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peachachu 's review for:
Midnight Sun
by Stephenie Meyer
This book was, how you say, extremely bad. Tedious, brooding, and pretentious, this book is basically a 700 page slog through Edward's extremely creepy inner-monologue. Though Bella seems to have literally no sense of self-preservation, even she would have gotten into her shitty truck and gunned it the hell out of Forks if she could have read what I just read.
Most of the story is just Edward being sad and emotionally constipated because "uwu, Bella's not like other girls. She smells good and doesn't wear makeup." Literally, there's a line where he remarks how American women shell out thousands of dollars every year just to have skin like Bella's, which he continually describes as "almost translucent" when it's not "flushed with blood." Like okay, freak. At one point he's contemplating (in a brooding, Byronic way) how Bella is like Persephone, "pomegranate in hand. Dooming herself to the Underworld." Like BOI! She is literally just sitting there eating mushroom ravioli. Let her be. This book could have been fun if it didn't take itself so seriously. At least in the first Twilight you could pretend Edward was somewhat charming and not a total creep, but in this retelling, the illusion is completely lost. Instead, Edward basically outs himself as a total sociopath. Anytime Bella so much as SPEAKS to another boy, Edward has vivid fantasies about ripping his body to shreds and scattering it across the country. This is coming from the guy who watches her sleep at night and continually surveils her interactions with other people via his mind reading. And then, he has the audacity to complain about how THESE boys are too possessive over Bella. The hypocrisy just WHOOSHES right over his head. It's a little bit funny, but also quite disturbing when you think about how this is being portrayed as the "ideal" romance.
I was honestly obsessed with these books when I was like, 9, but I'm really glad I was able to outgrow them and learn what an actually healthy relationship looks like, instead of this gross and often abusive catastrophe they call a "star-crossed lovers romance." As a "wizened" 22-year-old, I can read this now with the understanding it is pure drivel. Basically, I'm glad the Twilight phenomenon is mostly dead, because these books are good for pretty much nothing except a laugh, some nostalgia, and then after that, firewood.
Most of the story is just Edward being sad and emotionally constipated because "uwu, Bella's not like other girls. She smells good and doesn't wear makeup." Literally, there's a line where he remarks how American women shell out thousands of dollars every year just to have skin like Bella's, which he continually describes as "almost translucent" when it's not "flushed with blood." Like okay, freak. At one point he's contemplating (in a brooding, Byronic way) how Bella is like Persephone, "pomegranate in hand. Dooming herself to the Underworld." Like BOI! She is literally just sitting there eating mushroom ravioli. Let her be. This book could have been fun if it didn't take itself so seriously. At least in the first Twilight you could pretend Edward was somewhat charming and not a total creep, but in this retelling, the illusion is completely lost. Instead, Edward basically outs himself as a total sociopath. Anytime Bella so much as SPEAKS to another boy, Edward has vivid fantasies about ripping his body to shreds and scattering it across the country. This is coming from the guy who watches her sleep at night and continually surveils her interactions with other people via his mind reading. And then, he has the audacity to complain about how THESE boys are too possessive over Bella. The hypocrisy just WHOOSHES right over his head. It's a little bit funny, but also quite disturbing when you think about how this is being portrayed as the "ideal" romance.
I was honestly obsessed with these books when I was like, 9, but I'm really glad I was able to outgrow them and learn what an actually healthy relationship looks like, instead of this gross and often abusive catastrophe they call a "star-crossed lovers romance." As a "wizened" 22-year-old, I can read this now with the understanding it is pure drivel. Basically, I'm glad the Twilight phenomenon is mostly dead, because these books are good for pretty much nothing except a laugh, some nostalgia, and then after that, firewood.