Well, I finally read Twilight.How can one go into such a book without preconceived notions? I had those in spades before reading Stephenie Meyer's infamous, and infamously selling, teen romance novel. I'd heard it was Mormon. I'd heard it was poorly written, with little plot or action until the novel's rushed-feeling final third. I'd heard it was anti-feminist. I'd heard that Bella Swan, the main character, was vapid and irritating.All that proved to be more-or-less true. But I was surprised to find that there were some things that I hadn't heard about Twilight, features that proved to be largely positive. Namely, Meyer does setting, and setting description, exquisitely well. I read on her website that the novel was initially titled Forks; I can see why: the fictionalized-but-existant town makes for a lush and immerssive setting. Gray and green and very, very wet, Forks is a vivid backdrop to our narrator Bella's depression, which lasts through the bulk of the novel. Meyer's greatest strengths lie here, as well as in the parallel descriptions of Bella's drab home and school life. It was in the early pages of Twilight--in their utter sadness and the stark truths they revealed about the lonely lives of many high school girls--that I found myself the most engaged. Though even in these early pages, vampire Edward was often unlikeable (he is, variously, sneering, patronizing, haughty, and a little smarmy), one could almost understand how Bella, a very sad girl leading a very lonely life, would turn to a dangerous-seeming, but still pretty, boy, rather than her more welcoming peers, for affection.Unfortunately, for all the dark promise of both the setting and the male romantic lead, the novel falls flat when Bella and Edward begin their relationship in earnest. Edward's danger proves impotent; we know (and not just thanks to spoilers) that he's never going to pose a real risk to Bella, and the chapters about his sparkling were even sillier than I'd imagined. Bella and Meyer wax some of the most purple prose I've ever read, and much of the subtle strengths evident earlier in the novel vanish completely. And then the vampires play baseball, and the novel takes an excruciatingly cheesy turn. Beginning with the America's-pastime passage, and proceeding through the novel's, yes, rushed final arc and goofy conclusion (the prom? really?) I couldn't help but wonder, several times, why I was reading this. There's a very uncomfortable juxtaposition here between Meyer's hope for a wholesome relationship between Bella and Edward and everything we'd learned about their characters up until then. Perhaps this is true to the desires of her young readers: rarely do even the saddest teenagers want their mates to be truly dangerous. But these toothless and bland vampires make for some toothless and bland reading, much less romance. Meyer would have done better if she'd kept Twilight dark--and kept the Cullens out of the outfield. ( )