Crossover literature

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On the topic of ‘crossover literature’, Regina Brooks explains:

4“A lot of people in the publishing industry believe that confusion about what constitutes YA it is heightened by the success of some titles known in the industry as “crossovers.” Publishing houses generate additional revenue from some books by marketing them to both adult and YA readers, thus crossing over from one audience to another. Francesca Lia Block’s cult novel, Weetzie Bat, written in 1989, is considered the original crossover, continuing to attract readers from fifteen to thirty-five. Two of the most commercially successful crossovers are Mark Haddon’s The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night-Time and Yann Martel’s Life of Pi. Both were published in 2002 and have sold over two million copies each. Those books were adult books that crossed over into the YA market, but there are others that start out as YA and then cross over to an adult audience; for example, Stephanie Meyer’s Twilight series and Cecily von Ziegesar’s Gossip Girl series. The first became a feature film and the second a popular television series.
Author of the crossover series Harry Potter, J.K. Rowling has said she had no particular age group in mind when she started writing Harry Potter and the Sorcerer’s Stone; however, she did know she was writing for children. The first Harry Potter novel was eventually published in 1998 by Scholastic, the world’s largest publisher and distributor of [-p.xiii] juvenile books. The company targeted Harry Potter to children nine to eleven. What happened, of course, made publishing history, with Rowling’s work garnering millions of fans worldwide, both older and younger, including a substantial segment of teens. Later, two separate editions of Harry Potter were released, identical in text but with the cover artwork on one edition aimed at children and the other at adults.
Rowling’s young wizard also cast magic on the YA world, changing the way the industry viewed the genre. Harry Potter‘s $29.99 selling price reminded publishers that young people were not only willing to shell out big bucks to read but that they also had the means to do so. In 2006 in the United States alone, teens had $94.7 billion a year to spend, a figure that increases about $1 billion a year, according to Jupiter Research.” (pp.xii-xiii)

Ref: Regina Brooks (2009) Writing Great Books for Young Adults. Sourcebooks, Inc.: Naperville, Illinois

Twilight is not a vampire story

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Twilight is not a vampire story per se but a romance—and a very well marketed romance at that.” (p.268)

I’m taking this statement out of context, but it struck me as such an interesting one… can you not read Twilight (and its literary fellows) in multiple genres at once…? What is ‘a vampire story’ then? I really liked Mercer’s article, but this statement kind of intrigued me.

Mercer does clarify her approach to ‘classifying’ this text, writing that “I identify Meyer’s books within the genre of teen romance fiction. Milly Williamson’s (2005) study of vampire fiction suggests, however, that the more appropriate genre for making sense of books like Twilight (her work pre-dates Meyer’s), given the existential- and self-reflective turn of contemporary vampires, may be melodrama. Williamson notes the literary appearance of what she terms the “sympathetic vampire” with whom female reader-fans identify rather than fear: “[the vampire’s] entire unwanted ontological status is his flaw, and thus his flaw is excessive and taken to the extremes appropriate to melodrama. His unwelcome vampirism is not a sign of evil, but of victimhood. . . .[F]emale fans do not identity with the vampire’s female victims, but rather, empathize with the sympathetic vampire figure itself”” (p.268)

On this note, (and in the same part of her discussion), Mercer also quotes one of the girls she interviewed (14 yrs) as saying: “I guess she [Meyer] could have written it with some other kind of creatures but having vampires makes it more focused on their bodies.” (p.268) … which is also an interesting statement on its own – and one she consequently  affirms in a more academic fashion, noting that “the character of the vampire becomes a literary device for attention to bodies, playing directly to a young female readership’s culturally encouraged (over) focus upon their own bodies.” (p.269) Still, in context of the above statement, I find this acknowledgement of the importance of the vampire to this text curiouser and curiouser.

Ref: Joyce Ann Mercer (2011)  Vampires, Desire, Girls and God: Twilight and the Spiritualities of Adolescent Girls Pastoral Psychol. 60:263–278

Vampires and spirituality in Meyer’s Twilight

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From mythic vampires’ earlier incarnations as objects of (negative) fascination amidst horror, at least some of today’s vampires appear to have morphed into creatures of positive moral character and objects of romantic love. What accounts for the current widespread appeal of vampires to teen girls in the US?” (p.264)

“The affinity between girls and vampires is not new. Large numbers of the teen viewers of the 1960’s gothic vampire television soap Dark Shadows were girls. And vampire characters long existed in fictional literature and film as coded representations of sexuality sometimes in the form of irritable male vampires such as Dracula who seduce women with their gaze; other times as a cinematically safe way to depict “illicit” lesbian relationships, as in the early film Dracula’s Daughter, or somewhat more recently in The Hunger. In earlier times when women’s desire was even more suspect than it is today, vampires were a helpful trope for getting it onto the page or screen, as it was the irresistible vampire’s fault, and not the woman’s, for being seduced. Vampires have longed served this useful purpose in legend and fiction.” (p.264)

What makes it possible to walk up to a girl in a bookstore or library and expect to start what can become a brief yet substantive conversation about Twilight? My conversations with girls happened in the context of two interesting social developments among U.S. youth. The first of these concerns the widespread acceptance within mainstream U.S. culture of interest in fantasy, paranormal encounters and the possibility of experiencing supernatural forces. Several decades of film and the recent popularity of fantasy fiction works such as J.K. Rowling’s seven novels published between 1997 and 2007 as the popular Harry Potter series (Rowling 1999a, b, 2000; Rowling and GrandPré 1998, 2003, 2005, 2007), and television programs such as Buffy the Vampire Slayer (Whedon, 1997) paved the way for interest in vampires and supernatural phenomenon to be treated as mainstream and “normal” rather than as an odd dabbling in the occult.
The second development is related: the widespread experience of increased religious pluralism in the US creates and supports an openness to (or at least tolerance of) a wider variety of religiously oriented beliefs and practices, such that interest in supernatural creatures is no longer treated as necessarily oppositional to dominant religious groups such as Christian churches. Lynn Schofield Clark’s (Clark 2003) ethnography addresses young people’s fascination with supernatural phenomenon in relation to American evangelicalism in the late twentieth century, suggesting that the popularization of supernatural characters through the media led to a general acceptance of such figures. I would contend, following Clark’s argument, that for many people supernatural figures such as vampires, witches, and ghosts, became religiously insignificant during the twentieth century.…” (p.265)

“The first reason […] that girls like vampires so much is because the advertising industry stimulates their desires for them, and then provides a way to (temporarily) satisfy those desires through consumerism.” (p.266)

A second reason girls today are so drawn to vampires and to Twilight has to do with the power of reading/viewing as a social practice. Reading popular young adult fiction is not merely an individual activity for girls even though they may engage in it principally in private settings. Rather, reading is a social practice (Cherland 1994) of which sharing the “book world” with others is an important dimension in situating the identities of readers. […] the social practice of reading/viewing Twilight situates girls in a set of activities that are “approved” for girls: fantasy and star-fandom are socially acceptable ways for young teens to experience and express their desire even as these activities function to cement the bonds between young women who share the experience.” (p.266)

“As Pierre Bourdieu (Bourdieu and Passeron 1990) notes concerning social practices, choices such as which genre of fiction one reads may appear to be “arbitrary,” but in fact these choices take place within a habitus of social practices that give them legitimacy and participate in the construction of subjectivity in ways that tend to reproduce unjust power relations between women and men. Who reads (and who does not), and the types of literature encouraged (or discouraged) for different groups within the society are not random matters, but are practices that participate in structuring the positioning of groups in relation to one another, such as women and men.” (p.267)

“Power relations are embedded in the ways society structures reading. That is, reading is not a politically neutral activity but a social practice in and through which people are differently positioned.” (p.267) “As a social practice, part of the appeal of reading Twilight comes from the ways girls use it to support and enhance their relationships with each other.” (p.267)

I think it is worth noting, having quoted her quite a bit here (I really liked her thinking!), Mercer concludes: “When I step back from it all, I find myself more than a little concerned about desire’s distortions. I worry, for example, that many young women reading books like Twilight will not have thoughtful companions who can help them distinguish between anger and care when sexual desire seems linked to both. It concerns me that young people with spiritual hungers may only be offered weak or broken cultural images, such as fictional vampire characters in teen romance fiction, around which to wrap their deep longings for communion with Divinity, when in fact what they need and seek are far more complex symbols that invite participation in their meanings. At the same time, though, I understand that girls make multiple uses of these books: some simply enjoy them as romance fiction; others read them more critically.” (p.277)

Joyce Ann Mercer (2011)  Vampires, Desire, Girls and God: Twilight and the Spiritualities of Adolescent Girls Pastoral Psychol. 60:263–278

ABSTRACT: “Fantasy fiction long has been read for its capacity to narrate religious meanings and themes for young readers. Since its publication in 2005, Stephenie Meyer’s young adult series Twilight, in which an adolescent girl falls in love with a vampire, has become a pop culture phenomenon among U.S. teen girls. Although vampires usually represent dangerous desire, rarely have these creatures been treated as spiritually attractive figures. Using feminist perspectives on the psychology of gender and Christian feminist theology, this article offers a critical exploration of Twilight’s constructions of intimate relationships, supernatural masculinities, and girlhood, arguing that Twilight’s girl-appeal stems from its ability to tap into both the sexual and spiritual desires of girls.” (p.263)

Twilight’s fandoms and critically interactive readerships

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Some really great critical material came out of the phenomenon that was ‘Stephanie Meyer’s Twilight Saga’. One of those pieces, by Rachel Hendershot Parkin (2010), looks at the way the Twilight Saga evidences a particular kind of relationship between author and reader – a particularly critical, interactive readership. Here are a couple of the points Hendershot Parkin makes:

The Twilight saga’s enormous popularity is closely tied to its author’s tense relationship with her fans. Meyer’s frequent interaction with fans via online media disrupts their expectations and leads to competing interpretations.” (p.61)

“I would suggest that, […] the more fans interact with and read the books, the more the constructed world of the texts becomes collectively defined and anticipated. When the fandom’s collective vision of the textual world is undermined, fans personally feel deceived and misled and resist the altered structure. The fandom then turns to the most accessible outlet for its frustrations—the Internet—which gives a united voice to its displeasure and a venue for its action against author and text.” (p.61)

The constant scuffling and ensuing stalemate between Meyer and the Twilight fandom encourages us to consider the Twilight saga as a model for thinking about how online media has changed horizons of expectation and equalized textual ownership. In Textual Poachers, Jenkins argues that “fans operate from a position of cultural marginality and social weakness” (26) and that, in inhabiting such a weak position, “fans are peasants, not proprietors” (27). In his more recent study, Convergence Culture, he admits that fandoms have grown into a more participatory culture, rather than remaining in a culture of isolation. While he certainly captures the essence of online fandoms with the term “participatory culture,” he still fails to recognize the real power to influence ownership that fandoms have garnered through co-operative Internet use. The Twilighters certainly do not exist as “peasants.” Full-fledged “participants,” they enact a constant tug-of-war with Stephenie Meyer for proprietorship of the Twilight saga.” (p.81)

feminist criticism and the discussions between author and fans over how to interpret the texts…

The friction between Meyer and the Twilight fandom appears most visibly in feminist responses, which are in turn complicated by a connection to the romance genre, and in disagreements over what is “canon” in the series. Online communities and conversations, then, develop a sense of ownership in fandoms by creating a more shared horizon of expectation that is centred on its fans. As Meyer shows us, the result is that, by engaging with fans, authors actually empower their fandoms in a way that tips the balance of power and the ownership of text toward the reader.” (p.62)

“In an interview with MTV, Meyer admitted to enjoying questions about Bella and feminism because they give her the opportunity to set the record straight by explaining her version, an indication of the level of control Meyer likes to retain over her creation.” (p.67)

remaining faithful to the internal canon of the series – fans’ reactions to the pregnancy and what it shows about the author-text-reader relationship

“…a large body of the fan reaction to Breaking Dawn was […] acerbic and accusatory, indicating the personal level at which the fans felt betrayed by Meyer’s alleged departure from her canon. The Twilighters’ horizon of expectation had grown so concrete and was so disturbed by the last book that they rebelled against it. […] As Bella’s pregnancy is confirmed and her attachment to the unborn child grows, the fandom’s attachment seemed to sever. Instead of leaving the fan community and the books behind to move on to more satisfying reading, however, many Twilighters continue to participate in the fandom by expressing their disappointment and by focusing on their love of the first three books in the saga.” (p.71)

An overwhelming fan consensus on Renesmee’s birth suggests that Meyer’s failure to prepare fans for the possibility of Bella’s pregnancy, coupled with her insistence that the vampire-fathered child fits into the established Twilight canon, created a sense of betrayal. Between accusations of stealing from fan fiction, physiological problem solving, and comparisons with other vampire media, Meyer emerges from the Breaking Dawn release not as a celebrated author of the final instalment of a saga with a cult-like following, but rather an author accused of unfaithfulness to her own canon—accusations, it should be pointed out, made possible and even forcible through massive online agreement in forums, blogs, reviews, and other such discussions.” (p.73)

choice, free will and Bella’s easy out – how this evidences fans unique relationship with the series…

The first three books of the Twilight series revolve around choice, namely Bella’s life-altering choices such as pursuing a relationship with Jacob or Edward, getting married, and changing into a vampire, suggesting a privileging of free will in the series’ canon.” (p.74)  “…in the first three books, autonomous choice plays an integral role in plot development and establishes itself as an important canonical feature of the Twilight saga.” (p.75)

“There is a strong feeling in the Twilight fandom that besides taking the final choices away from her [Bella], Meyer rendered her previous choices less meaningful by the happy ending to the saga, in which she gets everything and everyone she wants.” (p.75)

“Summing up these common fan responses, K. Bray writes that “Breaking Dawn betrays the story of Eclipse and makes Bella’s struggles and difficult choice almost meaningless—she doesn’t have to sacrifice anything after all.” While online discussions offer a multitude of different views on how the saga should have ended and what exactly Bella should have been forced to give up, the common thread that ties them together is the feeling that she should have given up at least something. All these reactions in their many and varied forms, from respectful to flaming and biological to comparative, show how closely fans adhere to canonical precedent and the horizon of expectation and how such adherence fuels ownership claims throughout the fandom.” (p.76)

Ref: (emphases in blue bold, mine) Rachel Hendershot Parkin (2010) ‘Breaking Faith: Disrupted Expectations and Ownership in Stephanie Meyer’s Twilight Saga Jeunesse: Young People, Texts, Cultures, Volume 2, Issue 2, Winter, pp. 61-85

Some of the critics she refers to (and which sounded interesting) include: Jenkins, Henry. Textual Poachers: Television Fans and Participatory Culture. New York: Routledge, 1992.

self-harming in literature

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Still trolling through the discussions… and haven’t finished reading this yet, so have no opinion on her thesis, but Lydia Kokkola looks at Stephanie Meyer’s Twilight series through the lens of adolescent self-harming behaviour…

She writes: “When Bella Swan’s vampire boyfriend, Edward Cullen, temporarily abandons her in an attempt to keep her safe, she discovers the euphoric delights of self-harming behavior. Characterized from the start as an exceptionally clumsy girl who cannot be trusted to walk on uneven surfaces such as in the woods or along beaches without falling over, Bella releases her depression after her break up with Edward by placing herself in risky situations: entering a bar full of leering men, driving motorbikes recklessly, and jumping off a cliff. Ostensibly, the main appeal of acts of physical self-harming is that they enable her to hear Edward’s voice inside her head. But throughout the series we see her frequently needing stitches, covering up bruises, and, even more frequently, restricting her behavior to comply with demands placed on her by the men in her life. In many ways, Bella’s behavior resembles that of real life self-harmers and battered wives.” (p.33)

“The teenager who self-harms makes a mockery of the romanticized view of childhood as a source of hope for the future.
Novels depicting depressed, suicidal, and selfloathing children and teenagers are rare in no small part because they challenge adult beliefs about the nature of childhood.” (p.34)

“The awkwardness of balancing the seemingly mutually incompatible desires of writing about self-harming and providing a narrative of hope, I shall shortly demonstrate, has resulted in a “master narrative” of self-harming that dominates writing in this area.” (p.35)

“I am suggesting that there are three assumptions that underlie writing about self-harming behavior in fiction for adolescents. Firstly, the narrative is expected to end on a note of optimism, suggesting that the self-harming individual will recover. Secondly, the audience for such works is expected to include readers who themselves engage in activities like cutting and that these readers will be seeking solace and guidance along the road to recovery. Thirdly, the texts also address readers who are unfamiliar with the concept of self-harming. For this latter group, the novels offer explanations, but discourage copycat behavior.” (p.36)

Ref: Lydia Kokkola (2011) ‘Sparkling Vampires: valorizing self-harming behaviour’ Bookbird, 3: pp.33-

“The author provides an in-depth examination of the popular Twilight series in terms of the depiction of self-harming behaviors, noting interesting parallels with theories about battered women and raising questions about how such issues are handled in novels for young people.”

Gender Norms in the Twilight Series

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Just collecting the discussions… Rebecca Hayes-Smith had the following complaint about Meyer’s Twilight series…

“Among tween girls and their moms, these books have achieved tremendous popularity. On the one hand, I understand it. The books are entertaining (I read all four in a little over a week), and the romantic vampire story is somewhat beautiful and mysterious.” (p.78)

“What nags me is how, as a sociologist, I find it difficult to ignore the underlying message of gender conformity in Meyer’s books. As a society we have multiple ways to communicate how men and women should act in order to be happy. These messages play an important role in the marginalization of women and girls, and Twilight reinforces these messages in several ways: through traditional notions of femininity and masculinity, and intersecting stereotypes of race, class, and gender. / Throughout the series, women are weak, passive, and in need of protection, while men are strong and violent.” (p.78)

“[Bella’s] insecurity is what makes her easy to identify with, but how can we change women’s (and society’s) views without challenging the romanticization of victimhood?” (p.78)

“In the real world, most female victimization occurs between intimate partners, and this theme is prevalent in Twilight. When Bella has “sex” with Edward (if that’s what you can call it), she walks away from the event literally injured…. The expression of dangerous love-making in other vampire-themed novels is likely similar, but at least in those, the vampires are considered evil.” (p.79) [I thought this last point an interesting one, the ethical  thread of which is also in the following statement….] “In the end, Edward maintains his masculinity by acting aggressively even in a situation that is supposed to be about intimacy and love. The subtle message is that as long as you’re in love or at home, violence is not objectionable.” (p.79)

“Yes, these are novels: should feminists and scholars lighten up? These books might simply be innocent entertainment, or potentially harmful to young women. Plenty of research describes how people construct their social reality depending on the cultural messages around them. This is especially important when considering the sheer volume of media images young people now constantly absorb (both actively and passively). It occurs at all ages, but is especially important among teenagers who are navigating the in-between years of not quite being an adult, yet not a kid anymore. My concern is that the most popular young adult books of the last few years are repeating stereotypes sociologists have been debunking for decades.” (p.79)

Ref: Rebecca Hayes-Smith (2011) ‘Gender Norms in the Twilight Series’ Contexts 2011 10: 78

Another take on Bella’s submissiveness in Twilight

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Interested in the way Stephanie Meyer’s Twilight series, like Harry Potter, ‘combines several kinds of appeal’, Anne Klaus and Stefanie Krüger analyse the series’ adoption of conventions from various genres and traditions; they explain: “In the Twilight saga, we find a similar amalgamation of various different literary genres – fantasy fiction for young adults, vampire story, gothic romance, and Arthurian legend. It is a medley, a generic crossing that is – not least due to its focus on an active young heroine – bound to entice a primarily female readership.” (np)

Much of what they say echoes what is being said elsewhere (comments on the Byronic hero, the sympathetic vampire, etc. – I’ll put a couple of quotes below), but I did find their take on Bella (and what others have criticised as Bella’s lack of feminist agency) interesting. I think these authors are the first I have read who see Bella’s transformation into vampire not as a  device or a plotline, so much as a logical trajectory within the YA fantasy genre and a reworking of the vampire tale. I liked their reading of her growth!

According to Klaus and Krüger:

“Bella, who, on the one hand seems to be presented as the femme fragile or damsel in distress concerning her physicality, but, on the other hand, represents a figure of identification for female readers as the independent, strong-willed hero of young adult fiction.” (np)

“Bella’s metamorphosis into a vampire illustrates not only an inward but also an outward ripening, a growing-up-process from teenager to adult that is also manifested in her final motherhood.” (np)

“…the major emphasis of fantasy fiction for children and young adults lies on the heroes’ quests. The same holds for Meyer’s saga as the relatively short battle sequence at the close of the fourth book underlines. Meyer’s main focus is not so much on the final trial of power between the two enemy parties as on her heroine’s inner test of strength in the course of her maturation from an insignificant teenager into a self-confident lover, wife and mother. Meyer casts the spotlight on her female protagonist’s internal struggles with themes like outward appearance, virginity, marriage and child rearing.” (np)

“Bella, like Catherine in Brontë’s Wuthering Heights, is, as Carol Senf points out in The Vampire in Nineteenth-Century English Literature, a new kind of female victim and female vampire, “[a]ssertive, strong, intelligent, and independent, she clearly wants to control her own life although that desire often brings her into conflict with those who wield authority within her society” (Senf 83). Against the fears of her father and the warnings of the Quileute werewolves, Bella keeps up her relationship with Edward. Her “defloration” is not an act of destruction but a consequence of her own free choice and, what is more, it takes place before she is finally turned into a vampire, which actually is a rescue and not a damnation. Bella’s delicate nature is not her ruin, as it is for so many other female characters, but a reflection of her disposition for becoming a vampire and thus ultimately for the fulfilment of her destiny. As a vampire, she clearly embodies a new trend in late 20th- and early 21st-century vampire literature: the un-dead state is not a punishment for sins committed in life but a very attractive “parallel lifestyle” (Hughes 148-9). Jancovitch argues that “the pleasure offered by the [vampire] genre is based on the process of narrative closure in which the horrifying monster is destroyed or contained” and the “original order is re-established” (qtd. in Wisker 168). Twilight does not kill the monster but elevates it to an ideal of female desire. A new order is established which clears the way for fascinating, never-ending romantic opportunities.” (np)

“Bella Swan, the average and inconspicuous girl who so far has never found her niche within society and does not relate well to people her age (Twilight 9), embodies the “new kid in school” motif commonly found not only in realistic teenage fiction but also in late 20th and early 21st century teenage high school movies such as Sara Sugerman’s Confessions of a Teenage Drama Queen (2004) or Ed Decter’s The New Guy (2002). Just as these popular movies feature the difficulty of new pupils fitting into an existing school culture, “[c]rucial establishing scenes for both fictional school stories and school memoirs deal with the departure from home and parents, the first trip to the new school, and the arrival in a scary new place” (Manners Smith 80). Although the school story is fundamentally a British phenomenon, the focus has shifted from depicting boarding schools towards state-funded day schools – most evidently observable in the huge success of Walt Disney’s blockbusters High School Musical and Hannah Montana, both of which are set in American high schools.” (np)

“Bella’s development throughout the four books is undoubtedly evocative of famous fantasy heroes, such as Harry Potter or Christopher Paolini’s Eragon. Just as M. Katherine Grimes describes Harry Potter as insignificant “Everyboy and Everyman” (Grimes 122) in the beginning, Bella seems to lack any signs of being special or chosen. Like other heroes from young adults’ fiction, however, she develops and matures in the course of the story. A significant parallel to popular stories for young adults is Bella’s choice of friends and fellows. Not only does she deviate from her human classmates by getting in touch with vampires, she also defies the vampires’ antipathies against their rivals, the Quileute werewolves, by maintaining her friendship with Jacob Black and his family. By letting Bella choose outsiders and initial foes as friends, the author reveals her protagonist’s positive virtues and makes explicit the importance of impartiality and candour.

“Stephenie Meyer creates a fairy-tale gothic romance with a vampire as the primary, very attractive, love object and an independent, active female heroine who, on the one hand, is still the fragile damsel in distress and, on the other hand, embodies the “new kid in school” motif common in young adults’ literature of the late 20th and early 21st centuries. Bella befriends supernatural creatures, is confronted with difficult choices, sacrifices her normal life, and ultimately undergoes an inward and outward ripening, a maturation most significantly seen in her final metamorphosis. Through the use of Bella’s perspective and the combination of mysterious gothic, jolts of serious menace, happy versions of teenage normality, and nostalgic romance, Meyer draws away the focus from the traditional “malicious-vampire-versus-helpless-victim” relationship towards the interiority of the active female agent and thus distances the story from the traditionally male-generated vampire myth which reduces the female character to either victim or femme fatale.” (np)

Some other quotes:

“His Byronic nature is certainly one aspect of Edward’s success among female readers of the 21st century as it combines two ideals of the modern man: sensibility and strength.” (np)

“Edward owes many of his characteristics to literary figures of the 19th century. As Meyer admitted in several interviews, it was particularly the story of Emily Brontë’s Heathcliff and his relationship to Catherine Earnshaw in Wuthering Heights, which motivated her in the construction of Edward.” (np) … “The gothic villain is commonly from the upper classes or of royal blood. Even though Heathcliff’s ancestry is unknown he still holds financial power over the Earnshaw family estate. His economic power is mirrored in the lifestyle of Edward and his family, who can afford the newest cars, live in a remarkable house, wear designer outfits, and never have to worry about money. The Cullens financially certainly belong to the upper class among the vampire families and thus transfer the common class affiliation of the vampire into 21st-century classless America.” (np)

“Edward as vampire is highly fascinating particularly because the focus of the story is not concerned with Edward being a vampire but with Edward being a romantic who happens to be a vampire. Twilight is dominated by a male protagonist whose emotional state dictates his actions which primarily culminate in wooing and protecting Bella. This primary chivalric concern is derived from another genre, which Stephenie Meyer combined with her re-created vampire myth and which is particularly aimed at female readers [Arthurian Romance].” (np)

Despite the lovers being presented as meant for each other, the “knight’s difficult choice between eros and other allegiances” (Fuchs 45), which according to Barbara Fuchs can be found in classic Romance literature, is mirrored in Edward’s endangering his family’s secret by falling in love with Bella. As he points out, he is “breaking all the rules” (Twilight 174). His attempt to part with Bella in New Moon is evocative of the main narrative strategy of romance novels: the postponement of the union between the lovers (Fuchs 125 f.).  However, “the pull of romance towards concluding happiness” (Cooper 81) dominates in Meyer’s saga, which privileges destined love over all worldly problems.” (np)

Ref: Anne Klaus and Stefanie Krüger (2011) Vampires Without Fangs: The Amalgamation of Genre in Stephenie Meyer’s Twilight Saga The Looking Glass : New Perspectives on Children’s Literature, Vol 15, No 1

Teen girls and genre in the critical reception of Twilight – Bode

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I really enjoyed Lisa Bode’s critical analysis of reviews of the film Twilight – and how constructions of female adolescence are drawn on by film reviewers to patrol the (gendered) boundaries of genre. Great article! …some quotes:

“The critical reception of Twilight (2008), Catherine Hardwicke’s film adaptation of Stephenie Meyer’s first teen vampire romance novel, though, repeatedly mobilizes an idea of its audience that is not just female but adolescent. This is hardly surprising as the Twilight novels were marketed in the young adult sections of bookshops, and the film features a dangerous romance between an ordinary 17-year-old girl, Bella, and a 108-year-old teen vampire, Edward. However, what is interesting in film reviews for Twilight is how [-p.708] often a (mainly) female adolescent audience, and associated mode of viewing, is evoked, and how this is variously used to denigrate or legitimate the film and its pleasures. The lowly cultural status of the teen girl audience has been examined before in Melanie Nash and Martti Lahti’s work on Leonardo DiCaprio’s disavowal of his teen idol identity (Nash and Lahti 1999, 72) in the wake of his role in Titanic (James Cameron 1997). However, Twilight’s critical reception provides us with the opportunity to see some of the variations in how differently situated film reviewers define and deploy the teen girl. [/] For some reviewers, the teen girl audience taints the film, and the film taints the girl, and both are to be reviled. But for others, the film, and the adolescent girl who is imagined to be captivated by it, become objects of a somewhat romantic fascination. This article asks: what can the adolescent girl, her different connotations, and the ways reviewers position themselves in relation to this figure, reveal about Twilight’s cultural resonance, and the ongoing dynamics of distinction in the contemporary cultural field more broadly?” (pp.707-708)

“Film critics perform an important role in pre-shaping audience reception (Barker 2004). In the words of Pierre Bourdieu they often influence ideas of ‘what is worthy of being seen’, what is unworthy, and ‘the right way to see it’ (Bourdieu 1984, 28).” (p.708)

“Film reviews […] are useful to analyse not only for what they foreground of the struggles over cultural meaning but also for what they [-p.709] reveal of the dynamics of power in classification of films and their audiences, and the ways in which such things as gender, age and class are linked in this process of classification.” (pp.708-709)

“…when reading the reviews it is often difficult to separate the evaluation of Twilight from the reviewer’s disposition towards the teen girl audience. For instance, in the negative reviews is Twilight a ‘bad’ film because it is supposedly made for teen girls, or are teen girls deficient because they like Twilight and reveal their intense engagement with the film and, notably, its display of young male beauty, through gasps and shrieks?” (p.709)

“While all the reviews examined describe Twilight’s audience as ‘teen’, ‘tween’ or ‘adolescent’, the more negative the review, the more derisive is the language used to describe the audience, and maintain distance between the taste of the reviewer and that of the audience. Repeatedly, adolescent females are maligned for their lack of cultural capital, described as ‘indiscriminate’ (Ochieng 2008) or said to have ‘insipid’ (Burns 2008), ‘banal’ (Brayton 2008) or ‘less discriminating palates’ (Chang 2008). Dehumanized and de-individualized as the film’s ‘designated demographic’ (Ochieng 2008) and described in animalistic terms as ‘swarming’ (Puig 2009) and ‘mallrat masses’ (Ochieng 2008), they are presented as easily targeted and manipulated by a cynical market-driven mass culture. Accordingly, Twilight is seen as a crass commercial ‘product’ (Hanke 2008), a ‘cash machine’ (Vasquez 2008) designed to feed the gaping maw of this indiscriminate swarming squealing mass, and part them from their money.” (p.710)

“…reviewers use the girl as a means to leverage their own cultural superiority: their individualized and aesthetically informed responses to the film; their detached, rational and critical disposition; and importantly, too, their knowledge of vampire and horror film genres that enables them to distinguish between greater and lesser examples.” (p.710) … “For instance, horror film aficionado Felix Vasquez Jr complains bitterly that Twilight’s trailers promised ‘vampire action’ to ‘non-fans’, but failed to deliver, being hybridized or rather, polluted, by the teen and romance genres. He curls his lip at the way female authors such as Anne Rice have popularized the ‘emo’ vampire who struggles with his or her monstrosity instead of gleefully predating, and reveals that by his definition a ‘good’ vampire film should foreground blood lust, gore and ‘action’ rather than moping introspection (Vasquez 2008). Vasquez’s particular definition of the vampire genre, as a subgenre of horror, appears to exemplify the way some horror fans use their ability to ‘stomach’ onscreen blood, viscera, gore, and transgression as a marker of a rather masculinist distinction, or what Hollows calls ‘the ritual test of masculine hardness’ (Hollows 2003, 44). Clearly, Twilight, Anne Rice and the ‘emo’ vampire provide little opportunity for viewers to test themselves in this way. However, by positioning these films generically, Vasquez and others work to patrol the boundaries of their idea of what the vampire genre should be, and determine who it is for (and not).” (p.710)

In contrast to the way that the audience is portrayed in the negative reviews as swarming indiscriminate mallrats, positive reviews have an empathetic or affectionate regard for Twilight’s perceived or imagined audience, and for female adolescents and adolescence in general. While the positive reviewers still mostly identify themselves as ‘not the film’s target’, these writers strive to reconnect with their own adolescent yearnings (either as romanticizing or wryly commenting on their younger selves) or produce a reading of adolescent imagination as a complex and liminal state, on the cusp of cultural and sexual knowledge. This attempt to see the film in relation to a teen girl perspective is in part predicated on the way the positive reviewers tend to frame Twilight generically as a teen romance film, rather than as a vampire film. Evaluating it as a teen romance produces a very different set of cultural and cinematic reference points, and it means that if there is evidence of an affective link between teen girls in the audience and the teens represented on the screen then it testifies to the film’s success. For instance, Sukhdev Sandhu, writing for the Daily Telegraph (UK), refers to the vocal responses of girls in his screening as evidence that the film has succeeded in conveying an ‘emotional truth’ that connects with its audience (2008). [/] While this type of assessment casts the teen viewer in a more favourable light, it is nevertheless the case that neither in the positive nor in the negative reviews is the adolescent girl mode of engagement imagined as rational, mindful or critical. If negative reviewers see the female adolescent as uncritical and easily enthralled, the positive or more ambivalent reviewers describe her as ‘estrogenic’ (M. O’Sullivan 2008) or ‘hormonal’ (Knight 2008). Such labels do not in this case necessarily mark the teen girl viewer as ‘more easily seduced’, but rather as one who experiences a natural, complex and mysterious state, that makers of teen films rarely manage to connect with or capture.” (p.713)

“In the reviews of Twilight I have surveyed, the affective contagion of the teen or preteen girl audience is much more usually disavowed or resisted. Even positive reviewers of the film appear to need to bring in references to legitimate culture, such as the nineteenth century romance novel, not just as a means of elevating Twilight but invoked as a kind of talisman against a teen girl pop contamination of their adult critic identity. How does this reconcile with the fact that grown men and women happily confess to enjoying Transformers (Michael Bay 2007) or The Dark Knight (Christopher Nolan 2008), and that so many reviewers of Transformers in particular tap into a 13-year-old boy viewing mode? For instance Ebert, who as we saw above was keen to delimit Twilight’s audience, but in his review of Transformers, however, he self-consciously slips out of his stuffy adult critic persona with lines like: ‘it’s goofy fun with a lot of stuff that blows up real good’ (Ebert 2007). Ebert willingly submits to an uncomplicated joy in dumb kinetic violence and spectacular explosions, and revels in the hoots and cheers of the audience with which he shared the screening. Perhaps, then, more so than age, it is gender that functions here as a key factor in the relative status of taste formations....” (italics in original, p.716)

“This article has examined some of the different ways in which film critics, in their reviews of Twilight, construct the film’s teen girl audience and, in relation to this figure, reaffirm both their own taste formations and their cultural values. Although film reviewers are often reporting upon the vocal behaviour of actual girls attending their screening, these writers use the adolescent girl as an imagined ‘other’. Thus, references in reviews to girls as a dehumanized swarming mass or as the giggling bearers of complex longing, reveal more about the cultural values and social position of the film reviewer than that of actual adolescent girls. Moreover, childhood and teenhood (unlike other social categories such as race, ethnicity or gender) are thought to be temporary states, transitional phases that are passed through on the way to an adult identity imagined as ‘fixed’. Because of the teen girl’s temporary occupation of her identity, and the sense that she is not yet properly initiated into systems of culture, and not yet fully sexual, reviewers appear to denigrate or sentimentalize her without guilt. Where does this leave the adult audience and fandom, those of us old enough to ‘know better’ and yet confess to drawing pleasure from Twilight?” (p.717)

Ref: (my emphases in blue bold) Lisa Bode (2010): Transitional tastes: Teen girls and genre in the critical reception of Twilight, Continuum: Journal of Media & Cultural Studies, 24:5, 707-719

Abstract: “Reviews of Twilight (2008), Catherine Hardwicke’s enormously popular screen adaptation of Stephenie Meyer’s teen vampire romance novel, reveal a focus on both the gender and age of the film’s audience. The teen, tween or adolescent girl, her tastes and affective response, are evoked in different ways by many reviewers to denigrate the film. However, the adolescent girl is also used in positive reviews to legitimate Twilight and its pleasures. This article asks: what can the adolescent girl, her different connotations, and the ways reviewers position themselves in relation to this figure, reveal about Twilight’s cultural resonance, and the ongoing dynamics of distinction in the contemporary cultural field more broadly?” (p.707)

Monster metaphor and film

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Harry Benshoff notes: “Since the 1970s, the genres of horror, fantasy, and science fiction (and often hybrid combinations of two or more of them) have become driving forces in contemporary media culture. Whereas once these genres were ghettoized as B movie fodder for immature adults and precocious children, today they are central to the very formula of mainstream blockbuster franchising. Their fantastic spaces invite audiences into imaginative worlds and allow for the metaphoric exploration of actual human differences, even as that trend potentially reclosets human differences behind monstrous signifiers. For example, it has been noted that Peter Jackson’s Middle Earth in his Lord of the Rings trilogy (2001–3) contains no black characters— only black-coded monsters. Avatar (2009) uses the color blue to signify its racial Others, barely disguising the fact that they are meant to suggest Native Americans caught up in the white Western world’s genocidal imperialism. Similarly, gay people [-p.103] in the Harry Potter universe are mostly metaphorized as bachelor wizards or werewolf schoolteachers. (The uproar that author J. K. Rowling created by “outing” the wizard Dumbledore demonstrates that many audiences actively seek to deny such readings.) It seems that contemporary Hollywood prefers metaphoric antagonists to real-life ones, since monsters and wizards (unlike real-life minorities) do not have antidefamation leagues. Thus a science fiction western like Serenity (2005) can feature stereotypical bloodthirsty Indians, as long as they are refigured as cannibalistic monsters from outer space called “Reavers.”” (pp.102-103)

“Far from being meaningless fluff, fantasy franchises like Dark ShadowsHarry Potter, Twilight, and The Lord of the Rings penetrate deep into Western cultures and continue to contribute to the ongoing hegemonic negotiation of real-world issues and ideologies.” (p.103)

Ref: (italics in original) Benshoff, Harry M. (2011) Dark Shadows. Wayne State University Press [http://muse.jhu.edu/books/9780814336328]

Melodrama in young adult fiction – a discussion based on Twilight

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Katie Kapurch presents an argument for analysing adolescent literature with an eye for melodramatic conventions (and in an historical framework based on the genre of melodrama). She uses Twilight and Jane Eyre as test cases and it is an interesting argument and worth consideration. Citing fan responses to Twilight, she asserts:

“…melodramatic conventions, particularly occasions of exaggerated suffering prior to a joyful reunion, speak to contemporary readers….” (p.164)

“Intriguingly, Twilight fan responses are comparable to reader sympathy with another pair of fictional lovers: first-person narrator Jane Eyre and the secretive, brooding Edward Rochester, who, like Edward Cullen, also happens to be ridden with guilt and in need of salvation only the heroine can supply. Sandra M. Gilbert offers a central insight into the appeal of Charlotte Brontë’s Jane Eyre (1847), explaining how the novel challenged Victorian literary norms in part through the intensity of characters’ expressive discourse, another tenet of melodrama:
Unlike most of her predecessors, too, [Brontë] endowed her main characters— hero as well as heroine—with overwhelmingly powerful passions that aren’t always rational and often can’t be articulated in ordinary language. This sense of unspeakable depth or fiery interiority imbues both Rochester and Jane with a kind of mystery that has always been charismatic to readers. (357)” (italics added to indicate Gilbert quote, Kapurch, p.165)

“While the Twilight and Jane Eyre readerships are not identical and cannot be regarded as one homogenous group, awareness of their sympathetic and empathetic reactions permits us to consider both texts through the framework of melodrama. As works characterized not only by similar heroines, heroes, and romantic plots, Brontë’s and Meyer’s novels share a melodramatic reader response. An exploration of melodrama’s significance in these female coming-of-age stories, then, yields insight into the important relationship between Jane Eyre and the Twilight Saga––while offering some justification for the latter’s appeal––and ultimately works to invigorate scholarly appreciation for melodramatic impulses in contemporary young adult fiction.” (p.165)

“…there exists an absence of scholarly treatment of melodrama in texts about and for youth—particularly adolescent literature—in spite of its profound visibility today. Nevertheless, recognizing and naming the formal characteristics of melodrama, without fear of its historically pejorative connotations, offers critics addressing young adult literature a tool for advancing interpretations of political, social, and cultural messages ascertainable only through that mode. In the 1995 preface to his important and continuously cited study of melodrama, The Melodramatic Imagination (1976), Peter Brooks articulates the capabilities of melodrama: “the melodramatic mode no longer needs to be approached in the mode of apology. We know about its limitations, its easier effects, and its more inauthentic thrills, but we have also learned that it is an exceptionally supple and adaptable mode that can do things other genres and modes can’t” (xii). While the poignant validation of life’s trivialities has always been part of the appeal of melodrama on both page and stage (Brooks; Booth), these are the very moments to which many modern readers, especially female youth, are still drawn, but for which they often are still derided by critics. Accordingly, appreciating melodramatic moments in young adult fiction might help to further a regard for affective responses cited by readers, validating the seriousness of coming-of-age experiences.
Theorizing the melodramatic impulse in young adult literature, then, not only offers scholarship another lens through which to view texts but also works toward the project of recognizing the emotional lives and cultural preferences of youth.” (p.166)

Jane’s and Bella’s insecurities speak to a perceived otherness that parallels the overt monstrosity of their love interests. These counterpoints not only explain the heroines’ sympathy for and points of connection with these men, but may also explain why the texts hold such appeal for readers who sympathize with these characters.” (p.168)

The plots of both texts adhere structurally to conventions of melodrama, particularly as they articulate dreams and suffering. According to Brooks, who addresses melodrama’s connection to the bildungsroman and romance, “In the typical case, . . . melodramatic structure moves from presentation of virtue-as-innocence to the introduction of menace or obstacle, which places virtue in a [-p.169] situation of extreme peril” (31).” (Kapurch, pp.168-169)

While villainy functions as a kind of “motor” for the plot (Brooks 34), the melodrama’s conclusion typically ends not only in resolution, but more importantly, with an ending that audiences would also perceive as a “happy” one (Booth 9). As Brooks concludes, the melodramatic narrative “ends with public recognition of where virtue and evil reside, and the eradication of one as the reward of the other” (32).” (p.170)

“…within the context of each novel’s framework, the heroine’s choices are consistent with melodramatic morality, [-p.174] in which right and wrong are clearly delineated as recognizable options. This insight has important implications not only for interpreting Bella’s agency in the context of seemingly antifeminist values, but also for understanding other contemporary young adult works in which extreme choices are contextualized in outwardly limited frameworks.” (pp.173-174)

“Not surprisingly, as Jane and Bella are both characters consumed with habitual self-doubt and self-consciousness, their anxieties are also reflected in melodramatic terms through dreams, specifically nightmares. Melodrama is “preoccupied with nightmare states, with claustration and thwarted escape, with innocence buried alive and unable to voice its claim to recognition” (Brooks 20). Thus, in many ways, the nightmare as melodramatic moment validates and elucidates truth; dream states reflect sincere human experiences.” (p.174)

“Booth asserts that “One of the rules is that the hero and heroine must suffer distress, persecution, and separation, and that their suffering must continue unabated till a few moments before the final curtain, when they emerge happy and united” (10).” (p.176)

Once cataloged, the suffering experienced by Jane and Rochester and Edward and Bella prior to their happy reunions might be described as excessive. Yet just as suffering is necessary for the happy resolution offered by the melodrama, so, too, is excess, which Brooks relates to the meaningful way in which melodrama speaks to the ordinary and the contemporary: “those melodramas that matter most to us convince us that the dramaturgy of excess and overstatement corresponds to and evokes confrontations and choices that are of heightened importance, because in them we put our lives—however trivial and constricted—on the line” (ix). Thus, the extensive and excessive suffering endured prior to the couples’ respective final reunions not only serves to place their subsequent happiness in perspective, but also functions as a major point of appeal for popular audiences of melodrama.” (p.178)

“Referring to nineteenth-century audiences, Booth justifies melodrama’s attractiveness: “The popularity of melodrama is not difficult to understand. Presenting its public with a world of fulfilled dreams in contrast to a miserable monotonous reality in which virtue did not necessarily prosper, nor villainy suffer, melodrama nullified distress and danger by directing them to the ultimate happy ending” (40). Perhaps the same could be said for today’s readers of the Twilight Saga and other contemporary young adult literary works marked by melodramatic impulses; melodramatic conventions, such as a plot driven by villainy in order to ultimately delineate good and evil, and narrative devices like expression, dreams, and suffering, are perhaps predictable, yet comforting. What are the ideological implications of such reliable melodramatic impulses in addition to the legacy of Victorian novels in contemporary young adult fiction? My analysis, which sets out the formal characteristics of melodrama through a comparison of Brontë’s and Meyer’s novels in order to invigorate interest in the scholarly recognition of melodrama in adolescent literature, only scratches the surface of this important question.” (p.178)

“An understanding of melodrama’s appeal could thus be more completely achieved through a reception study focusing on readers’ responses to the Twilight Saga. In addition, researchers could pursue the legacy of Victorian fiction in young adult texts today and explore the function of melodramatic structures in contemporary novels––especially paranormal romances trailing in the wake of the trend Meyer helped inaugurate.” (p.179)

“…although an adult-oriented culture is often quick to trivialize adolescent suffering (in the context, for example, of a teen relationship’s break-up) or angst (especially anxiety about change and growing up), melodrama as a genre confirms the sincere, human feelings that seemingly ordinary circumstances can elicit. For this reason, serious attention should be given to melodramatic moments in young adult literature, for the mode can better explain characters’ experiences and popular works’ connections to canonical literature. Such considerations also give credence to representation of adolescents in fiction and the very real, affective, and empathetic responses shared by readers.” (p.179)

Ref: (emphases in bold blue, mine) Katie Kapurch “Unconditionally and Irrevocably”: Theorizing the Melodramatic Impulse in Young Adult Literature through the Twilight Saga and Jane Eyre. Children’s Literature Association Quarterly, Volume 37, Number 2, Summer 2012, pp. 164-187

reference is to: Brooks, Peter. The Melodramatic Imagination: Balzac, Henry James, and the Mode of Excess. 1976. New Haven, CT: Yale UP, 1995.