The last of the screen adaptations of the books premiers late Thursday night, and as I have done for the last four years, I will be attending the midnight showing. But I won't be going alone. I will be going with two young women, who are very special to me. And we will be going with millions of other people (not all in the same theater, of course).
In the early fall of 2008, one of the dearest people I know suggested I read the series. I had seen the book displays all over the place, and as a newbie to Facebook, I had seen so many Edward and Bella pieces of flare, I already felt a little left out, because I didn't know the story. As with many of us who are periodically angsty, I was going through "one of those times" and really needed a diversion. I used a forty percent off Barnes and Noble coupon and bought the set. Some of the best money I ever spent.Much to my amazement, I was sucked in. The books were like a Dyson--they never lost suction.
I think it's important at this time to mention, I'm a relatively intelligent person. I love reading and writing. I know the difference between high literature and low literature. I know that the "Twilight" series does not rise to the level of "Of Mice and Men," or "The Fountainhead." I know that learned people are horrified by the message these books send to young women--that if they just meet the right boy their whole world will change. But as much as I know all of these things, I know some other things as well.
I know that the books in this series provided an escape during a time in which I needed one. I know that they inspired young people to read as they hadn't done since the release of J.K. Rowlings' Harry Potter series, and maybe even a different segment of young people that hadn't yet been reached. I know I started reading more as a result. I know they sparked a ridiculous phenomenon that still carries people away today--sometimes to the point of absurdity, and at others just to the edge of silliness. Myself included.
And that's the key phrase: "myself included."
People are often captured by things that they can relate to, or that are very special to them. You may have heard of "Trekkies" and "Whovians?" Not all fandoms have adopted, or been given names, but they are no less obsessive. Die-hard comic book fans attend conventions all over the world in hopes of meeting their very favorite heroes and characters, never for a moment accepting the fiction of the situation.
"Twilight," whether good or bad, is like all of these other things, in that it gives its people something they didn't have before--a place where they feel they belong. A comic-book salesman I knew referred to it as a sense of "tribe."
This reassured me when I felt silly for deciding to attend a "Twilight" themed convention in 2009. I really wanted to go, but I felt like a total dweeb. In retrospect, it was one of the funnest weekends ever, and it was really good for me. In spite of the "horrible" message the books send young women about not being independent, it was that convention that inspired me to go on my first major trip all on my own. For the first time, I got on a plane by myself for something other than work. I learned that if there was someplace I really wanted to go, I didn't need to have someone else to come along. I know so many people who hear that I did that, and that I have taken other trips and it stupefies them. Many women I know won't even eat at Applebees by themselves! And that stupefies me. What the what?Because I so wanted to be a part of what my tribe was doing, I challenged the inner dialogue I often have with myself about what I can and cannot do.
What's more is that after being so inspired by these books to read other books, I was also inspired to write again--something I hadn't been willing to entertain for more than ten years. Now, I have some folks who think I do okay at it, and I like that, but more important than anyone who reads what I write, is the simple fact that I always loved to do it, and I am doing it again. That's worth something.
I'm not trying to convince anyone that "Twilight" is anything special in and of itself. It is what it is for me, and for the millions of people who connected with it, for whatever reason. It's more about what the sense of belonging to something so big can do for a person, or even for large group of people.
Many of us spend a good portion of our lives feeling like we're stuck on the outside and can't get in. There's no place for us. Sometimes it takes a gigantic door to let us in, and once we cross the threshold, the whole world becomes ours.
I, like many of my fellow "Twihards," or "Twekkies," have re-read the series multiple times. In my subsequent readings, I was no less enamored or enthralled, even as sections of dialogue seemed ludicrous at times, and childish at others. I get it. But knowing how flawed something is doesn't always make it less valuable.
As Thursday night is fast approaching, and a "Breaking Dawn Part 2" trailer is coincidentally playing on my television right now, I'm a little wistful and sad. There currently is no promise of five more movies, or even more books. There won't be a three-part prequel to the three-part prequel by Disney. There won't be a reincarnation of the "Amazing Edward." At this point, it's all coming to an end. My tribe will not have a "one more thing" coming up to hold us together. We probably won't disband, but what is a tribe without a shaman?
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| Abby & Stacy--My Twilight Girls |
I know we will stay in contact, and that while things will be different, we will always have this sense of belonging, and the many others that came about because of this "Twilight" connection.
So, for everyone who has a strong distaste for such ridiculous literary tripe, I encourage you to just insert the name of your own tribe in every place I wrote "Twilight" or something obviously related, and settle on the feeling you have. Focus hard. Do you feel it? Okay. That's what being part of the "Twilight Saga" means for my tribe.
Ours--The Bravery
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