An Open Letter to Bella Swan

Dear Bella,

After having read two books in which you feature, I am not sure I have ever met (in fiction or reality) a more tragic charcter than yourself. And I teach highschool!

Truly, I wasn’t even sure that I would get past the first chapter of the book that introduced me to the crazy (albeit fictional) life that you are living in Washington State. It read a great deal like a young adolescents diary and it felt dirty to be reading it. Also cringe-worthy. Have you heard of Cringe? You could surely earn a place in the next book with admissions such as this:

“The hole in my chest was worse than ever. I’d thought that I’d been getting it under control, but I found myself hunched over, day after day, clutching my sides together and gasping for air. I wasn’t handling alone well.”

When you tell everyone all this angst is over a vampire (further complicated by your best friend turning into a werewolf), well, it’s the makings of a train wreck and I’ve found I can’t look away.

As a woman (though admittedly, one who is not in love with vampires), I find it slightly disheartening that at 18 (I’m only just finished with the second book) you’ve let a boy crush you so easily. If I could retake my late teen years armed with all of the things I know now, I daresay that no boy, not even an immortal one, would have had me pining away. Bella! Get out and see the world! You live near Seattle and Portland – both vibrant, liberal communities. Sisters are doing it for themselves, and they no longer need the approval of their vampire lover.

And frankly, if you are going to be with this Edward boy, the least you could do is trust that his 100 and some odd years of experience only wants the best for you. Go to college! Pick a good one, take some enlightening classes and do a keg stand or two! Sure, if you get your wish, you will have all of eternity to learn many subjects in great depth, but there is nothing quite like the first freedom that college brings forth.

Thanks to reams of Internet spoilers and young girls who screech at me whenever they see me with a copy of one of the books, I know how it turns out. I don’t know the in-between junk, but until I get to that place where you take your last human breath and face your immortality (should I have yelled “SPOILER”?), I maintain that the in-between junk is the best part.

Yours in embarassing teenage diaries,

Kim

PS… Congrats on the whole film rights thing.