Picture it, it’s
a crappy day. The rain fell heavily; the street is like a river due to so many
puddles. Your jeans are slipping down your hips because you 1) forgot to wear a
belt and 2) the rainwater has seeped up your legs as far as the knee and the
added weight doesn’t help.
You missed the bus by a few seconds. In fact you got right to the door just as the busman closed them. You tap light, smiling, hoping he’ll take pity on you and will open the doors and allow you admission in to the dryness. But the shitebag sees you and turns his head, pretending you’re not there and awaits a gap in the traffic in order to pull out.
You’re seething. And feel like banging on the glass, giving him the finger and calling him a terrible name. But you refrain from it all, telling yourself that that wasn’t how you were raised.
You simply await the next bus. First in line.
It comes. Ten minutes late. Everybody crams the line, pushing, shoving you, until you realise that you’re now near the end of the line. Screw being nice! I was here first! ‘They are not skipping me,’ you fume.
You cut around the bus stop post, bypassing those who had bypassed you, and nudge your way back to the front and manage to get onboard in the first five people. Hurray!
You see it, your favourite seat is free, if only this guy using his student card would hurry at the machine you could get it before anyone else can. You’re not a rude person, you don’t want to push by him despite others doing so, but you worry you won’t get that seat.
Finally he is finished and you manage to get that seat. Double hurray! Wait…what’s this? Down by your foot, why it is a Chapters Bookshop bag, and it’s not empty. Ching-ching! You think to yourself.
You don’t want to pick it up right away so you wait until the bus empties before looking inside. Your heart drops. It is Twilight. *groan* It’s like the damn thing is haunting you.
The dilemma you were dealing with the whole journey home, the ‘should I hand it up to the driver or keep it?’ dilemma was now obsolete. It was Twilight. You didn’t want. Hell! I wouldn’t be surprised if whoever bought it read it and decided to ditch it there.
“Hey, someone left this down the back of the bus,” you say as you hold it up to the driver.
He eyes the 2.99 price tag. “Ah sure, it’s only 3 yo-yo’s, love. Keep it.”
I very, very begrudging admit it: I loved the art work.
It is beautiful. I won’t name names but it far outdoes other works that I’ve read in the medium. (And it’s glossy. Not at all that gritty paper that makes me cringe each time I touch it that some graphic novels are printed on. That is always a plus for me; I really do hate that type of paper.)
But best of all, it is without Bella Swan’s telling but not showing. What we see and read is what we get. Gone is the annoying narration telling us one thing, but the actions of everyone else telling us another.
Bella isn’t half the spineless doormat she is in the novel and is therefore likable in this medium. And dare I say it? Edward is tolerable too. Without his blatant manipulation and disregard for everyone who isn’t himself, Bella or his family, he isn’t half as detestable.
My knowledge of graphic novels isn’t major, in fact it could be deemed as very very minor. The amount of graphic novels I have read can be counted on my fingers. But I’ve come to hear that the script in this isn’t great, it’s actually basic, and the artist, Young Kim, has a habit of placing speech bubbles over character faces. All I can say is it didn’t bother me in the slightest. I thought it all worked very well.
You missed the bus by a few seconds. In fact you got right to the door just as the busman closed them. You tap light, smiling, hoping he’ll take pity on you and will open the doors and allow you admission in to the dryness. But the shitebag sees you and turns his head, pretending you’re not there and awaits a gap in the traffic in order to pull out.
You’re seething. And feel like banging on the glass, giving him the finger and calling him a terrible name. But you refrain from it all, telling yourself that that wasn’t how you were raised.
You simply await the next bus. First in line.
It comes. Ten minutes late. Everybody crams the line, pushing, shoving you, until you realise that you’re now near the end of the line. Screw being nice! I was here first! ‘They are not skipping me,’ you fume.
You cut around the bus stop post, bypassing those who had bypassed you, and nudge your way back to the front and manage to get onboard in the first five people. Hurray!
You see it, your favourite seat is free, if only this guy using his student card would hurry at the machine you could get it before anyone else can. You’re not a rude person, you don’t want to push by him despite others doing so, but you worry you won’t get that seat.
Finally he is finished and you manage to get that seat. Double hurray! Wait…what’s this? Down by your foot, why it is a Chapters Bookshop bag, and it’s not empty. Ching-ching! You think to yourself.
You don’t want to pick it up right away so you wait until the bus empties before looking inside. Your heart drops. It is Twilight. *groan* It’s like the damn thing is haunting you.
The dilemma you were dealing with the whole journey home, the ‘should I hand it up to the driver or keep it?’ dilemma was now obsolete. It was Twilight. You didn’t want. Hell! I wouldn’t be surprised if whoever bought it read it and decided to ditch it there.
“Hey, someone left this down the back of the bus,” you say as you hold it up to the driver.
He eyes the 2.99 price tag. “Ah sure, it’s only 3 yo-yo’s, love. Keep it.”
And that, my
friends, is the story of how I came to be the owner of Twilight: The Graphic
Novel Vol. 1.
I will hold my hands
up and admit it, I am not a Twilight fan, *I hear my friends choking on their
‘no shit, Sherlock’* but I did enjoy this book in a big way.I very, very begrudging admit it: I loved the art work.
It is beautiful. I won’t name names but it far outdoes other works that I’ve read in the medium. (And it’s glossy. Not at all that gritty paper that makes me cringe each time I touch it that some graphic novels are printed on. That is always a plus for me; I really do hate that type of paper.)
But best of all, it is without Bella Swan’s telling but not showing. What we see and read is what we get. Gone is the annoying narration telling us one thing, but the actions of everyone else telling us another.
Bella isn’t half the spineless doormat she is in the novel and is therefore likable in this medium. And dare I say it? Edward is tolerable too. Without his blatant manipulation and disregard for everyone who isn’t himself, Bella or his family, he isn’t half as detestable.
My knowledge of graphic novels isn’t major, in fact it could be deemed as very very minor. The amount of graphic novels I have read can be counted on my fingers. But I’ve come to hear that the script in this isn’t great, it’s actually basic, and the artist, Young Kim, has a habit of placing speech bubbles over character faces. All I can say is it didn’t bother me in the slightest. I thought it all worked very well.
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