On a whim, while looking for some uncharacteristic-for-me very light reading for the plane, I picked up a copy of Charlaine Harris’s Dead Until Dark, the first book in a non-gothic, non-Twilight vampire novel that’s the basis for the TV show True Blood. (I haven’t seen the show but two people in the airport bookstore said it’s not as good as the books.)
I haven’t read the Twilight series but I’ve read more than enough reviews to have a good idea what it’s about. And to suspect I wouldn’t care much for it. Harris’s book, on the other hand, while following almost the same template reads almost the opposite of what Twilight sounds like.
I don’t know if the author intends any of this but…
All that said she remains a part of her culture instead of particularly questioning it, being “too good” for it, or otherwise being angsty or alienated.
All that plus southern (north Louisiana) culture, murder mystery, family drama, and of course romance, danger and lust made it pretty delightful light summer or long-flight reading.
I’ve already read the second book (I stayed home with my son who’s come down what I rather pointedly hope is just a cold) and while I wasn’t as enamored of it I’ll read the next to see if I want to read the rest. But the first one was pretty good.
Yep, Twilight sucks butt and Charlaine Harris’s series is tons of fun. Whatever you do, don’t watch TrueBlood on HBO—all the things you listed that are great about the books, plus a few more, get completely annihilated in the series, to be replaced with a mixture of high-school romanticism and pointless titillation.
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