In the twenty-seventh chapter of Breaking Dawn, it becomes painfully obvious that Stephenie Meyer has ran out of any more of her batshit ideas and is merely stalling until she can think of a way to advance her own plot. It's so bad that weeks pass in just a couple sentences. And then another vampire shows up and we're forced to prepare for the end of this shitfest. Intrigued? Then it's time for Mark to read Breaking Dawn.
CHAPTER 27: TRAVEL PLANS
Much like the majority of all of her books, the 27th chapter of this horrendous pile of poo is completely pointless. NOTHING. HAPPENS.
However, unlike previous chapters where Meyer likes to wallow in the shallow characterization of Edward and Bella because she somehow thinks it's "romantic," this is the first time I felt Stephenie Meyer actually ran out of ideas. In fact, it feels like she completely stalled her own story.
Days and weeks pass in just a sentence or two. Would you like me to share with you the wonderful tidbits of information she does happen to give us?
In the opening moments of this chapter, Bella asks, "Often, when I looked back over my first three months as an immortal, I imagined how the thread of my life might look in the Fates' loom--who knew but that it actually existed?"
I'm having a hard time understanding the basic point of this sentence and I'm also failing to understand how any living person would ever imagine their life in the Fates' loom. Except Meyer then runs with this analogy to an extremely absurd length:
- I thought it had probably started out as a nice beige, something supportive and non-confrontational, something that would look good in the background. Now it felt like it must be bright crimson, or maybe glistening gold.
holy god what are you fucking talking about are you high
- I was surprised by some of the threads I got to include in my life. The werewolves, with their deep, woodsy colors, were not something I'd expected...
are you seriously pursuing this asinine analogy oh my god someone remove your ability to write immediately
It immediately struck me as not only a really bizarre thought to entertain, but as an incredibly telling sign:
Stephenie Meyer was getting really, really lazy, especially for someone who will spend 8 chapters in a row investigating whether or not Edward's got a boner for Bella.
- "Yeesh!" I complained to Edward one night after we'd put Renesmee in her wrought-iron crib.
- The days were not long enough for me to get my fill of adoring my daughter.
- Renesmee spoke her first word when she was exactly one week old.
- When she walked for the first time, fewer than three weeks later, it was similar.
- At three months old, Renesmee could have been a big one-year-old, or a small two-year-old.
- I'd been reading Tennyson to her one night...
- Until the day that Aro's present showed up...
- We bought tickets for Italy the day after Renesmee turned three months.
All evidence of how extremely dismissive Meyer becomes about time. All of Breaking Dawn acts as a day-to-day document of the characters' lives, yet she deals with three months of time in precisely 4 pages. UGH YOU ARE A TERRIBLE WRITER.
Also, Bella reads her daughter Tennyson to help her go to sleep. what
There's one last bit of HOW CONVENIENT rage I felt in this waste-of-a-space chapter. Irina (Laurent's old girlfriend), spots Renesmee hunting with Jacob, growls at Bella, and disappears. It's spelled out in painful detail assumed that she is heading to tattle on the Cullens for making a vampire baby. Oh great, now the "action" is going to come. Sigh. THIS IS SO PREDICTABLY BORING.
OH GOD I STILL HAVE LIKE 12 MORE CHAPTERS. WHYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYY.