I admit it.
I enjoyed Twilight. I’ve read all of the books, and they’re a total guilty pleasure. Like Bagel Bites. I know that I shouldn’t just throw a tray of Bagel Bites in the toaster oven and eat all of them, but I do it anyway. When the rest of what I’m reading is Stanislavsky and Nietzsche, sometimes I just really crave Bagel Bites.
I’m getting quite tired of people comparing them to other vampire books, though. I can see the Buffy comparisons, but Buffy has the important distinctions of a) being well written and b) portraying vampires as dangerous fucking monsters. The one series that makes me want to stab people upon comparison?
The Anne Rice Vampire Chronicles.
I know these aren’t great literature—if Twilight is Bagel Bites, the Chronicles are DiGiorno pizza; the kind that pretends it tastes JUST LIKE REAL PIZZA but doesn’t at all. The real problem I have with the comparison is how people compare the two kinds of vampires without looking at the fact the TWILIGHT VAMPIRES AREN’T REAL VAMPIRES.
I’m serious. Stephenie Meyers has admitted she didn’t do research on vampire legends. She just made shit up and used an already-present name for it. Traditionally, vampires are scary as shit, and somehow still incredibly sexy. The act of drinking human blood from the neck is extremely sensual, so when you add mystery into the mix they’re irresistible. In the Chronicles, they can set things on fire, fly, hear thoughts, and move shit with their minds. They’re fucking badasses with more money than God.
Oh, and they’re also tortured, miserable, bored creatures who are incinerated instantly upon contact with sunlight and are faced with the prospect of facing eternity alone, because even if they turn a person into a vampire for a friend, they’ll just end up hating each other.
They don’t have venom, they don’t have powers like motherfucking X-Men, they don’t eat moose, and they sure as hell don’t sparkle. They’re VAMPIRES.
And yet, a new generation of potential vampire fans is presented with a pussified version of the most badass antiheroes EVER. My generation (okay, technically the generation just before) had Lestat, who became a rockstar and almost gave away the huge secret of vampires existing because he was BORED. We had Armand, who was part of a vampire theater group that killed and ate people in public BECAUSE THEY COULD. We had Louis, who bitched and moaned AND WAS TOLD BY EVERYONE ELSE TO PUT ON HIS BIG BOY PANTIES AND KILL SOME PEOPLE. They were fucking awesome.
But what do these girls get? An abusive boyfriend. Who fucking sparkles.
Please, someone, give the vampires back their fangs!