Browse by Author
by Stephenie Meyer
- » Buy New for
The plainspoken pulse of The Hunger Games series doesn't beg you to stop and savor the language. But I’m not reading Mockingjay for those reasons. I’m reading to find out whether the Capitol mutations bred deliberately to hunt Katniss are going to tear her to pieces before she manages to kill President Snow.
Recently it struck me that the list of books I’ve started and not finished has grown quite formidable. I ask myself what this “means,” if it reflects some kind of moral devolution.
In order to enjoy the Twilight novels, you have to be willing to enter into an intense emotional and hormonal fundamentalism, the twin of the moral fundamentalism apparent in Meyer's refusal of nuance and ambivalence in favor of an either/or approach to good and evil.
The vampire of our cultural moment has become a "vegetarian" of sorts, a Whole Foods shopper--an individual who prefers humanely raised, sustainably farmed food. From the shimmering pâleur of the vampire radiates something new and hardly otherworldly: an aura of white liberal guilt. But maybe it's only skin deep?
What if I couldn't judge a book by a yoga mat? Would I find better matches, or perhaps more accurate ones?
Late on a late December Friday, I decided to try something different: I headed to a mall-bound Borders and asked 37 customers about their relationship to books.
These two publishing phenomena, one situated at each end of the history of the novel, are--by a certain cynical reading--the same book, the same archetypal female fantasy. And they are not love stories: they are stories about class.