“Holy crow! It’s been like this all day. The battle is finally over. My coven is all dead. Phew! Time to jump out of hiding and take them all on myself! No wait, that doesn’t really make sense… Does it?”

Was Diego actually at the clearing for the final battle in The Short Second Life of Bree Tanner?

The question arises because of this passage, which offers two possibilities:

…I realized now that I’d been hearing the description of Diego’s death.

That night, I’d been sure that something had changed in Riley. Killing Diego was what had changed Riley, had hardened him. I believed only one thing that Riley had ever told me: he had valued Diego more than any of the rest of us. Had even been fond of him. And yet he’d watched our creator hurt him. No doubt he’d helped her. Killed Diego with her.

I wondered how much pain it would have taken to make me betray Diego. I imagined it would have taken quite a lot. And I was sure it had taken at least that much to make Diego betray me.

I felt sick. I wanted the image of Diego screaming in agony out of my head, but it wouldn’t leave.

And then there was screaming there in the field.

My eyelids fluttered, but Jasper snarled furiously and I clenched them together at once. I’d seen nothing but heavy lavender smoke.

I heard shouting and a strange, savage howling. It was loud, and there was a lot of it. I couldn’t imagine how a face would have to contort to create such a noise, and the not knowing made the sound more frightening. These yellow-eyed vampires were so different from the rest of us. Or different from me, I guess, since I was the only one left. Riley and our creator were long gone by now.

I heard names called, Jacob, Leah, Sam. There were lots of distinct voices, though the howls continued. Of course Riley had lied to us about the number of vampires here, too.

The sound of the howling tapered off until it was just one voice, one agonized, inhuman yowling that made me grit my teeth. I could see Diego’s face so clearly in my mind, and the sound was like him screaming.

So there are two possibilities that we are aware of, highlighted by Bree:

Possibility 1. Diego was there at the clearing: This theory is supported by the last straggler vampire’s death, and the question of why a vampire would allow himself to be discovered after the battle is already lost? Why not just stay hiding? Further, perhaps that is why the screaming sounded so much like Diego — it was him — but Bree was prevented from seeing him for herself.

In this scenario, Diego was scouting ahead just as Riley had told Bree, but having figured things out as Bree had, instead of attacking, he hid near the clearing — waiting to save and/or rejoin Bree. Yet once Diego sees that his beloved Bree is in the custody of the fearsome Jasper, he leaps out of hiding to save her — well after the battle is over — is noticed by Leah, and is killed by Jacob (and others), injuring Jacob in the process.

Possibility 2. Diego was not there at the clearing: This theory is supported by Bree’s own conjecture, and as Bree notes, Riley’s “gone to the dark side” behavior.

In this scenario, Diego was tortured by Riley and the Creator, Victoria, the night he confronted Riley with his deceptions, until Diego gave enough information to them so Riley could keep Bree in the attack party. Once they had the information, he was killed.

So how can these options be verified? By counting the vampires who made it to the clearing (and died there) if Diego had been in the group, versus the number of dead tallied by Jane.

If Diego was there:

At Victoria’s cottage: 22 plus Vic and Riley = 24

Ashes on floor (-1 vamp): 21 plus Victoria and Riley = 23
Confirmation: Bree’s headcount just before dawn: 20 plus Vic plus Riley plus absent Diego = 23

Fred leaves on day of the battle (-1 vamp) = 22 (including Diego)

Sara kills male blond she doesnt know name of (-1 vamp) (including Diego, Bree, Victoria and Riley): 21

Victoria + Riley + Total at battle including Bree and Diego = 21

Thus, there would be a total of 21 total dead vampires if Diego was in the clearing, yet was killed by Jacob after the battle was over.

However:

Jane’s tally of the group defeated by the Cullens: 20
Confirmation: Carlisle says there were 18, including Bree, at first; Edward adds Victoria and Riley to the count, which make a final count of 20 vampires left in Victoria’s army of newborn vampires.

Thus, it appears that Diego never made it to the battle, suggesting that he had been tortured and killed as Bree supposed.

Thus, the manner of both Diego’s and Bree’s deaths swerve the mode* of Bree’s story towards a meaningless mode of irony — wherein things just end, and the hero fails to perceive the order in all things (other than the “order” that there is no order to the universe) rather than ending in meaningful tragic mode — wherein the hero gains insights which reveal the order of the universe, which are so valuable that perhaps the joys of these insights transcend the pains of their price to be learned (for the reader, if not the hero).

This ironic ending adds an element of poetic justice to the deaths of Victoria and Riley, however: they truly deserved to die. There is in this ironic ending an added possibility of subtle political criticism regarding torture, as well.

And yet, a couple issues remain.

First, the ending of “Bree Tanner” doesn’t proceed as one would normally expect for an ironic ending. Generally, any work of art and literature within the Ironic Mode, expresses the sentiments of Queen’s “Bohemian Rhapsody,” driving the following points home:

Is this the real life?
Is this just fantasy?
Caught in a landslide
No escape from reality
Open your eyes
Look up to the skies and see…

Any way the wind blows
Doesn’t really matter to me, to me

Too late, my time has come
Sends shivers down my spine
Body’s aching all the time
Goodbye, everybody
I’ve got to go
Gotta leave you all behind and face the truth
Mama, oooooooh (Anyway the wind blows)
I don’t want to die
Sometimes wish I’d never been born at all…

Nothing really matters
Anyone can see
Nothing really matters
Nothing really matters to me

Any way the wind blows…

Bummer. Which is sort of the point. And why most ironic tales don’t do so hot at the box office. But “Bree Tanner” is the best selling book of the year. So either society as a whole has taken a dire and depressing turn, or the book isn’t as meaningless and ironic as this interpretation suggests.

Further, there are few moments before Bree’s death which do not drive home an ironic ending. Instead, Bree is “touched to the core” by the Cullen’s example. She is quickly persuaded that they represent a truer way of existence than what she had ever known. She longs to join with them.

And in this, Bree truly does parallel Bella. They both want to transcend their unsatisfying lives and live more like the angelic, celestial Cullen family.

Accordingly, Bree quickly begins to communicate with Edward Cullen, and deliberately saves the family from the wrath of Jane and the rest of the Volturi coven. Bree lays out all that she has learned of the truth before the godlike Edward, and entrusts him with knowledge of the most heavenly being she had heretofore known, Fred.

So, in the end, Bree not only briefly becomes the messenger of the gods, if you will, but she saves Fred and Cullens and offers information to help them connect and gain more power in case the Volturi or other enemies of truth should return and threaten their heavenly, immortal lives.

In addition, before her demise, Bree struggles to break off from the hunt — in this case, toward Bella — for the first time in her life. She clearly intends to not hunt Bella in the future, should she be allowed to survive. In only a few brief, eventful minutes, even given her minimal understanding, Bree is committed to live according to the example of the Cullens, if she is only allowed to live with them. But the Volturi would never allow her to live.

And in this, “Bree Tanner” takes a firm turn toward meaningful tragedy. It may be “death-bed repentance,” but Bree has thrown off her carnal nature and has become god-like herself. So, we may presume, if there is an afterlife for Meyer’s vampires, Bree’s soul will be saved.

And Diego’s off-screen death certainly softens the blow for Bree, as she faces her own “ending.” She knows that life without her love would leave her bereft, and she is left with the expectation of rejoining him one day in lives beyond.

Further, what happened to Diego’s body? There is no closure (for many readers at least) in his death. He’s just… gone. Weird.

In soap operas, there is a rule that whenever someone dies, they generally die off-screen so that if fans complain enough, so the character can later re-enter the show — it was all a mistake, a ruse, a miracle surgery brought him back to life, etc.

Which suggests that perhaps Diego survives, overcomes Riley, or some other scenario took place which allowed him to escape. And if he escaped, within the confines of the milieu we are given in “Bree Tanner,” we may expect that Diego would join with Fred in the pursuit of greater truths about themselves and their world.

In any case, we do know that the godlike Fred does survive. Since only righteous beings can withstand his presence, the Volturi cannot harm him — or see him, or even understand that he lives. And in that, there is hope.

And all of that hope brings a deeper reading of “The Short Second Life of Bree Tanner” from meaningless irony into meaningful tragedy, and leaves us, the readers, with a renewed sense of hope, and deeper understanding of how we might best secure our own hopes for a more fulfilling, understanding life — and afterlife.

——-
*There are four modes of literature/drama/art:

1. Adventure, where the hero goes from bad circumstances to good. The hero’s journey is not only triumphant but insightful.

2. Adventure’s opposite, Tragedy, where the hero goes from good to bad. The hero’s fall is saddening and cathartic, yet insightful.

3. Comedy, where the hero goes from good to good (often, slightly better). When everything goes so well in the world, you can’t help but laugh, and maybe learn a little lesson along the way.

4. Comedy’s opposite, Irony, where the hero goes from bad to bad (often worse), yet learns little if anything, other than the pointlessness of (their) life.

The New Moon cast. Will anyone not saved by Bella raise their hands? Nice try, Jessica. If you only knew.

It’s been a while since I posted formally to the Meaning of Twilight blog. So here goes. MSNBC posted an article today which includes:

The books are written about Bella’s life and through her perspective — taking the reader through the teen’s innermost thoughts about love, death, vampires and unnecessary cold medications. But even that intimacy fails to engender sympathy for a character who comes off to many as whiny, self-involved and weak.

“Never have I read a story written in the first person where I really cared less about the person who is doing the talking,” said Sharmila Badkar-Bhan, 33, of San Francisco. Jones described Bella both as “a girl who was born to whine” and also “the worst female protagonist in the world of fiction.”

And Bella “comes across as a weak, boring thing who always needs to be rescued,” said Catherine Shattuck, 36, of San Francisco.

I think the readers of Twilight quoted above, as well as many others, may misunderstand the series. Twilight is* a God-and-man allegory showing Bella — an unreliable narrator, with an unpolished narrative style — who reaches divinization through commitment, love, and sacrifice. The key here though is that she, like many people, fails even to see her own self very clearly (as her Edward points out often) until the very, very end of Breaking Dawn. You will notice many references to lying in the series, suggesting that Bella is “lying,” or at least incorrect in how she sees things. The surprising thing, at least to me, is that so many people believe her wholeheartedly.

For example, she is lonely for the god-like presence of the Cullens after they depart in New Moon, the possibility of reaching a heavenly state in their presence, and when she seeks comfort with the earthy wolfpack, readers assume that she is hopelessly dependent upon men. Yet she saves every other character in the series, especially the men, who are hopelessly mistaken and wrong-headed in every decision they make. The girls, especially Bella, need to rescue everyone else over and over again. Still, feminist critics complain that she is weak. Just because Bella views herself as weak doesn’t mean the readers shouldn’t notice that she is the dominant savior for the entire series.

Others complain that the stories are morally bereft because she is sleeping with a vampire. Only sleeping, but still they complain. Yet Edward is expressly said to be her “guardian angel” repeatedly in the series. He is watching over her, and providing a tangible goal as she sets out to discover the godly in life and within herself. When she herself becomes a demi-God, the most powerful vampire in the world because she has diligently sought to be more godly, these readers still complain. Who among them strives to “see as she is seen” by God as Bella has?

Then there’s the Bella = zero readers. Why all these other complaints if she is merely nothing? Surely the reader enjoys a profoundly subjective experience through Bella’s first-person perspective — which is why 100 million readers have become immersed into the story. But if she had no perspective, what is with the hundreds of opinions that litter the entire series? She hates occasions, values her friendships, worries that she is unnaturally clumsy, and so forth. She has an opinion on virtually everything she sees. The immersive experience of seeing life through Bella’s eyes is not only not a nothing, it is a “something” which they not only engage with, she is someone they aspire to become more like. Why? Her fans enjoy watching her choices, because they then feel empowered to make their own choices in their own lives. The cause-and-effect, Law of the Harvest order of the universe is revealed, a path to success is sketched out, and her readers begin to apply those principles in their own lives — a transformation that begins to rival Bella’s own experience.

And it concerns me when a cultural milestone like this awakes so many in our culture, yet is so widely misunderstood by its critics and is criticized not on what it offers, but on what they imagine it doesn’t offer.

There is more there than meets the eye. Which is Meyer’s main point — for Bella, for the series, and for each of her careful readers who she rewards in remarkably profound ways.

Alice:

A model sports a black sleeveless geometric dress with openwork design and a train during the presentation of Cerruti’s Spring-Summer 2003 ready-to-wear collection, Wednesday, Oct. 9, 2002 in Paris.

If you have info on Bella’s dress, please let us know.

I enjoyed the interview, and recommend to others; it is a serious and introspective piece which I appreciate. Melissa’s candor is refreshing.

That said, I confess some concern about the possibility of changing the values and themes of the saga to fit what she refers to at one point as her “feminist agenda.” I’m not sure if the reporter is sort of leading the conversation along this path, or if this truly represents Melissa’s primary concern with Bella’s story arc. My concern is because:

First, I think that many readers already appreciate Stephenie’s values inasmuch as they are expressed in Twilight. Altering story elements is one thing, while changing themes can be quite another matter entirely. And when people don’t agree with the theme, they don’t like the film (at least, very much).

Secondarily, Bella is the hero of the series. She saves everyone — from the villains and from themselves. That there is a sacrificial element and underlying humility to her story, underscores the transforming power of love. It doesn’t make Bella weak. Quite the contrary, it reveals her strength of character. Further, it helps her find her strength — her shielding power. She is the true protector in the series.

Finally, the men in Twilight already screw up everything. They are tragically stupid, they fight endlessly and pointlessly, they threaten foolishly, and they make constant, dangerous errors in judgment. Few (if any) of their ideas are correct. At one point, Meyer wonders if violence is endemic to the Y chromosone. In the Twilight universe, when a man disagrees with a woman, the woman is always right (just like in real ).

In contrast, the women in the books (esp. Bella) already have to do everything that is actually done. While the guys are busy moping, Bella (and the other female characters) are driving the plot forward by making successful plans and carrying them out. The women drive the significant (and successful) events throughout the entire series.

Just because Bella is an unreliable narrator — and mistakenly thinks she is the one doing all the moping, or that she isn’t brave (when she obviously is), or that her humanity is like a tragic flaw, and so forth — doesn’t change her basic strength, clarity of thought, and her ability to enlist the other women in carrying out her successful plans.

Even though she doesn’t see herself clearly (as Edward warns her at the start of “Twilight”) until the very end of “Breaking Dawn,” doesn’t mean that we can’t, won’t, or don’t. Bella is awesome. We all recognize that. Already.

So how does the series — and Bella in particular — need Melissa to alter the flawed Twilight to be more feminist?

SPOILER ALERT FOR “THE SHORT SECOND LIFE OF BREE TANNER” — (Don’t read below if you haven’t read Bree Tanner yet and don’t want to be spoiled!)

Just a few days ago, I interviewed Steve Walker, Stephenie’s fave professor from BYU, along with John Granger, author of “Spotlight,” (listen to our podcast here) and we talked at length about how Edward and the Cullens represent angelic, godlike beings. Bella is filled with desire to join with them — to become like them and to “see as she is seen.” Of course, to see yourself as God sees you, you first have to become like God. After all, at first she doesn’t see herself very clearly at all, as Edward points out at the start of Twilight. Eventually, Bella does (finally) see herself as she truly is, at the end of Breaking Dawn (even though she is mostly just embarrassed recognizing that she is the “superhero of the day,” and entire series).

As pointed out at HogwartsProfessor.com, Twilight is very much like the myth where Psyche pursues her godlike love, Cupid. But to Psyche/Bella to remain with him, she must become more like the godlike Edward, saving him (many times) as he saves her, so that she can earn the right to be one with him eternally, and remain with the celestial Cullen family forever. There is a religious metaphor at work here, that many can relate with, I’m sure.

Yet here, in Bree Tanner, we have a contrasting scenario. Unlike Bella, Bree finds herself frequently unable to choose her own path. She barely begins to become reborn, rising from the depths into the light, discovering love and through it the beauties of life, along with her own glowing, godlike potential. Yet she fails to choose to overcome the world — its lies, pain, fears, and limits of time. It is tragic.

I am amazed to discover an additional allegory within the text that, whereas Bella discovered a celestial, eternal family to emulate and join, Bree finds herself in a false religion as it were, built upon constraining lies instead of ennobling truths. Specifically, lots of hellish fires are threatened throughout.

After her literal and metaphorical “enlightenment,” Bree discovers that her leaders are incorrect (metaphorically, false parents? false priests?) she asks some wonderful questions such as, “What can we do when we don’t know what’s happening?” Is her father/priest, Riley, lying or mistaken? Does the Creator assent to this deception? And what should Bree do about it, either way?

Many of us find ourselves misled by those who claim to care for us. Perhaps they are good people who are nevertheless mistaken. Perhaps they are evil and wish to harm, or control us. When we find ourselves in that situation, we may find ourselves in the same quandary as Bree. “What can we do when we don’t know what’s happening?” With all those limbs being taken off, it reminds me of the passage:

“And if thy hand offend thee, cut it off: it is better for thee to enter into life maimed, than having two hands to go into hell, into the fire that never shall be quenched.”

The verse is something Riley should have considered before he lost his hand in Eclipse, and ended up consumed by fires anyway.

Yet if we hesitate too long, due to fiery fears or dark thoughts of revenge, or by clinging to the wrong people — the congenial Diego over the godlike Fred — our time and opportunities may run out, and we may find ourselves burning, perhaps metaphorically, perhaps not, in a hell of our own making. So Bree finds herself consumed in flame largely after being overcome by her burning pains in her throat, and her lingering fears in her heart of her initial burning… Incredibly rich story.

Thank you, Stephenie.

One more point: Immediately after reading Bree Tanner, I was Team Fred because he’s so godlike: Besides being glorious, he is incredibly powerful and wise, always watching, won’t be used or mocked, protects the weak, repulses the evil with his very presence, and he is generally invisible to all but those who believe he is good. And, he is out there somewhere — even when we aren’t sure exactly where.

But I have to ask: Judging from the numbers at the final battle… And that Diego wasn’t seen by Bree on the battle field… Was the one vampire who was still hiding, and who attacked Leah and Jacob…

Diego?

If so, Diego was undoubtedly trying to save Bree from Jasper and the rest of the Yellow Eyes. He sacrificed himself to save who he loved. Was he tortured before his sacrificial death? Regardless, if it was him, then Diego wins the most godlike by virtue of showing “no greater love.”

So sad, yet such a poetically triumphant love.

Yet, if Bree had just stayed hidden, and left to find Fred, then Diego would have stayed hidden… And backtracking, he would have found her trail, reuniting with her and Fred that same day.

Well, at least there is a hint of more to come… since the Cullens have yet to be “nice” to Fred.

In any case, I can’t wait to discuss Bree with John Granger and Steve Walker in an upcoming Twilight News Site Podcast!

We all fall in love — for some, make that “have fallen” or for the younger set, “will fall.” Not a crush. Not a “marriage of convenience.” The real thing.

And for many of us, that is a transformative experience. It opens new possibilities, and poses new responsibilities. We take on both. And it’s… magical. Incredible. Wonderful.

Everyone experiences that. Or can, if they can be as unselfish and sacrifice as needed, like Bella. And Edward.

And like Jacob who lost his, we would have liked to have had a mother as kind and caring as Bella. Or a father like Charlie, or Carlisle. Even when we didn’t.

Whether some refuse to enjoy it, and whether that’s because they chose another (lesser?) path, we all “get” Twilight.

And for those of us who haven’t chosen a path that renders Bella’s possibilities too painful to consider, we love it. Everyone I know does.

Thanks, Stephenie. We appreciate it.

There are — news flash here — true differences between men and women.

A friend who has twins (one boy, one girl) told me the story of when they were down at a pond, and the young twins spotted a cute little duck.

The little girl said, “I want to pet the duck.”

The little boy said, “I want to kill the duck.”

I rest my case.

And with that gender gauntlet thrown, let me say to you as a meat-eating, Entourage-watching, sports-loving (OK, I really don’t love sports, or actually understand sports) — heterosexual man who can’t sit through a single show on Lifetime television, let me loudly proclaim: I, Brad Meltzer, love the Twilight series by Stephenie Meyer.

Now this is the part where I’m supposed to make an intellectual disclaimer like: I don’t really love it, but I appreciate it for what it is.

But let me be clear here. I love it. I love Twilight. I love Bella, and I love Edward.

I’m not alone. Since it debuted in 2005, the Twilight series has sold over 53 [actually, 85] million copies, making it the hottest thing in bookshops since that nerdy kid with the lightning-bolt scar.

But back to what’s really important: Me.

I love this story of the gawky, awkward girl who falls in love with the brooding vampire. And I love that she can’t get sexual with said vampire because when her blood gets pumping, it’ll send him into a frenzy and he’ll kill her. (How’s that for a prophylactic?)

I love hearing the dark secret histories of how the other vampires were turned into vampires. And I love when Edward gets all huffy with Jacob the werewolf — oh my God, I’m on the verge of writing fan-fic here — but again, in case you missed it, I love this story.

But for the most part, I’ve told almost no one.

Y’know why?

Because as a man, this book is not supposed to be for me.

I realized this when I went to see the Twilight movie. Yes, I was there. Opening weekend. We got a babysitter for it. And I sat there in the dark with my wife and a roomful of suburban mothers and a smattering of teenage daughters. I counted. There were four other men (all teenagers) besides me. Me. Four dragged-along boyfriends. And the rest women.

But you know who I blame for this?

I blame my fellow men. That’s right. I blame all the men out there who point fingers and call things “girlie” and run like spineless cowards whenever something gets embraced by the opposite sex.

It happens all the time. Remember when men were named Terry and Robin and Leslie? And then a few cool girls were named Teri and Robin and Leslie. And what happened? The men ran. Those names were ceded to the women.

To be honest, I can handle that for Leslie. Leslie is just not a cool name (no offense to Leslie Sydelman, who came to my bar mitzvah). But I will not let this stand for Twilight. We’d never dismiss Romeo and Juliet as “just for women.” (Yes, I know — I’m not saying it’s Shakespeare, and I still think Harry Potter is better — but don’t mess up my analogy.) I won’t cede Twilight.

And so I challenge — not the men out there; the men are clearly wusses — I challenge the women. Give Twilight to your teenage sons. Give it to your nephews and husbands and other guy types. Tell them it’s cool. Tell them they’ll like it. Tell them that it’ll help them understand women and therefore help them get dates (c’mon, why else do you think I spent so much time with Are You There God? It’s Me, Margaret)

And I issue this challenge — not for sexual equality, not to break down gender barriers. I issue it for the most vital reason of all: The sequel is coming, and I’m tired of being the only guy in the movie theater.

Source

OPRAH WINFREY (HOST): Let me give you a hug. It’s okay. It’s okay. Yeah. Really? Okay, and you’re nervous why? Tell me why.

KRISTEN STEWART: Well, you know, this means a lot to you guys, and it’s the same deal for me. I understand that your words have weight, and I mince them when I know that everybody’s waiting for them. You know what I mean?

I just wanted to briefly express my gratitude to Stephenie Meyer. She took the time to write down her dream/inspiration that morning in 2003 when other things were pressing. I’d say she made the right choice.

By writing down her dream that morning — and following through that summer and in years to come — She has kept many, many families afloat during this recession. Entire industries, in fact.

More importantly, she has enriched the lives of millions by allowing them to catch a glimpse of their own immortal potential and the infinite love they can share with another — if they only knew they could. And Stephenie helped us to know we can.

So thanks, Stephenie. You helped make our lives better, and changed the world in the process. Thank you, and God bless you. I really appreciate it.

-James