What Not to Read

In the last week or so, I’ve read two horrendously stupid books. Why I did this to myself, why I didn’t just put them down after the first idiotic chapter, I have no idea. Maybe because I bought them before I knew how bad they were, and therefore felt obligated to read them cover to cover.

I really hate to bash on the author of these books, because I completely understand the sweat and tears that go into writing. It’s just that…well, if you’re going to put forth the effort to write an entire book- not just one book, but TWO- wouldn’t it make sense to make sure it’s worth reading before you go and get it published?

Probably I should have realized, after hating the first book by this author, that I was likely to hate the second book by the same author. That would have been sensible.

I’ve never claimed to be sensible. Or I have, and nobody took me seriously (fair enough, judging by my recent insensibility).

Anyway, Kristin Harmel wrote How to Sleep With a Movie Star and The Blonde Theory. The titles alone should have sent up red flags all over the place, but I think that at the time I purchased the books, I was more attracted to the covers and finding an author with a similar name to my own.

That’s what I get for judging a book by its cover.

So, I cracked open the first book, and as I said, the first chapter was painfully dumb. I kept reading. The following chapters were worse. The entire story is based on the idea of “what if…a reporter got mixed up in an unprofessional relationship with a celebrity” and “what happens when a co-worker is jealous”. Oh, and “what if someone actually were to publish this crap, wouldn’t that be a hoot”.

The second book is based off the assumption that a successful lawyer who is a woman can’t find a man who wants to be with her, because all men everywhere are intimidated by women who have a brain inside their head, which causes the main character (a smart blonde lawyer, of course) to try out “the blonde theory”, which is little more than a major insult to blondes everywhere. The idea is that if the character behaves like an absolute moron and dresses like a hooker, men will like her better.

Those might even have been somewhat decent story ideas, had the author not turned them into cheesy, laughable (but not funny) rags.

It saddens me that I paid a total of $30 for such nonsense. I’ll have to re-read Pride and Prejudice, Gone With the Wind, and probably Lord of the Rings before I feel I’ve made up for my mistake.

Don’t Judge Me

Hi, my name is Cristen, and I’m a Twilight fan.

Don’t worry, I’m not one of those “Team Jacob” or “Team Edward” giggly girls, and I haven’t got Twilight paraphernalia littering my house (except for the books and the first three movies). I don’t wear creepy T-shirts with blown-up pictures of ‘vampires’ or ‘werewolves’ on them, and I don’t go in for any other vampire books, shows, or movies.

But- and you can roll your eyes if you must and I don’t blame you if you do- I love Twilight.

The way I see it is, Stephenie Meyer has written a fascinating story that pulls me right into the pages of the books and for a little while, when I’m reading those pages, I feel like I’m in the story, too. Any author who is able to do this has my respect, even if the story turns out to be disappointing at the end…and, I have to admit, the Twilight Saga does actually have a sort of disappointing ending (I’ll probably have to go into hiding now, to avoid being persecuted by fanatics).

That’s alright, though- I rarely ever read books just because the ending is good. I like the process of getting to the ending better than the ending itself.

I know there are plenty of people out there who absolutely loathe all things Twilight, for a variety of reasons. The ones I’ve heard are:

“Vampires that sparkle? Give me a break.”- Valid point, really. In the movie it honestly does look pretty ridiculous. At least the book explains it. And actually, I kind of like that the Twilight vampires glitter in the sun. It’s different. Considering that vampires are mythological anyway, I don’t really get why some people are so bothered that Stephenie Meyer wrote them to be even more fantastical than the “average” vampire.

“Bella and Edward’s relationship is controlling and unhealthy and creepy.”- Yeah, that would be a valid point, if it were a true story. So freakin’ what if it’s a super strange romance? Scarlet O’Hara and Rhett Butler had a controlling, unhealthy, abusive relationship and I’ve never heard anyone piss and moan about that. It’s fiction, people. Honestly.

“Twilight teaches young girls that it’s ok to be controlled and stalked, and it leads them to expect unrealistic things from their own relationships.”- I’d just like to point out that anyone who is using fantasy/fiction novels as a guide for their real lives has got far more serious problems going on than just wishing that their boyfriend was more like Edward Cullen. If people can’t separate reality from a story, they should probably put the book down and check themselves into a nut house.

“It’s written by a Mormon.”- And? Other literature, stuff that is considered ‘classic’, is written by pedophiles, alcoholics, and drug addicts, Catholics, Christians, and atheists…does that mean that, simply by reading their work, you’re going to become what they are? Is it contageous, or what?

I don’t mind that people don’t like Twilight, but I find a lot of their reasoning pretty silly. The same goes with any other book or movie. If you’re going to object to something, I think you should at least have a logical reason for it- i.e, you just plain don’t like it is pretty acceptable, I think. But I see no reason to base objections on a bunch of popular psycho-babble BS.

I love the books, and I like the movies- although I think that the story itself loses half its charm from book to big screen, since the story is told from Bella’s perspective for the most part, and the movies don’t really portray that very well. Nor do the movies do a very good job of explaining things (remember the sparkly vampires?), and so a lot is lost there, too. And, just to be really critical, I think they made most of the characters out to be pretty ridiculous in the movies, too. For instance, Jasper walks around looking like he’s just been clubbed over the head most of the time, thought I’m sure that the actor playing him TRIED to get it right. And in the first movie, does Kristen Stewart have to blink so often? For that matter, was there no better actress available to play Bella, or what?

And my Number One issue with the Twilight movies: When I read the books, I pictured Edward much the way he was described- glorious. There is absolutely nothing about Robert Pattinson that even comes close to ‘glorious’. I know, I know, yet another opinion that will force me to hide from the Twilight fanatics.

Hi, my name is Cristen, and I feel like a total dweeb because I’m twenty-six and like stories about sparkly vampires.

I’m a Natural Disaster

In which case, you should all probably make sure you’ve got a firm grip on your towels.

Or your dinosaurs.

Or whatever little shred of comfort you can find, be it a blankie, a rubber ducky, or a dirty magazine (just don’t let your mother see that).

Because I’ve reached the muddled conclusion that I am merely a natural disaster, barely contained in human form, and could be released on the world at large at any moment…!

Isn’t that frightening?

Like, about as scary as a fluffy kitten who’s been dunked in water?

See! Disastrous!

Anyway, I came to this conclusion a few minutes ago, whilst partially immersed in one of those literary abominations called ‘romance’. Yep. I acquired this book a couple of years ago, during the days when all I had to do was drive my husband to work and then wait for him to need a ride home. When that’s what you’ve got to do with your time, you can go through a lot of books…and at some point, GOOD books become hard to come by, and soon after, DECENT books are scarce, and pretty soon you find yourself in the tiny book aisle at Walmart trying to decide between a book titled The Governess Wears Scarlet, or taking your own life…and well, I chose life, and therefore also chose The Governess wearing scarlet.

I paid a full six dollars for this, mind you. It pained me.

Once out of the store with it, I promptly refused to read it. And so, imagine my surprise nearly two years later, when I came across this book sitting inside a box of computery things, and felt compelled to open it.

As you could probably guess, it’s full of men with ‘strapping thighs’, ‘broad shoulders’, ‘chiseled jaws’. And women with ‘swelling bosoms’, ‘pert bottoms’, and who ‘smell like desire’.

Oh, the shame of owning this garbage!

However, now I’ve opened it, I feel obligated to read to the very end, you know, just to find out if Lord Steele and Miss West ever stop lusting after each other and get married or anything sensible.

Anyway….that actually has little to do with my epiphany, except that it’s what I was holding when I came to my drastic realization.

What IS relevant is my absolutely impeccable sense of timing. I have the ability to move, speak, or appear at precisely the worst moment imaginable. For instance, I arrived home from work one day just as my husband was staining the porch, right in front of the door. Had I gotten there a little earlier or a little later, I would not have had to walk on his work. Or, if somebody is playing a video game in my vicinity, I will remain silent right up to and very long after any intense moment where the player could be killed…but, it is THAT moment which I happen to have something to say, and the player dies. I don’t intentionally do these things; it’s that natural disaster welling up and trying to break free and wreak havoc and destruction on the planet.

Why else would I be such a clutz, constantly causing minor damage to myself and objects near by?
Why else would I occasionally have an uncontrollable urge to chuck my shoe across the room?
Why else would I think it’s a good idea to use the spoon resting in my cereal bowl (beneath the cereal and milk) as a catapult…(Mom, did you happen to come across some Rice Chex stuck on your kitchen ceiling before you started remodeling?)…

As you can see, I’m volatile.

A force to be reckoned with.

And, now understanding why I’m such a danger (the barely-contained natural disaster waiting to burst forth, remember), I can rest easy.

…

Or maybe I should just accept that I’m merely human, accident prone, and a little bit strange.

Except, where is the fun in that?