I admit: I am that girl. You know, the girl who read all four Twilight books and went to see the movie and (don’t laugh) thought Edward’s crooked smile was adorable. It sounds bad, but I’m here to confess my latest sin against intelligent thought. Even after I realized that the books were ridiculous and the movie was a low-budget, ridiculously cheesy farce that may have violated the Geneva Conventions by tormenting its audience with heaps of sloppy, angsty dialogue, I went back for more: I read the partial draft of “Midnight Sun.”
For those in the know (or anyone who’s remotely interested in the Twilight series), “Midnight Sun” is the first book of the quartet rewritten from Edward’s perspective. Unlike “Wicked” and other spin-off novels, “Midnight Sun” was written (or, to be more accurate, is in the process of being written), by Stephenie Meyer, the imaginative woman who penned the first four Twilight books. When someone in Meyer’s camp first leaked the draft of “Midnight Sun” she was furious over the apparent violation of her rights as an author and swore never to finish the novel. According to her website, she doesn’t want anyone to read the viral version of “Midnight Sun” but she also doesn’t want to spur readers to seek out the illegal version. As a compromise, she posted to the draft on her website but urged her fans not to read it. Luckily, I’m not a fan.
First, I need to add a little disclaimer. “Midnight Sun” only makes sense if you’ve read all of the other Twilight books. Many of the details of vampirism or the Cullen family history (for example, Jasper’s story) to which Edward alludes during his narration appear only in the last couple of books in the series. Wading through Edward’s tangled psyche is trying enough without having to figure out what you’ve missed from the other books. If you attempt “Midnight Sun” without the background provided by the rest of the “Twilight” books you might assume that you didn’t enjoy the draft because you missed some of the details when, in fact, you probably didn’t enjoy it because of the awful writing and tedious pace.
Question: Why read “Midnight Sun” at all?
Answer: You probably shouldn’t but sometimes you’re just THAT bored. Maybe you liked the books. Maybe you saw the movie. Maybe you thought the combination of the first two left something to be desired, so you kept digging.
For what it’s worth, “Midnight Sun” compares nicely with the original version of “Twilight.” In some ways, the vampire version is better, but in other ways, much worse. During pre-production for the film, Meyer and Robert Pattinson, who played Edward in the movie, worked together to develop a believable personality for the blood-sucking protagonist. The two disagreed on certain aspects because Pattison took the character to a tortured extreme. In several interviews, he said that he drew most of his inspiration for Edward from the “Midnight Sun” version. Well, that would explain why the character was such a huge creeper.
Essentially, “Midnight Sun” is not so much a different version of Twilight as it is a creepier version of Twilight (and I mean much, much creepier.) For what it’s worth, the creepiness does make the narration more interesting. My biggest gripe about Twilight was Bella’s lack of depth as a character. Her motivations seemed so ridiculous. She was just acting out a teenage daydream and projecting unrealistic fantasies on the people around her. How boring. In contrast, Edward is seriously sick in the head. Every sleazy voyeur dreams of Edward’s powers. Not only can he scale walls and silently climb into the bedrooms of unsuspecting girls and not only can he remain completely still while observing his subject for hours, he can read minds. In other words, he can spy on people through their own eyes. He experiences the fantasies of all the high school girls around him from the first person point of view. Talk about freaky—Freud would have loved to get his hands on some of that crazy.
As disturbing as that sounds, it makes for much more compelling reading than Bella’s whiny oh-my-gosh-did-he-just-look-at-me-wow internal monologue. That’s the best thing about crazy people: they are so much fun. Edward’s narration has some of the same attraction that Heath Ledger’s Joker commanded in “The Dark Knight.” You caught hints of Edward’s mental instability in the Twilight books. For example, even the oblivious Bella was a little freaked out by Edward’s penchant for watching her sleep in the original novel. In the “Midnight Sun” version, his psychological issues are a little more apparent. For example, the first time he climbs in her window he realizes he should bring oil to grease up the hinges on the window for future visits. Creep much?
Unfortunately, all good things must come to an end. Just like Meyer’s other books, the narration quickly becomes tedious and plot development slows to a crawl. No amount of crazy can make up for the fact that nothing is really happening in the story. And Edward’s crazy isn’t a dynamic, fluid, fascinating crazy like the Joker. He’s a one-trick pony. His emotional agony, which should have been a symphony of crazy with rolling highs and bitter lows from a century’s worth of experience, had just one note: angst. In the hands of a better author, “Midnight Sun” could have been very cool. Beautiful, bloodthirsty, mind-reading immortal struggles with his conscience for control of his superhuman body, agile mind, and frail emotions—what’s not to love? Unfortunately, Stephenie Meyer is not a better author and “Midnight Sun” has many of the failings of the first version.
So, if you’re like me, no review is going to deter you from satisfying your curiosity, but you’ve been warned. When you’re done reading, you’ll realize that all 264 pages of the draft could be summed up by, “Hi. My name is Edward the Vampire. I like to kill people, but let’s keep that on the down-low while I stalk this high school girl. P.S. I’m in your head.”
Tuesday, December 30, 2008
Wednesday, December 17, 2008
Slumdog Millionaire is a must see
Looking for a way relieve your boredom during winter break? Street writer Zack Newick gives his take on the Golden Globe nominated Slumdog Millionaire:
I come out of the theater feeling slightly dazed and all together happy. It’s freezing and my breath is realized as white smoke in front of my face. I’ve just seen Danny Boyle’s Slumdog Millionaire, a film that manages to make life beautiful. There, I said it. I had forgotten that the words could go together, but there is such a joy in the film, despite impossible hardship and cruelty that it is hard not to feel reassured that love always finds its way.
Danny Boyle, previously the director of Trainspotting, constructs and makes real an India that festers beneath trash and violence yet still shines gloriously through. With scenes of stray dogs and lost children wandering the bustling streets of Mumbai and images that seem to melt through the screen, so noxious are the smells and corrosive the colors, the setting seems something like a dystopian paradise. The story is a simple one: of love struck Jamal Malik, an orphan from Mumbai, and his quest to win the heart of the beautiful Latika, whom he met while at an orphan camp when he was seven. At the age of nineteen, he is a tea server at an Indian telemarketing company and an unlikely contestant on the Indian version of “Who Wants to be a Millionaire?” in the hopes that Latika will be watching, somewhere.
Jamal doesn’t really expect to get very far on the program however, but it turns out that the tragedies he has endured and the small victories he has claimed have given him every answer to the questions on this fateful day. Seeing his mother bludgeoned to death by anti-Muslim marauders, stealing shoes at the Taj Mahal and diving into human excrement for the sake of an autograph end up giving Jamal the exact knowledge he needs for one magical night on television.
The film opens however with his torture and interrogation, as the show's host doubts that an orphan up from poverty could ever win such a prize. But in this fairytale of a story , the worst of India is still gorgeous, and the best of man is accentuated. With a breathless soundtrack and stunning cinematography, Slumdog Millionaire is must-see entertainment.
Check out the trailer:
Friday, December 12, 2008
In case you were still interested in Twilight...
I can’t decide which cliché I should start off with: a sagacious, “Less is more,” or a slightly more frustrated, “Enough is enough already!” Both apply equally well to Stephanie Meyer’s Twilight Series, comprised of Twilight, New Moon, Eclipse and Breaking Dawn. Like so many other eager readers, I was sucked into the vortex of Twilight movie promotion hype, and I found myself thinking, “Hey, it could be interesting, right?”
So, over Fall Break, I found myself at my local Borders bookstore, mocha latte at my side, plumbing the murky depths of vampire romance through the befuddled eyes of Bella, the series’ masochistic little heroine with a hidden talent for mysterious accidents, in Book One of the quartet. I cannot tell a lie: I was amused. I was engaged. I was—in retrospect, I cringe to say it—invested.
Granted, I was mostly “invested” in the dramatic, exquisitely detailed bits about Bella’s vampire beau, Edward, and his gradual deification (by both the smitten Bella and the equally smitten author). The whole book seemed to revolve around Edward. It was essentially a series of snippets of Edward’s slightly deranged personality, with some fluffy filler in between which existed simply to generate greater anticipation for the parts of the book Edward was in. Even the author seemed to be waiting for her next chance to add another glimpse of Edward’s Adonis-like body, his keen intellect, his chiseled face, his superb skills on the piano, and—God have mercy on all the tweens of the world—his perfect, bronze-highlighted hair.
To be perfectly honest, that didn’t bother me in the slightest. I went into Twilight expecting an over-the-top, sickeningly cheesy romance about a crazy girl and a hot-as-hell vampire, and that is exactly what I got. I can respect that, even appreciate it. After studying organic chemistry for most of my Fall Break, I needed that kind of fun, accessible prose to keep me sane.
The problem was the second book…and then the third book…and—the horror, the horror—the fourth book. Don’t get me wrong: I am not a snotty, highfalutin, scholarly-merit-first literature Nazi. I like my beach reads as much as the next girl. I’m the first person to admit that I thoroughly enjoyed Twilight, but I think you have to respect the fact that Meyer is not a great author. In fact, she’s not even a particularly good author. She’s a teen romance author who knows how to give her readers a few cute thrills. She’s smart. She knows how to jazz up an otherwise ordinary romance with a few supernatural elements to keep things interesting.
Unfortunately, none of that can hide the fact that the series had no plot to speak of. She took a decent idea for one book, and tried to drag the poor thing out into four, five-hundred-page, back-breaking novels. Deceptively, the books were thick, but the tension was thin and uninspiring—and non-existent in the case of the fourth book. The obvious lack of plot was forgivable in the first book: I was too distracted by the swooning, lengthy descriptions of Edward and his tormented past to realize (or care, if I had realized) that nothing was actually happening in the book.
But, as you may have heard, there is virtually no Edward in the second book, New Moon, and that’s where things start to fall apart. You start to realize that, hell, this book is all about some self-indulgent, prissy, ridiculously sexually frustrated, needy teenage girl who spends half her time bemoaning her fate and the other half messing up other people’s lives. And you start to wonder why you’re wasting your time when you should be taking the 1996 practice exam for CHM 303.
Regrettably, I assumed that Meyer was working up to some big thrill, a real shocker that was going to turn the series around and make up for hundreds of pages of sloppy angst. I assumed, kept assuming, and kept waiting, right until the end of the fourth book, which ended in the most ridiculously anticlimactic battle scene I have ever had the misfortune of reading.
Since I finished the series, a few of my friends have also picked up Twilight and I have given them all the same piece of advice: Stop there! You might be curious how things pan out in the rest of the series. You might think you need to read at least the second book since there is going to be a second movie. You might want to know if Edward and Bella really do find their happy-ever-after, but, frankly, it’s just not worth it. The first book was good. It leaves you interested, excited, and engaged. It leaves you with a little itch, that hankering to know more about your new favorite coven of compassionate vampires. Don’t scratch that itch. It’s simply not worth the disappointment.
So, over Fall Break, I found myself at my local Borders bookstore, mocha latte at my side, plumbing the murky depths of vampire romance through the befuddled eyes of Bella, the series’ masochistic little heroine with a hidden talent for mysterious accidents, in Book One of the quartet. I cannot tell a lie: I was amused. I was engaged. I was—in retrospect, I cringe to say it—invested.
Granted, I was mostly “invested” in the dramatic, exquisitely detailed bits about Bella’s vampire beau, Edward, and his gradual deification (by both the smitten Bella and the equally smitten author). The whole book seemed to revolve around Edward. It was essentially a series of snippets of Edward’s slightly deranged personality, with some fluffy filler in between which existed simply to generate greater anticipation for the parts of the book Edward was in. Even the author seemed to be waiting for her next chance to add another glimpse of Edward’s Adonis-like body, his keen intellect, his chiseled face, his superb skills on the piano, and—God have mercy on all the tweens of the world—his perfect, bronze-highlighted hair.
To be perfectly honest, that didn’t bother me in the slightest. I went into Twilight expecting an over-the-top, sickeningly cheesy romance about a crazy girl and a hot-as-hell vampire, and that is exactly what I got. I can respect that, even appreciate it. After studying organic chemistry for most of my Fall Break, I needed that kind of fun, accessible prose to keep me sane.
The problem was the second book…and then the third book…and—the horror, the horror—the fourth book. Don’t get me wrong: I am not a snotty, highfalutin, scholarly-merit-first literature Nazi. I like my beach reads as much as the next girl. I’m the first person to admit that I thoroughly enjoyed Twilight, but I think you have to respect the fact that Meyer is not a great author. In fact, she’s not even a particularly good author. She’s a teen romance author who knows how to give her readers a few cute thrills. She’s smart. She knows how to jazz up an otherwise ordinary romance with a few supernatural elements to keep things interesting.
Unfortunately, none of that can hide the fact that the series had no plot to speak of. She took a decent idea for one book, and tried to drag the poor thing out into four, five-hundred-page, back-breaking novels. Deceptively, the books were thick, but the tension was thin and uninspiring—and non-existent in the case of the fourth book. The obvious lack of plot was forgivable in the first book: I was too distracted by the swooning, lengthy descriptions of Edward and his tormented past to realize (or care, if I had realized) that nothing was actually happening in the book.
But, as you may have heard, there is virtually no Edward in the second book, New Moon, and that’s where things start to fall apart. You start to realize that, hell, this book is all about some self-indulgent, prissy, ridiculously sexually frustrated, needy teenage girl who spends half her time bemoaning her fate and the other half messing up other people’s lives. And you start to wonder why you’re wasting your time when you should be taking the 1996 practice exam for CHM 303.
Regrettably, I assumed that Meyer was working up to some big thrill, a real shocker that was going to turn the series around and make up for hundreds of pages of sloppy angst. I assumed, kept assuming, and kept waiting, right until the end of the fourth book, which ended in the most ridiculously anticlimactic battle scene I have ever had the misfortune of reading.
Since I finished the series, a few of my friends have also picked up Twilight and I have given them all the same piece of advice: Stop there! You might be curious how things pan out in the rest of the series. You might think you need to read at least the second book since there is going to be a second movie. You might want to know if Edward and Bella really do find their happy-ever-after, but, frankly, it’s just not worth it. The first book was good. It leaves you interested, excited, and engaged. It leaves you with a little itch, that hankering to know more about your new favorite coven of compassionate vampires. Don’t scratch that itch. It’s simply not worth the disappointment.
Saturday, December 6, 2008
Just Friends?
Disclaimer: This post is more or less directed towards the ladies.
Sometimes it seems like all of our interactions with the opposite sex are governed by one age old question: is there such a thing as a purely platonic relationship?
The responses are mixed. Those of us who say yes are shocked when our “just friends” make a move on us. Those of us who say no are disappointed when our prospective life partners find significant others of their own.
So what gives? Is there not a simple answer?
Of course not.
Granted, we all can agree that platonic relationships have to exist. How else can you explain your male neighbors and classmates? The simple platonic relationships are those that aren’t too close. Past a certain point of familiarity, the boundaries become less defined.
Here’s when it becomes difficult. Is your guy just super-duper nice or does he want to be more than just friends?
Sometimes we over-analyze. We think the pats on the back, the invitation to “do something,” and the nice gifts on our birthdays are signs of something more. And maybe they are. Usually, guys tend to lavish attention in similar manners as girls. Girls love to focus on and flirt with their crushes and guys like to do the same. But if the answer was just that simple, then there wouldn’t be hordes of girls confused about the state of their relationships.
It really depends on the guy. As much as we’d like to think that guys are all just simple-minded creatures who all think in the same, uncomplicated manner, that’s simply not true. Guys, as hard as it is to admit, are each unique in their own ways.
Some guys just seem to pay equal attention to all girls they meet. They are gregarious. They flirt shamelessly with everything female that moves and everyone loves or claims to love them.
Look around you. Is everyone flirting with this guy? Do you have something special that sets you apart from the crowd? Do you guys have inside jokes? Cute nicknames? Secret handshakes, maybe? Are you going to be cool with it if you guys become a couple and he continues his behavior?
If not, grab another pole, it’s time to head back out to sea. This time, try to pull out one who is legitimately interested.
Sometimes, though, you might pull out one who is legitimately interested, only to find that he is absolutely cryptic about his intentions. He is attentive and sweet, but never takes the initiative in advancing the relationship.
If this sounds like your guy, drop a slight hint. Not so much that you scare him away. But realize that the guy might just be a bit dense. He might have no idea of your feelings unless you show them. He might also be too worried about rejection to dive in head first and admit he likes you. Sometimes, you need to prod him along just a bit.
This is not to say that you should take the initiative and start the relationship. NEVER be the one to start the relationship. That would be the easy way out, and the route will usually take you off a cliff.
As sexist as this may sound, guys and girls respond differently to taking risks. There’s scientific evidence that guys are more ready to take risks, due to innate differences in the male and female brains. Since starting a relationship is a huge risk (it’s like diving off a cliff, not knowing where or on what you’ll land), if the man who can more easily take risks doesn’t want to take the chance, then don’t even try to get him.
And then there are those other guys you might pick up who have no problems taking that giant leap. Even if you don’t want him to. These guys seem desperate. They call all the time, want to hang out all the time, and never seem to take a hint. You avoid them at all cost for weeks on end, and they still manage to find you and pretend nothing is wrong. Sound familiar?
If you’ve got a guy you can’t shake, drop hints you only want to be friends. But chances are you’ve already tried this and he just can’t wrap his mind around the fact you don’t think of him in that way. So introduce him to someone else who might be perfect for him. Or you can simply dodge him for the rest of your life.
The best solution is to find a boyfriend of your own.
But if that was so easy, why are you reading this?
Sometimes it seems like all of our interactions with the opposite sex are governed by one age old question: is there such a thing as a purely platonic relationship?
The responses are mixed. Those of us who say yes are shocked when our “just friends” make a move on us. Those of us who say no are disappointed when our prospective life partners find significant others of their own.
So what gives? Is there not a simple answer?
Of course not.
Granted, we all can agree that platonic relationships have to exist. How else can you explain your male neighbors and classmates? The simple platonic relationships are those that aren’t too close. Past a certain point of familiarity, the boundaries become less defined.
Here’s when it becomes difficult. Is your guy just super-duper nice or does he want to be more than just friends?
Sometimes we over-analyze. We think the pats on the back, the invitation to “do something,” and the nice gifts on our birthdays are signs of something more. And maybe they are. Usually, guys tend to lavish attention in similar manners as girls. Girls love to focus on and flirt with their crushes and guys like to do the same. But if the answer was just that simple, then there wouldn’t be hordes of girls confused about the state of their relationships.
It really depends on the guy. As much as we’d like to think that guys are all just simple-minded creatures who all think in the same, uncomplicated manner, that’s simply not true. Guys, as hard as it is to admit, are each unique in their own ways.
Some guys just seem to pay equal attention to all girls they meet. They are gregarious. They flirt shamelessly with everything female that moves and everyone loves or claims to love them.
Look around you. Is everyone flirting with this guy? Do you have something special that sets you apart from the crowd? Do you guys have inside jokes? Cute nicknames? Secret handshakes, maybe? Are you going to be cool with it if you guys become a couple and he continues his behavior?
If not, grab another pole, it’s time to head back out to sea. This time, try to pull out one who is legitimately interested.
Sometimes, though, you might pull out one who is legitimately interested, only to find that he is absolutely cryptic about his intentions. He is attentive and sweet, but never takes the initiative in advancing the relationship.
If this sounds like your guy, drop a slight hint. Not so much that you scare him away. But realize that the guy might just be a bit dense. He might have no idea of your feelings unless you show them. He might also be too worried about rejection to dive in head first and admit he likes you. Sometimes, you need to prod him along just a bit.
This is not to say that you should take the initiative and start the relationship. NEVER be the one to start the relationship. That would be the easy way out, and the route will usually take you off a cliff.
As sexist as this may sound, guys and girls respond differently to taking risks. There’s scientific evidence that guys are more ready to take risks, due to innate differences in the male and female brains. Since starting a relationship is a huge risk (it’s like diving off a cliff, not knowing where or on what you’ll land), if the man who can more easily take risks doesn’t want to take the chance, then don’t even try to get him.
And then there are those other guys you might pick up who have no problems taking that giant leap. Even if you don’t want him to. These guys seem desperate. They call all the time, want to hang out all the time, and never seem to take a hint. You avoid them at all cost for weeks on end, and they still manage to find you and pretend nothing is wrong. Sound familiar?
If you’ve got a guy you can’t shake, drop hints you only want to be friends. But chances are you’ve already tried this and he just can’t wrap his mind around the fact you don’t think of him in that way. So introduce him to someone else who might be perfect for him. Or you can simply dodge him for the rest of your life.
The best solution is to find a boyfriend of your own.
But if that was so easy, why are you reading this?
Wednesday, December 3, 2008
Computers in Class
Today I'm trying an experiment. I've noticed that in my large lecture classes, the number of laptops present has been rising as the term goes on. I've never brought a computer to class before, so here's a play-by-play of my first class digitally "taking notes." This is for all the students out there who are considering hauling a computer around but never have. So pay attention.
9:52- I show up early. I already feel more productive.
10:03- The professor's not here yet. Maybe this computer thing really is worth looking into.
10:04- I'm becoming paranoid that people sitting behind me (yeah, you, girl in the black jacket) and in the balcony are staring at my computer screen and my awesome OIT-supplied background picture of Nassau Hall. Maybe I shouldn't have sat in the front and center of the (enormous) classroom. I dim the computer screen to deter prying eyes.
10:05- The professor's here, looking and sounding slightly flustered. Maybe it's the vast multitude of computers staring back at the stage, and the corresponding eyes glued to the screens. "Printer trouble" sounds like an excuse, anyway.
10:12- I've determined that taking notes is more fun this way. But, contrary to what I expected, I feel even more compelled to pay attention, perhaps guilty for having my computer with me in the first place.
10:19- I notice that in the first three rows of the classroom, there are 11 students, and six laptops (my own included). Do 54.5% of students use a computer in class? (Really, this is a commentary on how cool it is that I can pull up the calculator application with such convenience, even in a very-non-QR class. How cool? Completely cool.)
10:26- I send an email. But I totally had to.
10:41- I'm still surprised. I haven't had the urge to go to CNN.com, NYT.com or even Facebook. More than I can say for the girl in front of me.
10:43- Class isn't over yet, but the verdict is in. Laptops in class are great. One can focus on their notes (typing makes the notes look more official, I decided), but also check email or other (purely academic, of course) sources during class when necessary. What a discovery.
9:52- I show up early. I already feel more productive.
10:03- The professor's not here yet. Maybe this computer thing really is worth looking into.
10:04- I'm becoming paranoid that people sitting behind me (yeah, you, girl in the black jacket) and in the balcony are staring at my computer screen and my awesome OIT-supplied background picture of Nassau Hall. Maybe I shouldn't have sat in the front and center of the (enormous) classroom. I dim the computer screen to deter prying eyes.
10:05- The professor's here, looking and sounding slightly flustered. Maybe it's the vast multitude of computers staring back at the stage, and the corresponding eyes glued to the screens. "Printer trouble" sounds like an excuse, anyway.
10:12- I've determined that taking notes is more fun this way. But, contrary to what I expected, I feel even more compelled to pay attention, perhaps guilty for having my computer with me in the first place.
10:19- I notice that in the first three rows of the classroom, there are 11 students, and six laptops (my own included). Do 54.5% of students use a computer in class? (Really, this is a commentary on how cool it is that I can pull up the calculator application with such convenience, even in a very-non-QR class. How cool? Completely cool.)
10:26- I send an email. But I totally had to.
10:41- I'm still surprised. I haven't had the urge to go to CNN.com, NYT.com or even Facebook. More than I can say for the girl in front of me.
10:43- Class isn't over yet, but the verdict is in. Laptops in class are great. One can focus on their notes (typing makes the notes look more official, I decided), but also check email or other (purely academic, of course) sources during class when necessary. What a discovery.
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