13 May2010Twilight is still terrible.

My old friend Jen Smith, a font of Scottish piss, vinegar, and startlingly insightful hilarity, has ripped Stephenie Meyer’s new novella The Short Afterlife of Bree Tanner a new arsehole, as the Scots say. If you want the no-holds-barred review of Twilight and its unholy spawn, Jen’s your girl:

I’m sure, as a sane per­son, that you’re think­ing “Why? Weren’t four enough?” Well unfor­tu­nately, friends, four is never enough, espe­cially for someone who ran out of plot at around page twenty-five but kept on going for the remain­ing one thou­sand, six hun­dred and sev­enty-five pages any­way. There can never be enough for that kind of person.

What gives me hope about Twatlight is that, in about a thousand years when current copyrights expire (unless we come to our senses sometime before then), someone will rewrite it and replace all the vampires with zombies and call it Zwilight. Assuming that cryotechnology is perfected sometime in the next 50 years, that person may be me.

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