NPR’s Linda Holmes reviews Twilight Breaking Dawn, Pt. 1 (via diandrabird)

I really liked the next paragraph as well:

“But romanticizing an intimate relationship that leaves bruises and scars is a particularly terrible idea in a film aimed at girls. Talking about this is tiresome, but then so is putting it in the movie. From depicting the loss of virginity as a naturally violent, frightening, physically dangerous experience to making Bella a woman with no life at all outside of her literally all-consuming pregnancy, the narrative sledgehammers are all as distasteful as they are inelegant.”

(via transmutes)

BLESS THIS POST. 

(via victorianvulgar)

Yes, this isn’t silly Rpattz hating his life, but this is an incredibly direct and accurate criticism of the Edward/Bella relationship, and I think it’s important for people to read it. 

(via robert-pattinson-hates-his-life)

—Being a child of domestic abuse, there is just a dramatic difference in “normal” for someone raised in/around abuse, and someone who wasn’t. It was obvious to the point of wanting to vomit while reading Twilight that this, in a delusional way, glorified the behavior I grew up watching in all it’s unbridled action. And it’s so sneaky… it’s so vile and twisted, the way justification for abuse creeps into your psyche when you’re young. Why would you endorse and approve of that for your daughters to be exposed to, much less idolize and pine for? I don’t know… maybe it’s me. Maybe being dragged out of bed by my hair by my mom’s boyfriend and forced to watch, holding my little sister, while he beat the shit out of her so that we learned what happened when “a bitch forgot her place,” maybe that gives me a unique perspective on the situation. 

It it painful, PAINFUL to me whenever someone tells me they enjoy these books, but I can swallow the bile and chalk it up to, “Hey, everyone has a guilty pleasure. They like Twilight, I like Jersey Housewives.” Children aren’t equipped to make that distinction though, and while I can’t go so far as to say that Stephanie Meyers is actively forwarding the cycle of abuse, packaging an apparently brutal attack that left a child bride bruised and furniture broken in the dewy-faced, soft focus romance of Twilight is just a bit shadier than what my mom’s boyfriend did. I mean, at least he didn’t dress his acts up in a lip-biting/ineptly stammering glitter fiend, he laid it out in all it’s savage glory. And in the morning, they both cried, and apologized, and swore it would never happen again, and their female punching bags forgave them.