the country, again, to be near him. And I have not cut and run despite the rejection I feel every time he says "I don't know" when I broach the subject of marriage. I have put up with thoughtless comments from nosey people about our relationship, which is none of their business, and I confidently picked out a ring and (less confidently) emailed the picture to Kevin. I have asked my family about their vacation plans and work schedules. I have met with the VP at work to arrange to take time off this fall. And even though Kevin said in June that I might need to sign a new lease, as getting married by August wasn't feasible, I managed to stall. I have put my stuff in storage, moved my books to Kevin's apartment with my TV, and taken up residence on Audrei's couch.

In every way that I can possibly conceive, I have acted on the assumption that Kevin will propose.

And Ted is not the only one who does not believe that he will.

I got it from Mom that same night, a mere half hour after Ted's phone call. Where I had been silently wounded with Ted, I grew vocal and angry with my mom. "I know it frustrates you not to know my plans. But I do not have an answer for you. I. Don't. Know. I didn't tell you to reserve a date, so just make your vacation plans! Why ask me?" That was not enough for her. She wanted to know how long she had to make a wedding dress. A wedding dress that I have told her I will not be wearing, as Kevin and I aren't interested in having a reception. I'd look silly hanging out at family dinner in a wedding dress. "Are you sure that's what you want?"

Am I sure that's what I want? How to answer that?

I hate wedding receptions. They're wasteful, of both time and money. The expectations of wedding receptions would put me in the poor house, if I could escape the loony bin after my brain rotted out from planning color schemes and finger foods. Receptions are flagrant displays of materialism. Not to mention boring. Merciful heavens, are they boring! I picture, instead, a family party with lots of simple food and lots of talking. I want to hang out with my friends and see if Ted or April will bust out a guitar. I want to play Carcassonne and carry my nephew around. A wedding dress doesn't fit in that scenario. I'm the girl who wants to go hiking for her honeymoon. I like things down to earth.

But sometimes...when I begin to feel like I'm on the clearance rack and my price tag has been slashed through with a red pen again and still no one is buying, then I get angry. When I talk about eloping even though I have no ring, I begin to see the merit in a real wedding reception. Those are the time when I crave a wedding gown and a diamond engagement ring, when my own tastes become secondary to the price I hope to exact on my behalf. I want my pound of flesh, my eight cows, my seven years' labor.

But, no, I don't really want a wedding dress.

I just want Kevin to propose, to act, like I have done, on the assumption that he wants to marry me.

Because sometimes, every so often, I think as Ted does, and I wonder what I'm doing on this couch, why I have no books, no home, no plans. My living situation has become a very visible and apt metaphor for my internal limbo, and I know that I can't stay on the couch forever.