The name of this book is actually Breaking Dawn but you wouldn’t know what I was talking about if I used it. See, I got this book on Monday from the library. I ignored the librarian’s judging, judging eyes because I was too busy thinking “Hurrah! Now I will read it today, write a blog post about it tomorrow, and that will take care of my Tuesday obligations!” Little did I know that this would be a novel so excruciating that I would need to take frequent breaks to soothe my battered psyche into submission and bang my head against a wall. In the end, I only very nearly escaped being strangled by my own good taste by turning on episodes of Black Adder the Third in the background during the last 200 pages.
I had a feeling this one would be different because I was at the library the morning after it came out, when the five teen girl movie volunteers staggered in around noon after staying up all night waiting at the book store. “Well?” I asked them. “How is it?” Since they’d been talking about nothing else for the past two months it wasn’t hard for them to know what I was talking about. I was shocked when they all shouted “HORRIBLE!” at once and one of them added “It’s like Stephanie Meyer didn’t even write it.” After valiantly reading the other three books so that you don’t have to, I started wondering about this condemnation. Could it be that Stephanie Meyer, in the fourth book of her wildly popular and horribly written teen girl series, has FINALLY learned how to write, letting down her vapid fans everywhere?
The answer, I’m sad to tell you, is NO. For the love of all that is at least properly punctuated, NO. So, proceed IF YOU DARE.
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