Because I loved being a teenage girl so much, I have already finished book 3 of the Twilight series and am currently cruising through the final book: Breaking Dawn. What has made me such a glutton for punishment? I dislike a vast number of the main characters and find them so stupid that I've almost punched the book in the face in the hopes that Jacob would feel it. However, I have been told by a reliable source that I will actually like Bella by the end of the series.
I don't know why I believe this, but hope is strong in these dark times... it's even how our new president-elect won.
Without rehashing too much of last week, I will admit that when the books start to get into the history of vampires and werewolves I really like it, but when I get sucked back to Bella in the present after these stories, my eyes roll back into my head and I struggle not to pass out from the raw teenage emotion that exudes from the page. Add this to the fact that I have now read the phrase "hard as granite" or "marble body" (and yes you can say "that's what she said") so many freaking times, that I need to buy Stephenie Meyer a damn thesaurus.
So, after I finish this final book, I've already planned Vonnegut's Cat's Cradle as my follow-up, in hopes of stimulating my remaining brain cells into a working machine to keep me alive for another 60 years or so.
I don't know why I believe this, but hope is strong in these dark times... it's even how our new president-elect won.
Without rehashing too much of last week, I will admit that when the books start to get into the history of vampires and werewolves I really like it, but when I get sucked back to Bella in the present after these stories, my eyes roll back into my head and I struggle not to pass out from the raw teenage emotion that exudes from the page. Add this to the fact that I have now read the phrase "hard as granite" or "marble body" (and yes you can say "that's what she said") so many freaking times, that I need to buy Stephenie Meyer a damn thesaurus.
So, after I finish this final book, I've already planned Vonnegut's Cat's Cradle as my follow-up, in hopes of stimulating my remaining brain cells into a working machine to keep me alive for another 60 years or so.
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