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Twilight of the Damned

I'm about to read Twilight for the first time. Yes, you heard me. Twilight.

Let me explain.

I'm doing the 50 Book Challenge this year which means I have to read 50 books before the end of the year. This in itself is not much of a challenge seeing as I can't go more than 24 hours without a book in my hands. I once heard a rumor that I squeezed my way out of the birth canal holding onto Green Eggs and Ham. The details regarding how I accomplished this feat are sketchy, but I wouldn't put it past my mother sneaking me the reading material. I inherited my love of books from her after all. But I digress.

So far, I've read The Phantom Tollbooth by Norton Juster (a book about a lazy, sullen little punk-not an emo kid, strangely enough-who decides to stop moping all the time and become a productive member of society after he is transported to a land called the Kingdom of Wisdom through a mysterious tollbooth he finds in his bedroom...because you know, that shit just happens) and John Dies at the End by David Wong (a book about the questionable wisdom in accepting strange drugs from fake Jamaicans). Both were entertaining books and I feel as if my life has been enriched by reading them. So after sinking my teeth into such rich fare, why subject myself to what has been described to me as, "Mediocre at best. It's vampire romance for tweens who don't know any better. Seriously, don't waste your time."? Why bother when there are better, worthier books out there?

Have you ever negatively critiqued a book or a movie you've never read or watched because the description you received of said book/movie was just so god awful you didn't want to subject yourself to its hideousness? Have you ever done this and been called out for it? Yeah. There you go. I've heard so many terrible things about this series. Wooden one dimensional characters (Matthew Inman of The Oatmeal gives a priceless description of Bella during his own comic critique of the series...a definite must read). A leaden plot. Sparkly vampires. I mean, seriously? Sparkly vampires??? That last sentence alone is enough to make me cringe. But all of those things aside, what right do I have to put down someone else's hard work when I haven't even read page one of the damned thing? Especially considering my own haphazard attempts at literature.

As I mentioned before, I self published a book of my own. Not a very good book, mind you, but a handful of poor, misbegotten souls were conned into buying the thing. After reading over my own devil spawn of a novel, finding all the crap descriptions, glaring plot holes, and just all around badness that is my writing-not to mention quite a few typos missed during the initial editing process...seriously, I suck-I feel terrible for what I have inflicted upon these poor bastards. Not bad enough to issue a refund because, you know, money, but enough to feel I have no right to judge anyone else's less than stellar novelizing attempts.

That's why I'm subjecting myself to reading this book. Because after all the trash talk, it's time for me to man up...or woman up...I don't have testicles, so whatever...and finally give the devil her due. Namely Stephenie Meyer. Damn her hide.

Pray for me, people. Pray for me.

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