Okay. Here's the thing. I loved it indecently. I am going to just say it. I was totally there. That is why I just finished the last book an hour ago with no clear idea that there had been time passing for the last--seven hours.
The thing is, I totally understand Bella.
I remember seventeen. That was the first time I fell in love, and I'm going to say flat out, falling in love was--okay, let me put it this way. I once explained that pregnancy, to me, was pretty much a event without context. It was kind of like waking up to a bright green sky. I spent a lot of my pregnancy ignoring it because I really couldn't slot it into anything I'd done before.
The first time I fell in love was a lot like that, with no clue what was wrong with me or why on earth I was engaging in behavior that, in retrospect, was pretty much insane. The physical attraction was--so bizarre, because I'd understood and appreciated the concept, and had the crush thing, but he was overwhelming and terrifying and I could not, could not conceptualize living without him. Again, no context.
I'd been attracted before, but never with that kind of focus, because the mind was equally attractive. He was smart. And it took over everything; every thought, every action, it was like gravity. I had to be where he was. I was shy and didn't like to talk, and yet I would follow him anywhere, any excuse, any reason. I couldn't even mock myself out of it, and people, no one mocks me better than I can do to myself. I kept a diary at the time, since I was abroad, and he's in every damn *word*.
I was seventeen, and had never dated, never been kissed, never had sex, never really thought about it as more than a vague theory of the future. The first time I met him, I felt the universe shake, shake me, and nothing about me was ever the same again. I was old enough to be aware this was a problem, but I just could not bring myself to care.
I was nineteen the second time, it was a different boy, and it's been thirteen years, and I never forget the two years after, when I wondered how it could still hurt so much. And I still look back at that and think, there's no possible way I can risk going through that again.
Or skip that part and click here.
So Bella? God. Plane to Italy? Absolutely. Turn vampire? Fuck yes. Break when they leave? I could tell stories. I won't, but they are funny. Maybe when I'm forty.
So yes, this worked for me. Bella worked for me. Edward, kinda wanted to kill, but hey, if she loves him? Go for it. Jacob? Do want to kill. Because there is pursing your interest and then there's screwing with her head and that got on my nerves. All I really wanted that last book was for him to imprint on someone else please right now before I started hoping someone would shove silver up his ass.
The author did a really--to me, anyway--fantastic job of writing a teenage girl in the throes of first love. And I am all for this. And please God, do not let her take the route of Romeo and Juliet (pet peeve) or Catherine and Heathcliffe (please god) (seriously, I am jumpy about this. Stop that shit), because you know, realistic or not (vampire, really, skip the realism), I love that first love goes soulmate.
Yes, Bella was irritating, selfish, immature, impulsive, and whiny. And I liked that about her. I'm not fond of preternaturally mature children and teenagers all that much--they are creepy. She was silly and responsible and very brave and very smart and very, very stubborn. She fell in love so hard she actually literally fell and had no idea how anything could be so huge when she had no context for it. She did things she never thought she would do and was prey to intense feelings she'd never had, and her own what-the-fuck-is-this is kind of like tying up an elephant with spaghetti. Yeah. Not helpful.
So right, I have a weakness for Romance and Soulmates and Lifebonds and Forever No Matter What and this is why. There's something amazing in it that comes out, that shows you things about yourself you never knew, and it's just that more breathtaking when the other person feels the same way.
I really have nothing to say other than glee. Theirloveissoadorable!
Okay, I see the criticism, but--okay, bear with me on this one--I never got the feeling of actively suicidal so much as depression and grief. To put it another way, you've been shooting up China White, you aren't coming back from that perky for a long time, and there's a pretty good chance, or so I've heard, you aren't going to ever stop wanting it. Jacob methodoned her, but that's really all he could do. Risk-taking to get the high back? Not a surprise. Finding someone outside herself to focus on? Yes. What irritated me about Jacob, and to a lesser extent, Charlie, is their inability to comprehend the entire grieving process. While it's fairly common to take teenage love lightly, while it's happening, and when it falls apart, it's pretty damn hideous when you're living inside it. And while I totally understood Jacob's feelings, his refusal to connect with the fact she just went through the same thing seriously got on my nerves. Rather like a teenage boy. So Jacob does not get shot. Though a good spanking might help.
Argh. Exhausted. Eclipse tomorrow when I'm less sleepy and will possibly be totally humiliated reading this entry, as I indeed sound like a teenage girl.
I love reading highs. *g* I may be a while coming down.