Now, at first glance, that might seem like a very interesting title. You mean that someone is actually going to defend this nearly decade-old novel that has long since become the butt of many a “this is a better love story than…” joke? That someone thinks this is somehow still relevant to modern story-telling, despite the widely-held critical view that this novel is garbage?
That is exactly what I intend to do.
Now, don’t get me wrong. I agree that Twilight is basically a massive tragedy and the fact that it influenced so many teenage girls is really quite sad. But despite all of its (admittedly many) shortcomings, Twilight had one thing that turns it from laughingstock to pitiable wreck: potential.
Again, saying that the novel had potential might seem a bit odd, considering that it generated millions of sales, spawned a successful movie series, and even has its own conventions (Twicon, it is apparently called). When I say “potential,” I am speaking exclusively of the actual story, so that when comparing Twilight to Harry Potter one could actually talk about literary quality rather than popularity.
Let’s start with the protagonist, and use a few examples to help us here. Typically when we meet a protagonist, we are made aware of their unique traits and personality, something that helps us define them quickly and realize that they are different from the rest of the world around them. In Harry Potter, it is quickly established that the titular hero is different and important because of his accidental vanquishing of Voldemort as a child, and his ironically-awful childhood living with his aunt and uncle. In Hunger Games, Katniss willingly breaks the law in order to hunt using her excellent archery skills, allowing her to, most likely, keep many people in District 12 alive who would otherwise have perished without her assistance. These characters define themselves by their good deeds and unique traits.
Let’s take a look at Bella Swan. She is not a stranger to tragedy, as her parents are divorced and she effectively has to choose which one to live with; in the end, she chooses to move to an unknown town, where she knows nobody and has to find her way. Right from the start, that sounds like a pretty decent concept, even minus the supernatural aspect. But what make her unique? Oh, she’s apparently immune to any mental abilities of the vampires. Okay, great. So she has a fairly decent background that could allow her to become a unique and potentially-powerful feminine figure. But why does nobody consider her a candidate for the “powerful female protagonist for the next generation” category?
Because she has the personality of a potato.
To be honest, I might be insulting the potato here, because at least I like potatoes. Despite an otherwise-interesting character mock-up, Meyer’s writing portrays Bella as some sort of flat, emotionless, dreary character who is borderline obsessive and completely idiotic. In her first introduction, she treats her parents awfully, almost making fun of her father for still loving her mother, and coming just short of calling her mother a paranoid lunatic. We do not even get a hint of her superpower (that whole “immunity to mental vampire powers” thing) until over halfway through the first novel…that’s a long time to be treading water on bad characterization. So no matter how good of a concept Bella may have been as a character, the actual execution of the concept was a travesty. But the story alone does not rely on Bella.
Edward is an interesting character on paper, too. A century-old vampire, he considers himself a monster and, for the most part, chooses to distance himself from others, in part because he can read the minds of other people and understands their true nature (I might be fudging that last part a bit). As a vampire he is tough, fast, and nearly indestructible, but has instilled in him a sense of vulnerability and sympathy which causes him to feed on animal blood rather than human blood for sustenance (not unlike Angel, from the Buffyverse). He is of course supported by an equally-interesting cast, including (but not limited to) a 300-year old vampire who as a human hunted such monsters and has such self-restraint that he acts as a doctor; a century-old vampire with the ability to see the future; another century-old vampire who was turned after she had been left beaten and gang-raped by her husband and friends, and is bitterly jealous of Bella because vampires cannot have children; and a former Civil War soldier who was turned during that time and has the ability to manipulate the emotions of those around him. That, in it of itself, is exceptionally interesting, and includes so much background and differing personalities to fit into a Joss Whedon show. So why aren’t they so favored by critical media?
Because their personalities are the equivalent of a potato that’s caught fire.
Most of the problems Twilight has are rooted in awful characterization. Bella is a boring ditz, Edward is an obsessive psychopath, and the other vampires are (mostly) equally as boring or terrible. Added to that is the fact that the villains are less engaging than my calculator, and you have yourself a massive train-wreck. So why am I bothering to defend it?
Because it had potential.
Look at the basic plot of the entire series. You have a teenage girl who has been thrust into the world of the supernatural, befriending families of vampires and werewolves which seek to protect her from an ancient society that wants nothing more than to see her dead because she has discovered their secrets. Now doesn’t that actually sound interesting? (The answer is “yes,” by the way. In case you were wondering.) The problem is that terrible writing combined with a weak effort to work in a love plot that is actually frighteningly abusive and awful twisted that original concept into something laughable, into something that nobody will ever care about even ten years from now other than to make fun of it.
Twilight had potential to be something great. It had potential for Bella to lead the charge of a new age of female protagonists. It had potential to turn vampires into an analogy for ourselves, about the darkness within us all. It had potential to influence an entire generation of readers the same way Harry Potter did.
Unfortunately, it did none of those things, and as a result will only survive in infamy. True, Twilight is just one of many bad novels or stories that had potential to be great. But in a literary world where strong female protagonists that aren’t stone-faced murderers is still uncommon, it could have been something truly amazing.
Jacob Ryckman 