A Rant on the Modern "Hero" and the Women Writers who Create Them

I’m recycling a blog post I wrote in 2011 because I’m reading A Discovery of Witches, by Deborah Harkness and it’s conjuring up some old, long ago feelings. But before I repeat myself, can I just ask—WHAT IS IT WITH THE WOMEN OF THE 21^st CENTURY THAT ATTRACTS THEM TO GUYS LIKE MATTHEW CLAIRMONT (obsessive, possessive and controlling) CHRISTIAN GREY (I admit it, I’m one of the few females on the planet that didn’t read 50 Shades of Grey but according to the back blurb, “Grey is a man tormented by demons and consumed by the need to control”) and EDWARD CULLEN?

Is no one charmed by witty, intelligent, thoughtful men? Men who are loving, considerate, and supportive? Men who get that you have a life, hopes and dreams, and that you are not merely an accessory or toy to decorate their life?

Seriously, girls, someone explain this to me. Why are we breaking into sweats over controlling, possessive ego-maniacs? When Diana the witch (A Discovery of Witches) discovers that her life is in danger, why does she hide out in Matthew’s chateau in a room where anyone who means her harm will have to go through Matthew? I’m currently at the chateau and it seems to me that all Diana is doing is taking long naps and drinking a lot of wine. I hope she’ll pluck up some nerve and start brushing up on her witchcraft so she can protect herself, because if she doesn’t, I won’t be finishing this book. I get that she blames witchcraft for her parent’s deaths, but once she feels so seriously threatened that she’s forced into hiding, wouldn’t any self-respecting witch devote herself to the tricks of her inherited trade? At this point, I’m so mad at her weanie-ness, and so disgusted by Matthew’s twisted possessiveness, all I can say is…well, pretty much the same thing I said three years ago.

Here it is:

The Breaking Dawn Premier and What I Learned about Boys from Carly Simon, November, 2011 kristystories.blogspot.com

I’m sure that anyone not living beneath rock knows that last night was the midnight premier of Breaking Dawn (part one.) My brilliant, straight A, academic pentathlon competitor daughter is (seriously) the president of Tesoro High School’s Twilight Club. Yesterday she and her band of Twi-hards wrapped themselves up in blankets and were the first in line for the show.

I’ve no doubt that when Rob Pat showed his glistening face on the big screen that she and her friends screamed. Maybe they even swooned when the werewolves took off their shirts. Today my brilliant daughter went to school proudly wearing her Twilight t-shirt. I hope she screamed, I hoped she swooned, I’m happy she has a vampire shirt, but—when it comes to real boys, real flesh and blood boys, I hope she’ll listen to the best boy advice I ever heard. It came from Carly Simon.

I personally don’t know the love life status of Ms. Simon. I hope she’s happy. I know that she divorced James Taylor years ago. It’s interesting to me that a romance writer I admire who has written more than 36 New York Times Bestsellers is in her sixties has had two very brief marriages that both ended in divorce. Writing and singing romance is very different from living romance. Here’s Ms. Simon’s advice. It’s from a song Titled Boys in the Trees

I’m home again in my old narrow bed

Where I grew tall and my feet hung over the edge

The low beam room with the window looking out

On the soft summer garden where the boys grew in the trees.

Here I grew guilty

And no one was at fault

Frightened by the power of every innocent thought

And the silent understanding passing down

From daughter to daughter

Let the boys grow in the trees.

Do you go to them or do you let them come to you

Do you stand in back afraid that you’ll intrude

Deny yourself and hope someone will see

And live like a flower

While the boys grew in the trees.

So, to my daughter and to all the daughters—it’s okay to scream and swoon at characters in books and on movie screens, but when it comes to real boys, real flesh and blood boys—let them grow in the trees while you do what you need to do to be your very best self. Take the hardest math classes. Practice your guts out and audition for the very best choirs. Swim as hard and as fast as you can so that you can wear the medal at the meets. Rehearse the monologues that will make the audience cheer. Write the essays that will bring tears to reader’s eyes. And let the boys grow in the trees.

While you are your path, going where you want to go, trying to become as brilliant and talented as you possibly can be, eventually, you will meet others on the same path who share your goals. If you’re lucky, you’ll find someone to hold your hand as you walk that path.

That person won’t be hanging out in your bedroom after you’ve fallen asleep--he’ll be too busy with the very hardest math classes, swimming or singing and such. His disappearance won’t drive you to suicidal activities like cliff jumping into the waters of Washington’s Coast--he’ll be too sensitive to your feelings and goals to ever want to cause you that sort of pain. (Honestly, has Mrs. Meyers ever been swimming in the Pacific in the Northwest? It is darn cold.) He won’t pick you up and carry you away from danger—you have to do that by yourself and for yourself.

Oh, how I hope you will.

A Thank You Note to Stephenie Meyers

 My twin daughters are leaving for college in a few weeks. Among their piles of items to be packed and things to be left behind are several copies of Stephenie Meyer’s Twilight books. We have several copies because, just like the Harry Potter books, no one was willing to wait for a sibling/parent to read the book, so we—Natalie, Miranda and Nathan (sorry son, I’m ratting you out. I know your manhood can withstand this) and I— all had to buy our own copies.

In the past few weeks I’ve seen snippets of Stephenie Meyer blurbs on the internet. Seems she’s producing the movie version of Shannon Hale’s Austenland (loved that book, can’t wait for the movie.) According the sound bites, Ms. Meyer is “so over” the Twilight series, but before she closes the book, I want to say thank you.

I’m one person out of the millions who read her books (all of them)but I thought I would share some of my Twilight memories. Probably my favorite is the night I sat on Aunt Becca’s deck, my daughters on either side of me. We were in Washington, the stars are brighter there because it’s not as populated as our home in Orange County, California, and we talked about vampires and werewolves that may or may not have been hiding the woods behind Aunt Becca’s house. I also remember a Twilight themed book club meeting, a gathering of girls from age 12 to 80, laughing until we cried. Shortly after the first movie came out, a 60 year old friend called me. “I’ve seen it 7 times. I’m beginning to think I maybe obsessed.” Another friend told me that in the midst of her failing marriage, Twilight became her safe place. She would sometimes just go out and sit in her car because she had nowhere else to go and read.

I didn’t love the movies, but I LOVED watching them with my daughters and my friends. When the second movie came out a woman I don’t know sat down in the theater next to my 40-something friend (a relief society president and mother of four.) The woman said to my friend, “I thought I would sit here because I can’t stand it when all the girls scream whenever Jacob or Edward takes off their shirts.” (Big clue here—this couldn’t have been the first time this woman had seen the movie.)My friend looked her in the face and said, “You should move then, because I intend to scream.” “You can’t be serious,” the woman replied. “Oh, I’m very serious. I’m looking forward to screaming,” my friend said.

El Ateneo in Buenos Aires, Argentina--the most fabulous bookstore I've ever seen.

A few years later I was in a Buenos Aires book store and I spotted a life size cardboard likeness of Edward. I actually got tears in my eyes thinking of how far and what an impact, Ms. Meyers has had on the world. She really accomplished what Lord Byron meant when he said, “But words are things, and a small drop of ink, falling like dew, upon a thought, produces that which makes thousands, perhaps millions, think.”

Does the world need to think about vampires and werewolves? Maybe, maybe not. I can’t speak for the world, but for me—I’m so glad I had a chance to sit under the stars with my girls and talk about boyfriends, both the good and the bad, I liked laughing until I cried in a room full of girls, some young and some old, I’m grateful my friend had a safe place to escape to—even if it was only to her car, and I loved screaming in a movie theater filled almost entirely with my gender.

So, Ms. Meyers, before my daughters put their copies in their respective boxes and carry them away to attic storage, thank you for the Twilight memories. Thank you for all the laughter, tears and screaming. Thank you for sharing your stories. 

Disclaimer. Given the choice, I would rather have my girls grow up to be Buffy the Vampire Slayer than Bella. Do I want some kid climbing in my daughter's window at night? No. Don't even try it. I will kill you. Did I love the way the series ended? Yes and no. No because I was disappointed. Yes, because I thought I knew how it would end, so now I'm writing my own series (sorry, no vampires, no werewolves) on how I thought the series would have/should have ended. Again--thank you, Ms. Meyers. You have inspired me.