G is in bed reading Twilight, which she requested, in her words, "so I can see what the big deal is." I am desperately trying to withhold my snark until she's finished and has formed her own opinion, but it's so hard. Nothing brings out the snarky beast in me like terrible writing, especially when served up with a side dish of sparkly vampire lurve. (Don't worry, I read the first book myself about a year ago, and it's 100-percent sex-free, not to mention remarkably bloodless for a book about vampires -- around page 200, I started thinking If someone doesn't bite someone else soon, I am going to go insane. They didn't, but the faint, fond hope that a plot would magically emerge kept me going through the next few hundred pages.)
I hope she doesn't fall in love with it and end up wanting to read the whole series. I'll be biting my tongue for the rest of my life!