Twilight is the Antichrist

Twilight is the Antichrist and Robin Hobb is all that stands between us and annihilation.

Have you ever been treated to one of those raves by a *cough* friend on how utterly "dreamy" Edward Cullen is, or how the Twilight "saga" has opened up their eyes to fantasy?
When I was subjected to this drivel by an associate a short while ago, it took considerable self control to stop myself from pounding the nonsense out of her head on the spot. I came to my senses when I realized that I had just cleaned the apartment and bloodstains would be hell to get out of the carpet. She just wasn't worth the Chlorox.

In any case, it is quite insulting to a fantasy afficionado such as myself to hear third-rate Mills-and-Boon-esque trash described as being depictive of the fantasy genre. By doing so, people are classing Stephanie Meyer with the likes of J. R. R. Tolkien, Terry Pratchett and Robin Hobb, when just using them as a comparison is an insult to writers of that calibre! With all due respect to Ms. Meyer (hah! let's measure that, shall we?), these are two wholly separate forms of writing, with one being light years above the other.

While I am proud to say that I have never read any of the Twilight books, I did actually sit through a few minutes of the first movie. The fifteen minutes or so before I dozed off were quite sufficient for me to realize that I would not touch the books with an acid-coated stick. (Well, I would, just to watch them dissolve, but you get the picture.) However, my personal dislike of the series is not entirely why I find statements like the one that sent me on this rant offensive.

I believe that every being on the planet that is not cerebrally challenged has the freedom to express their opinion on a given matter. I make use of this right quite often. However, to quote the immortal Pratchett, no practical definition of freedom would be complete without that upon which all the others are based: the freedom to take the consequences. Therefore, those who take the Twilight series as being representative of the fantasy genre, while doing no further research into the matter, should feel no surprise at being verbally lambasted.

From what I understand of the plot of the series (All hail Wikipedia!), the female protagonist, Bella, is merely a pathetic, whiny little wretch whose obsession with her over-controlling boyfriend verges on addiction. And this is being thought of as fine fantasy?! Excuse me while I regurgitate my dinner, mustard, peppery cheese and all.

I suppose what it all boils down to is that the trash that the majority of contributors to popular culture read is of such substandard quality that even a poor excuse for a novel looks like literature.

We need Books, as opposed to Mass-Produced Junk-Food Equivalents.

Ms. Hobb, would you mind obliging by writing yet another of your outstanding Farseer novels?