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Avril Brown Presents:

It’s time to talk ‘Twilight.’

This really should come as no surprise to anyone who knows me. I’m a hopeless romantic and I have a vampire addiction. Of course I’m a ‘Twilight’ fan, and I feel it is my sacred duty to explain to the confused masses why certain people are drawn so intensely to the books, and why there haven’t been these many hysteric teenage girls since the Beatles went on tour.

I was first made aware of ‘Twilight’ many moons ago when I saw a teaser trailer in the theaters, but I didn’t pick up the books until recently. Reading paperback books on planes is kind of a thing for me, and I was without a fresh paperback when I was heading to New York for Halloween. I like to shop at the duty free shop, and at an O’Hare International Airport shop I found ‘Twilight,’ the first book in the four part saga. And then I dropped off the face of the Earth.

When I discover and become invested in an already completed series, be they books, television shows, etc., my life is pretty much over until I’ve read/watched it in its entirety. Stupid real life got in the way a bit (occasionally I won’t let it; I took a vacation day from work when the last Harry Potter book arrived so I could read all day), but I eventually got my hands on the last three books and finished them in a few days.

So what is the obsessive appeal?

For the starry-eyed people who fervently believe in true, meant-to-be love, the idea of keeping that love forever, of staying young, beautiful, and blissfully in love forever, is incredibly intoxicating. That, concisely, is ‘Twilight’ is all about.

Stephanie Meyer’s easy-read type of writing style is appealing and addicting to a wide age range. The core of the story is a sickeningly sweet and angst-y romantic relationship, and when coupled with a slightly different take on the classic monster myths of vampires and werewolves, the resulting product is bound to produce a diverse and intense group of followers. Plus, Meyer’s vampires are totally loaded, and who doesn’t wish they had an Aston Martin Vanquish parked in their eight-car garage?

‘The vampire thing,’ as my father put it, has been hot stuff lately in various successful incarnations. Is it any surprise that a society which obsesses over looking as young and perfect as possible has caught vampire fever? Typically depicted as strong, deadly, passionate creatures that never age and never die, vampires have been a secret fantasy of many for decades. Some vamp fans are just coming out of the closet now, and whole new generations of them are being created simply by growing up in a world where seventeen year olds can be world-famous pop culture kings and queens, and vampire characters are portrayed by chiseled, steamy, and all-around damn fine looking men.

As for the movie, quite frankly I don’t care if it rocks or not. I’m going to go see it, naturally, but I decided to wait until a weekday matinee to avoid as many screaming, teenage, double X-chromosomes as I could. But if ends up sucking major donkey balls, I won’t be bothered because my true addiction lies with the books. If the movie doesn’t suck, well, that’ll be just nifty. Admittedly I think Robert Pattinson is pretty damn sexy, but I will acknowledge the hair is quite out of control. When my sister saw a picture of Pattinson she described him as “a big bag of douche.”

I am merely defending my case, not asking people to convert. Immortal blood drinkers, shape-shifters, mystical powers and a sappy love story are not for everyone, but for some of us it is one hell of a good time. Go ahead, call us tools, dorks or whatever the schoolyard kids are throwing around these days. Laugh at us; you will not diminish our enthusiasm. Let us have our fun while we dream of beautiful people who sparkle in the sun, drive around in Aston Martins, drink blood and live happily ever after, forever. Eventually we’ll crash back to Earth and go throw the motions of real life, all the while secretly still clinging to the painful hope that someday, such a thing could actually happen to us.

Delusional, yes. Pathetic, perhaps. But hey, at least it’s not crack. 

Avril Brown


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