Eclipse (Stephenie Meyer)

Reading a multiple book series in sequence is always an interesting experience, it really highlights the depths and complexities of the mythology created by the writer, while also allowing the plot to flow from one book to the other without the reader having to try and remember the previous book's events. 'Eclipse' is, for me, the best novel in the 'Twilight' saga. While 'Twilight' and 'New Moon' go in for a great deal of teen angst and tortured romance, perhaps a bit too much for an adult reader, 'Eclipse' leans more towards action, suspense and a more thorough analysis of vampire and werewolf history. And it's all the better for it. On this re-read, I was genuinely absorbed, and some of the prose was actually quite technically proficient to boot.

In 'Eclipse', the dangers facing Bella grow ever more dire. Evil and cunning vampiress Victoria, who still bears a blood grudge against Bella for the loss of her mate James in book 1, sets about creating an army of newborn vampires (it transpires that newborns are stronger than established vampires, in a brute force sense at least) to take on the Cullen coven and allow Victoria to claim her revenge. Meanwhile, tensions heighten between the Quileute werewolf pack and the Cullens, until the threat of the newborns leads to an uneasy truce. All of this is complicated by the rivalry of Edward and Jacob, who both love Bella intensely and uncompromisingly, but know they must work together to keep her safe.

The main plot of the novel, as described above, is incredibly tense, well paced and with just enough information withheld to keep suspense at a premium. The final battle, when it takes place, is absolutely terrific, with some real heart stopping moments. The visit of the Volturi is maginificently creepy, and the ending, where Edward and Bella begin to plan their nuptials, sets us up nicely for the beginning of 'Breaking Dawn' and Jacob's heartbreak and self-imposed exile. There is notably less cheesy romance from Meyer in this one, with only a laboured extended reference to Heathcliff, Cathy and Edgar to describe the relationship between Edward, Bella and Jacob detracting from the enjoyability of the book. There are a couple of really magical passages in this one. Rosalie's description of how she became a vampire and why she believes Bella ultimately giving up her mortality is the wrong choice is the first of these magical moments. Meyer's character development is excellent here, allowing a previously unsympathetic character to gain our sympathy. The second spine tingling moment is Jasper's account of the vampire wars of the 1860s, which ironically seem to have run parallel to the American Civil War. As his expertise in handling armies of newborns is so integral to the Cullens' success in this book, his discussion of this time is truly fascinating. Another notable section that piqued my interest was the growth of the werewolf pack to include Seth and Leah Clearwater and the expansion of our knowledge of werewolf lore that this allows us into. Jacob gets the epilogue, allowing us a different narrator for the first time, and this, too is interesting.

I'd venture to say that this is the book where Meyer realises how best to optimise her formula: enough romance to keep the focus on Bella and Edward's relationship, but enough action to keep the reader busy. This is a very good piece of teen fiction and well worth your time...even more so than the other books in this series. Although my forthcoming re-read of 'Breaking Dawn' may change my opinion (as I ironically remember the most recent book the least well), my current view is that 'Eclipse' is a notch or two above 'New Moon' and 'Twilight'.

New Moon (Stephenie Meyer)

So, I'm now two books into my re-read of the 'Twilight' saga. I had mixed memories of this one. In many ways it's the most "page turning" of the saga, but as memory served, it also contains some of the worst passages of writing in the series, at least if one thinks about it technically, so I was definitely looking forward to reading it again and re-assessing it with fresh eyes.

'New Moon' follows on directly from the end of 'Twilight'. Bella and Edward are together and in love, which Meyer clumsily reminds us of through a whole laundry list of badly conceived 'Romeo and Juliet' allusions. Bella is studying 'Romeo and Juliet' at school. Bella and Edward are watching 'Romeo and Juliet' on DVD. Edward thinks Romeo is a fool. Both wonder if suicide is the only option for a bereaved lover. When people talk about hating the 'Twilight' saga for its schmaltz, passages like this are what make you understand their point of view. Of course, all this sledgehammer foreshadowing is leading somewhere, and when Bella accidentally cuts herself at the Cullen house and puts herself in danger due to Jasper's lower tolerance for the smell of human blood, Edward decides it would be better for Bella if he and his "family" left. In order to achieve this, Edward rather brutally tells her that he does not love her. Bella collapses in the woods in a trance of grief, and so begins Bella's love coma, where nothing is real for her and nothing matters to her. She walks, she talks, but she, to paraphrase 'American Psycho' is simply...not...there. Meyer actually employs an interesting structural device here by having empty chapters with the names of months heading them in order to show Bella's desensitised state. It is only when her father tells her that he is going to send her back to her mother that Bella seeks company to throw him off the scent. Enter her Native American pal Jacob Black, who Bella commissions to repair some motorcycles she found, in order to give her the kind of adrenaline rush she needs to hear Edward in her head...

It's only at this point, for me, where this book moves from bearable to page-turning. In 'Twilight', it was heavily hinted at that the Quileute tribe of Native Americans have a past with the "cold ones" and a link to wolves. Here, Meyer does a great job of revealing that Jacob's friends and then Jacob himself are in fact werewolves mystically created to fight vampires and defend Quileute lands. In establishing the bond of friendship between Bella and Jacob, Meyer creates one of the most famed love triangles in existence. Jacob falls for Bella, but Bella is obsessed still by Edward. And sooner rather than later, she will have to save his life...

'New Moon' does a good job of advancing the plot of the overall saga, but the structure of the book is unsatisfying, with the first third being Bella's misery under the microscope, the second third being the werewolf plot and the final third being the adventure in Italy saving Edward...with each of those sections having a great deal of unnecessary filler that Meyer would've been better off editing out, particularly the endless domestic or travelling sections (how many times do we need to hear about Bella preparing food for Charlie? Do we need an entire account of Alice and Bella's plane journey?). The dialogue is, at times, excruciating, and the worn out James Dean-isms spouted by Edward and Jacob quickly get tiresome. One interesting thing about the book, however, is that the primary hero- Edward Cullen- and the primary antagonist- the evil vampire Victoria- are off screen for the majority of the book. This is a brave decision on Meyer's part, and I think that it works well, because it gives her the space to establish Jacob as a major player.

If you look at 'New Moon' as one section of one giant book, it does what it should, but read in isolation, its flaws are probably greater than its achievements, despite the fact that the werewolf storyline made me want to pump my fist in the air with joy (everyone knows werewolves are cool). However, I think it is important to look at 'New Moon' in its overall context...which is to set up the edge of the seat cataclysms about to strike in 'Eclipse' and 'Breaking Dawn'.

Twilight (Stephenie Meyer)

I first became aware of Stephenie Meyer's 'Twilight' series about three and a half years ago when a lot of the more bookish students I taught began to ask me if I'd read them. It was hard not to notice the sheer popularity of the series, as the iconic cover, its symbolism so redolent of Eve's Fall from Paradise, was in the hands of so many students around the campus. My curiosity was definitely aroused, and I began thinking I should read these books, given they were such a talking point among the kids, and given that any interest in books needs to be encouraged as much as possible by any English teacher. The point where I went and bought the books was the point when the film adaptation of the first book was a month or so away from coming out. I read an article about it in 'Empire' and decided that I would read the books, see the film and see what the fuss was about.

So it was that between October and November of 2008 I read all four books in the series, and thoroughly enjoyed them. Now, I'm well aware that some people would hold them responsible for the bastardisation of literature and the dumbing down of romantic fiction, but Jesus Christ, don't be so serious. Do you know how many young people who were self-confessed non-readers are now avid readers? Do you know how many young people moved on from the 'Twilight' saga to the likes of 'Wuthering Heights' and 'Jane Eyre', not to mention 'Dracula' and 'Frankenstein'? This series, like Harry Potter before it, is literary catnip to young readers, and the value of that is incalculable. I get to see this on a daily basis and believe me, it's really important. If kids are reading, we live in a world worth living in. Which leads me to why I'm reviewing 'Twilight'  now, when everybody knows about it and has an opinion on it, even if they've neither read the books nor seen the films. What with the first part of the last film just having been released, I decided I wanted to re-read the saga before I watched 'Breaking Dawn: Part One'. So here we are.

I feel I should also defend the series against three other oft-held complaints: one, that it's badly written;  two, that it ruins the literary/mythical construct of the vampire; and three, that it isn't as good as the Harry Potter series. Well look, Meyer's prose style is not likely to be mistaken for George Eliot any time soon, but it's certainly not bad, particularly in the later books. And if it is occasionally overwrought and brimming with angst, bear in mind that this is a book ostensibly written for teenage girls. It's entirely appropriate for that audience. To address complaint number two, the glut of vampire myths from around the world leave any writer plenty of room to play around with the conventions. In my view, Meyer does some very original things with the source material and should be applauded for avoiding the 90s cliché of the "rock star" vampire. And as for the third, well, 'Twilight' is a very different beast to 'Harry Potter' and I'm not sure you can compare them directly. What I will say is that 'Twilight' moves much quicker and is much more economically plotted than Potter is. And if we're comparing stylistics, well, as irritating as Bella's first person narrative voice can get at times, it's certainly no worse than Rowling's bombastic omniscience in the later Potter books. Ultimately, I like both series because they got kids reading and because they're a fun diversion for an older reader taking a break from literary fiction. Because nobody can spend all of their time reading Goethe, after all.

The plotting and world creation is certainly the strongest element of 'Twilight': even if you're a sceptic, open the book, read the first chapter, and I defy you not to want to find out what happens next. For real. Bella Swan is a clumsy, broadly average, academic and underconfident Junior in high school. She moves from Phoenix, Arizona to Forks in the Pacific Northwest to be with her father, the local police chief, due to her mother marrying a baseball player who moves around regularly to find a spot with a Minor League team. Bella finds the idea of Forks mortifying. It is small, tight knit, rural and above all, rainy- in fact, the rainiest place in mainland America- so her adjustment is difficult. At the local high school, where the school population is the same size as her Junior Class back in Phoenix, she quickly becomes aware of a mysterious group of students who stand aloof from the rest of the school. Eerily beautiful, they fascinate her from the get-go. After becoming lab partners with the most striking of their number, one Edward Cullen, a series of strange events first estrange them but then bring them together. Eventually, Bella comes to an inescapable conclusion: Edward and the whole of his "family" are vampires. And she is in love with one.

'Twilight' makes use of literary tropes from all over the canon. Edward Cullen, tortured and noble, rude but charming, seems based on a synthesis of two creations of the Bronte sisters, Edward Fairfax Rochester and Heathcliff. Edward's decision not to feed on humans echoes that of Louis de Pointe du Lac from 'An Interview with the Vampire'. Bella's own clumsy yet forthright nature is just like Jane Eyre's, while the general sense of Gothic gloominess and mystique is familiar from 'Dracula'. The end section, meanwhile, where the obsessive hunter James explains his dastardly plans to Bella while she's helpless, seems to come straight out of the playbooks of various Bond villains. However it's the original touches Meyer adds that make this book more than the sum of its parts, and the way everything knits together is very satisfying.

Lord knows, 'Twilight' is never going to win the Booker of Bookers or anything. It isn't that sort of book. But there is room on the library shelves for all types of books, and it's important that teens have something accessible and memorable to read. Think about how bad children's literature used to be. Nowadays, there's much more to pique their interest, and thank goodness for that. So I forgive 'Twilight' for its cheesy dialogue, slim characterisation and overwrought emotions...because when it comes down to it, this book is a damned fun read. And there's nothing wrong with that.

Up In The Air (Walter Kirn)

There is no better birthday present than a well chosen book, in my opinion. Obviously, friends of mine are well aware that a good book is a present I will relish and thus I tend to end of with a backlog of books to work through. Walter Kirn's 'Up In The Air' was given to me by a wonderful friend of mine with excellent taste in books as a belated birthday gift almost two years ago, so it is with pleasure that I write this blog post, having finally got around to reading it and having rather enjoyed it. Appropriately enough given the subject matter of this novel, I began reading it on a plane, and was thus instantly in synch with the mood of the narrative. Ryan Bingham is a "Careers Transitions Counselor", a catchy euphemism which essentially means he helps companies to cut costs by shedding staff and then counselling said staff so that they do not feel agrieved by their dismissal. Ryan hates this job, but enjoys one aspect of it: the constant air travel he undertakes to complete his assignments. Ryan feels at home in "air world" in a way that he doesn't on the ground. The rituals, the food, the small talk at twenty thousand feet, he loves it all. He even loves the bland runway hotels he sleeps in and the identikit airline club lounges he drinks in with acquaintances he meets in "air world". Our hero has no need of friends and no need of a house (he let the lease run out). All he cares about is one thing: racking up one million frequent flier air miles before he quits his job at ISM. At this milestone, he will sit back and reconsider the path that his life has taken. As it turns out though, reaching this milestone is more complicated than he could possibly have imagined at the outset of the narrative, and it's the path he walks to reach his target which is important, rather than the  moment itself.

The narrative voice of 'Up In The Air' instantly appealed to me, chiefly because it is the kind of voice I'm so used to from some of my very favourite works: a kind of disengaged, emotionless, matter of fact monotone. This type of narration is perfect for a book of this nature, not only because it fits the character addressing the reader, but also because it gives a realistic sense of what it is to live in the way that Ryan Bingham does. It's also interesting to note that, as is common in postmodern fiction, the plot is a series of loosely connected events that only matter in so far as they help us to better understand the protagonist. Some of the obstacles that get in Ryan's way as he attempts to it his million include potential sexual partners, his sisters (one of whom is getting married in Ryan's final destination city but insists on creating a crisis that takes Ryan off schedule), his employer, clients and a mysterious corporation who may or may not be headhunting him. It's all perfectly readable, although one does get frustrated by Ryan's empty existential outlook at times.

One of the few disappointing things about 'Up In The Air' was the ending, which to me, came rather too far from left field and somewhatinvalidated a lot of the good work that went beforehand. It's also true that the author doesn't necessarily fully explore the reasons behind Ryan's obsessive quest. All in all, this is a stylish little book, but one that lacks substance and, ultimately, a bit of heart. It is, however, certainly worth reading, just as people have told me that the film is well worth watching. Now that I've finally read the book, I may well track down the film...

Beginners (Raymond Carver)

First of all, dear readers, I must apologise for the lack of posts recently. Although I finished re-reading Raymond Carver's 'Beginners' over the Atlantic Ocean on the way home from Chicago at the end of October, I simply have not found the time to write about it. Ok, obligatory blogger's apology done with. Now, to business!

This is a very special book to me for a number of reasons. I first read it in October 2009 on a train home from Birmingham, having bought it from Borders in the Bull Ring, after I had visited a very dear friend of mine for the first time in an age. The seventeen stories contained in the volume held me, obsessed me, and inspired me to change my own prose style. Revisiting it two years later seemed a no brainer.

Moreover, the story behind this book is a fascinating one. When Carver submitted these stories to his editor and mentor Gordon Lish in 1980, they were cut down to the "linguistic bone" and became Carver's most famous collection 'What We Talk About When We Talk About Love'. Some of the original drafts were cut by as much as 78% for publication. Character names were changed. Titles were changed. Tess Gallagher, Carver's partner, who had loved the original stories, was horrified at the changes. Carver dedicated 'What We Talk About...' to Gallagher and promised one day to republish the original stories. As of Carver's death in 1988, this had not happened, and so Gallagher put her trust in William L. Stull and Maureen P. Carroll to restore the text. This process took twenty years, with the text finally being published in September 2009.

Having read 'What We Talk About...' many years ago, I was struck by how much richer and more human the extended versions of the stories are. From the first story 'Why Don't You Dance?', I preferred the 'Beginners' versions to the 'What We Talk About...' versions. In these restored narratives, Carver has the space to develop the motivations of his characters, the breadth to run the gamut of emotions. There is a wisdom and a profound sense of dignity about 'Beginners' that I think 'What We Talk About...' lacks. It isn't that the stories in 'Beginners' are of a completely different style- he was naturally a writer with an instinctive sense of economy- but they are less extreme in the staccato sentence structures and more assiduous about letting the reader know who these people are.

The themes presented by Carver include divorce, alcoholism, death and relationships. It is interesting that many of the concerns of America in the late 1970s and early 1980s are represented so frequently, with characters attending analysis and Alcoholics Anonymous. There is a sense of middle America and its fears, the way security can be ripped away in a moment. Several of the best stories are extremely dark and sombre in tone. In 'Tell The Women We're Going' a pair of men who grew up too quickly turn an afternnon of pool and drinking into one of rape and murder. 'So Much Water, So Close To Home' concerns the discovery of a body and the suspicions and rifts this creates in a small community. One of the very best stories, 'A Small, Good Thing' tells the story of parents who unexpectedly lose their son in protracted circumstances against the backdrop of menacing phonecalls from the baker who made their son's uncollected birthday cake. The ending to this one, however, is markedly more humane, heartwarming even.

Elsewhere, 'Gazebo' is an extended dissertation on alcoholics in relationships with each other, the title story 'Beginners' contains a masterful and extended dialogue section from which Lish first found the "what we talk about, when we talk about love" line, and 'Where Is Everyone?' is a first person narrative from the perspective of an alcoholic divorcee who hates his ungrateful children and takes refuge with his mother. All of these stories are incredibly subtle and moving, masterfully paced and beautifully written. Only a couple fail to satisfy: 'Pie' doesn't seem to go anywhere and 'Distance' seems to drag a little.

I found this to be a deeply satisfying re-read. The stories were certainly as good as I remembered them being, and it certainly helped pass the time on a long and tedious plane journey, just as it had originally helped pass the time on a long train journey...at any rate, this book comes highly recommended, particularly if you are a fan of Carver and his spare style...I'm convinced that if you read this, you'll see that his original uncut stories are in fact better, and that Gordon Lish did readers a disservice with his swingeing cuts of 30 years ago.