Journal of Dracula Studies 12 (2010)
[Melissa Ames is an Assistant Professor at Eastern Illinois University specializing in media studies. Her recent publications include: Women and the Gendering of Communication Practices Across Media (2011), Television and Temporality: Exploring Narrative Time in 21st Century Programming (2011), and chapters in Grace Under Pressure: Grey’s Anatomy Uncovered (2008), and Writing the Digital Generation (2010).]
Vampirism and sexuality have
been bedfellows since the first vampire narratives began to dominate print
literature in the18th century.
Although it might at first appear to be quite removed from the gothic
realm that houses vampire storylines, another category of literature has also
long been associated with sexuality.
Young adult literature is well known for its attention to interpersonal
relationships, self-exploration, budding romance, teen angst, and, of course,
teen sex. As such, it is not surprising
that young adult texts began merging their narrative recipes with that of traditional
gothic vampire tales. These hybrid
narratives have since proliferated, especially throughout the last three
decades. Stefanie Meyer’s now infamous Twilight
saga (2005-2008) has brought renewed attention to the popularity of such
young adult vampire narratives. Her
series also resurrected the criticism vampire storylines (young adult or
otherwise) often face for their portrayals of gender and sexuality.
This essay examines the Twilight
series as part of the longstanding tradition of vampire narratives – many
seeped with contradictory gender portrayals and diverse depictions of
sexuality. In this article I analyze Twilight
historically, as a product of its time and as a product of its textual
predecessors. In doing so, I will draw
upon literary critiques of canonical texts like Bram Stoker’s Dracula
(1897) and of best-selling books like Anne Rice’s The Vampire Chronicles
(1976-2003), both of which have been made into Hollywood films. I also analyze Twilight in terms of its
target audience by comparing it to a popular young adult vampire series that
predated it, L.J. Smith’s The Vampire Diaries (1991-1992), as
well as to the television cult-phenomenon, Buffy the Vampire Slayer
(1997-2003), both of which have also appeared in different mediated formats.
The texts selected for this
analysis against the Twilight saga target two different types of
audiences: mainstream vampire narratives
(intended to be read by a wide, and predominantly adult, readership), such as Dracula
and The Vampire Chronicles, and young adult vampire narratives (marketed
directly to a more narrow, usually female, teen demographic), such as The
Vampire Diaries and Buffy the Vampire Slayer. Comparing these subsets of vampire literature
allows one to see how vampire narratives shift based on their intended
audience. This discussion also helps to
explain how some of the problems critics find with the Twilight series may be
linked to its adherence to the tropes of the young adult vampire tale. Although a great number of vampire narratives
could have been selected to represent these two groupings, I have selected Dracula,
The Vampire Chronicles, The Vampire Diaries, and Buffy the Vampire
Slayer based on their popular reception and the attention they received by
scholars. Dracula, a novel that
has been read widely since its publication over two centuries ago, exists
as an antecedent text for almost all vampire narratives that follow it. Anne Rice’s series created a cult following
and helped to revive popular interest in vampire narratives at the end of the
20th century (“Anne Rice” 1).
Buffy the Vampire Slayer spawned an active fan following which
resulted in numerous academic studies not only on the program itself, but of
the active audience it drew in. L.J.
Smith’s series, although popular, did not receive as much attention as the
texts it is being read against. However,
its revival in 2008 as a novel series and its 2009 transition onto the small
screen make it a useful text to read alongside of Twilight.
All of these vampire
narratives provide a useful space to analyze the fictionalized constructs of
gender and sexuality, to see how these are presented to different audiences,
and how they result in storylines and themes that may produce troubling gender
analyses, as has Twilight. As a
result of these comparisons, this essay explores how gender politics and
sexuality are portrayed across a subset of vampire narratives – across time,
audience, and mediated format – arguing that Twilight is simply one
vampire narrative in a long line that has sparked controversial gender analyses
and feminist criticism from scholars.
Nina Auerbach in her analysis of Dracula and Janice Doane and
Devon Hodges in their criticism of Rice’s series, for example, claim that
vampire narratives are often a reflection of their contemporary time, the
political landscape, and that they can even point to the progress and/or
stumbling points of movements, such as feminism. This essay entertains their suggestion
that vampire narratives are a product of their own time period and seeks to
discover if, and how, Meyer’s saga represents the current time period and/or
speaks to the present state of feminism.
Moreover, this article analyzes how the Twilight books function
specifically as young adult vampire narratives and questions
whether this complicates their portrayals of gender and sexuality so important
to feminist scholars.
Through the Feminist Looking Glass:
Gender-Based Critiques of Twilight
A brief overview of the criticism and defenses Meyer’s books have inspired
is needed before delving into how the series evolves from the vampire
narratives that precede it. It would be
an understatement to simply note that the series has received “mixed”
reviews. More interesting are the
contradictory feelings fans themselves have had for the books as the saga
progressed. Cultural critic Eric Jost
summed up the love-hate relationship many readers have with Meyers’s texts,
commenting that never before had he “found a series so compelling, while at the
same time been so offended by a story’s content and despicable cast of
characters” (1). When looking at the
criticism the series has had at large, the criticism from self-proclaimed
feminists has been the most regular, and often the most negative, in terms of
gender representations. For example, Jezebel.com calls Meyer’s final book, Breaking
Dawn, a “creepy anti-abortion allegory” that promotes teen motherhood and a
fundamentally conservative ideology (Anna 2).
Others accuse Twilight of being “a how-to manual for an abusive
relationship” (Voynar 2). For some the
problem lies within the characters Meyer crafted, rather than in the plot of
the novels themselves. Jost, for
instance, suggests that Meyer began with a storyline that had the potential to
be “a provocative piece of gothic fantasy” but then marred it through the
creation of unlikable, anti-feminist characters and an anachronistic setting
which forces modern readers into the mindset of a previous time in which “women
were property and only received validation from men’s opinions of them” (1).
For some critics, the
depiction of the main character, Isabella “Bella” Swan – a self-deprecating
teenage girl who becomes fixated on Edward Cullen, the vampire who will remain
her love interest and partner throughout the series – seems to be the common
jumping off point for critical analyses.
Leonard Sax, the author of Why Gender Matters, points out the
difference between the Twilight books and the blockbuster young adult
collections that came before them. Harry
Potter, a young adult series originally marketed for young adults and children,
crossed over into mainstream culture and was eventually read by males
and females of all age groups (Sax 2008).
He suggests that although Twilight experienced a similar
crossover, its intended demographic was always much narrower and more gendered;
the books specifically target teenage girls and young women, and that is
predominantly who reads them. Sax argues that the allure of Twilight for
this smaller audience is exactly what critics have a problem with – its
marriage of modern sensibility and traditional notions of gender. Sax points out that this combination of a
modern setting with outdated gender norms is quite unusual in young adult
literature today. But, yet, in Twilight,
traditional gender stereotypes abound.
The principal “male characters, Edward Cullen and Jacob Black, are
muscular and unwaveringly brave, while Bella and the other girls bake cookies,
make supper for the men and hold all-female slumber parties” (B7). To add to some already problematic
characterizations, Bella is consistently depicted as the damsel in distress
forever in need of rescue by a male.
Beyond the troubling gender
portrayals present in the book, other critics have taken offense to the way the
series deals with sexuality. Although
teen sexual desire is a common motif of Meyer’s Eclipse, the underlying
message present is that sex is sinful and off limits. This is seen repeatedly as Bella’s advances
are cast aside by Edward, who wishes to preserve her virtue by waiting until
they are married to first have sexual intercourse. More troubling than these moralistic scenes
of rejection, which some claim are present to advocate abstinence,[1] are the ones in Breaking
Dawn where Bella and Edward finally, after marriage, have sex. As a result of this sought after union, Bella
ends up physically hurt due to coming into repeated close contact with Edward’s
hard, marble-like body, her body covered in bruises, and blames herself for the
injuries Edward has accidentally caused.
In this case, despite their marital status, sexual intercourse is still
dangerous. Also, Bella’s self-blame
for the injuries she obtained during consensual intercourse, sounds all too
similar to rape victims who blame themselves for being assaulted after the
fact.[2]
It should be noted, however,
that not all critics have found the series to be a disturbing addition to young
adult literature. In fact, film critic
Kim Voynar responded to some of the most common feminist concerns with the
book. The first major criticism she
focuses on is the claim that the series is inherently anti-feminist due to the
fact that Bella is willing to give up her life and become a vampire in order to
stay with Edward forever. Voynar argues
that Bella was never really willing to choose Edward over all else, that, in
fact, she always thought, or at least hoped, she could somehow keep her friends
and family in her life after she became a vampire. The second criticism Voynar refutes is that
Bella and Edward’s relationship is abusive in nature because he wields all
control. To disprove this notion, Voynar
chooses to focus on Bella’s control toward the end of the series. She notes
specifically Bella’s self-control post-transformation, arguing that the
depiction of her strength and her ability to manage her blood lust does not
speak “of a female character who’s inherently weak and controlled by others”
(3). Voynar also points out that Bella
was never a passive figure in her relationships with Edward. Throughout the series she makes her own
decisions: to pursue Edward, to advance
their physical relations, and to be joined with him for eternity.
The third concern Voynar
addresses deals specifically with Breaking Dawn and the claim that the
text is anti-feminist due to Bella’s pregnancy.
Many feminists have been bothered by Bella’s refusal to terminate the
pregnancy[3], especially when carrying the
half-vampire child almost kills her.
Some consider the book to be a piece of anti-abortion rhetoric. Voynar finds this particular claim troubling.
She writes:
For me, a big part of my
feminist beliefs [has] to do
with the concept of choice; that is
to say, I believe that feminism is about being
pro-choice, which is not the same as being
pro-abortion. The idea of pro-choice means supporting women in making the choice that’s right for them around a pregnancy
– not proselytizing abortion as
the only ‘right’ choice. (Voynar 3)
She argues that Bella’s devotion to
seeing the pregnancy through and protecting her unborn child is not as
far-fetched as some readers believe.
Voynar poses the question: “since
when is motherhood and maternal impulse inherently anti-feminist?” (4). Voynar
is not the only scholar who has seen redeeming qualities in the series. Caitlin Flanagan, staff writer for The
Atlantic, took a more negotiated stance on the series, reading it as a
throwback to young adult literature of the past. While many read Edward and Bella’s
relationship as dysfunctional, Flanagan depicts it in a more positive
light: “Twilight centers on a boy
who loves a girl so much that he refuses to defile her, and on a girl who loves
him so dearly that she is desperate for him to do just that, even if the wages
of the act are expulsion from her family and from everything she has ever known”
(3). She argues that “Meyer has
re-created the sort of middle-class American youth in which it was unheard of
for a nice girl to be a sexual aggressor,” something she feels has been missing
in the young adult literature of the
most recent decades (Flannagan 4).
Vampire Narratives “Progress” in the 21st
Century?
Although many would like to
claim that the Twilight books are not representative of the 21st
century, their massive popularity makes some wonder. For example, Sax asks why, in a supposedly
enlightened era, girls would “respond with rabid enthusiasm to books that
communicate such old-fashioned gender stereotypes?” (B7). His answer will likely not appease Twilight’s
self-proclaimed feminist critics. He
claims that “the fascination that romance holds for many girls is not a mere
social construct; it derives from something deeper” (B7). Through his research for Why Gender
Matters, Sax, a psychologist and family physician, interviewed hundreds of
girls throughout the United States, Australia, and New Zealand trying to
determine how the recent move toward gender-neutral child rearing has affected
the youth of the 21st century.
He discovered that “despite all the indoctrination they’ve received to
the contrary,” most girls:
believe that human nature is
gendered to the core. They are hungry for books that reflect that sensibility. Three decades of adults pretending that gender doesn’t matter haven’t created
a generation of feminists who don’t need men;
they have instead created a horde of girls who adore the traditional
male and female roles and
relationships in the “Twilight” saga. Likewise, ignoring gender differences hasn’t created a generation of boys who muse about their
feelings while they work on their scrapbooks. Instead, a growing
number of boys in this country spend much of their free time
absorbed in the masculine mayhem of
video games such as Grand Theft Auto
and Halo or surfing the Internet for pornography. (B7)
His central argument is that ignoring
gender is not having the desired effect; in fact, it has instead contributed to
the widening of the gender divide. His
argument is interesting in that it questions the criticism some have against
the books – the fear that they will reinforce outdated gender roles. He suggests that young girls will seek out
narratives that reinforce these much feared antiquated gender depictions and
that the Twilight craze is simply verification of this fact, not the
cause of it. Sax is not the only scholar
to suggest that Twilight is a bi-product of its time, of a post-feminist
era, and of a generation that sees the women’s movement as something completed
rather than as always in progress.[4] And while this argument is intriguing,
especially because the books were published in a decade that saw a
revitalization of conservatism and family values, I suggest that Twilight’s
success is not due to how well it articulates any shifting beliefs of the 21st
century, but more so how it morphs the vampire narrative into the young adult
romance genre.
Audience & Age: A Look at How “Adult” & “Young Adult”
Vampire Narratives Differ
Vampire narratives seem to
mutate slightly when aimed at young adult consumers. When comparing the Twilight saga to
other print texts such as Dracula, The Vampire Chronicles, and The
Vampire Diaries, an obvious difference is the way they depict
sexuality. The young adult novels tend
to portray primarily heteronormative relationships reinforced by “traditional”
family values. All the couples in the
novels are heterosexual and quickly enter into lifelong commitments.[5] The print vampire narratives aimed at a more
general readership do not limit their relationships in this way; they often
include non-traditional family structures, focus on homosocial relationships,
and include characters that could be classified as asexual or bisexual rather than
heterosexual.[6] Because of this, the mainstream vampire
narratives leave room for more fascinating analyses in terms of sexuality.
Although Dracula is
certainly not the first work to fall into the category of vampire literature,
it is one of the earliest and remains the most influential. Stoker’s narrative takes on the form of an
epistolary novel composed of diary entries, letters, telegrams, and
fictionalized newspaper columns chronicling the attacks of its primary
antagonist, the vampire, Count Dracula.
The novel focuses on the downfall of one female protagonist, Lucy
Westerna, and the subsequent rescue of another female protagonist, Mina Harker,
by her husband Jonathan Harker and his associates, Dr. John Seward, Arthur
Holmwood, Quincey Morris, and Professor Abraham Van Helsing.
In a Freudian reading of Dracula,
Christopher Bentley finds what he terms “deviant” sexual behavior throughout
the entire novel from the incestuous
relationship Dracula has with his three sister/daughter figures to the symbolic
adultery present when the many suitors give blood to Lucy, to the “forced
quasi-fellatio” invoked when Dracula imposes his blood upon Mina (qtd. in
Demetrakopoulos 105). Stephanie Demetrakopoulos notes yet another “perversity”
within the text –“the suggestion of group sex” when “all the men surround
Arthur in a rather voyeuristic brotherhood as he pounds the stake into Lucy”[7] and earlier “when the three
vampire women approach Harker” in a sort of group orgy (105).
Nearly one century after the
publication of Dracula, Anne Rice’s series, The Vampire Chronicles,
arrived on the literary scene. The first
book in the series, Interview with the Vampire, was published in 1976
with nine subsequent books released between 1985 and 2003. Like Twilight, this series crossed
over onto the big screen with Interview with the Vampire (1994); the
second and third novels, The Vampire Lestat (1985) and The Queen of
the Damned (1988) served as the foundation of the 2002 film bearing the
latter’s title. For the purposes of this essay I will only discuss the first
book in Rice’s series.
Interview with the Vampire is primarily the story of two
male vampires, Louis and Lestat, and their pseudo daughter, Claudia. Like Stoker’s text, this novel is full of
suggestive moments that seem to denote non-normative sexuality. The vampire Lestat’s preference for the
youthful energy of boy blood suggests homosexuality, and the relationship
between Louis and Claudia often feels quite incestuous. The sexualization of Claudia, a child in
form, is also significant. Consider this
recollection from Louis:
There was something dreadfully
sensual about her lounging on the settee in a tiny nightgown of lace and stitched pearls;
she became an eerie and powerful seductress… “Doll,
doll,” I called her. That’s what she was.
A magic doll. Laughter and
infinite intellect and then the
round-cheeked face, the bud
mouth. “Let me dress you, let me brush your hair,” I would say to her out
of old habit, aware of her smiling
and watching me with the thin veil of
boredom over her expression. “Do as you like,” she breathed into my ear as I bent down to fasten her
pear buttons. (Rice 102)
Interview with the Vampire also presents scenes where
sex is a public spectacle – an act to be performed, watched, and/or experienced
en masse. To be clear, these acts are
not always sexual in the normal meaning of the word; they usually do not result
in standard intercourse but in a different type of erotic penetration – that of
the teeth into the flesh. Louis recalls
the time when he was presented with a sexual offering in front of a group of
onlookers, a willing human who derives sexual pleasure from the giving of
blood:
Never
had I felt this, never had I experienced
it, this yielding of a conscious mortal. But before I could push him away for his own sake, I saw the bluish bruise on his tender neck. He was offering it to me now, and I felt the hard strength of his
sex beneath his clothes pressing
against my leg. A wretched gasp escaped my lips, but he bent close, his lips on what must have been so cold, so lifeless for him; and I sank
my teeth into his skin, my body
rigid, that hard sex driving against
me, and I lifted him in passion
off the floor. Wave after wave of his beating heart passed into me as weightless, I rocked with him,
devouring him, his ecstasy, his
conscious pleasure. (Rice 230)
This scene of public feeding between a
same sex pairing, an older man and a younger boy, takes on the feeling of a
sexual exchange even though one does not technically occur. Its voyeuristic audience experiences the
erotic encounter through watching it, much like traditional sexual voyeurs
experience sexual encounters vicariously.
A second erotic display of
violence comes during the “Theatre des Vampires.” During this portion of the novel, Louis and
Claudia have been invited to attend a theatrical performance hosted by a group
of vampires in Paris. They sit in an
audience filled with human theatre-goers expecting to watch a gothic play. However, what the audience receives, although
they do not quite understand as much, is a live drama unfolding before their
eyes. Instead of watching a staged
vampire attack, a fictional narrative about vampires, they sit witnessing a
human woman being sexually molested, seduced, attacked, and slaughtered by a
group of vampires. This group attack
mirrors that of a gang rape. While these
adult-targeted vampire narratives do deliver diverse accounts of sexuality
which can be celebrated, some of their sexual diversity, such as this
collapsing of sex and violence, is worthy of continued analysis and, perhaps,
criticism.
The
only young adult vampire narrative discussed here that delves into
non-normative sexuality is Joss Whedon’s popular television program, Buffy
the Vampire Slayer.[8] The series focuses on the main character,
Buffy, who finds herself living in a city prone to supernatural
monstrosities. Buffy fights to save the
town again and again from a variety of evils.
The most frequent villains are, of course, vampires, but Buffy also
battles against zombies, werewolves, witches, and other creatures as the years
stretch on. In midst of all of these
battles against evil forces, Buffy falls for a set of vampire rivals, Angel and
Spike.
Although the majority of the
relationships throughout the series are heterosexual, the show introduces
bisexuality in season four when Willow and Tara’s relationship begins. Despite
this addition, which many scholars like David Lavery and Rhonda Wilcox have
applauded, the program takes a step backward two seasons later when Spike, a
vampire with whom Buffy has had a love-hate relationship and an escalating
flirtation with throughout the series, attempts to rape Buffy, and she later
forgives him.[9]
Although, overall, the mainstream
vampire texts offer up a more diverse vision of sexuality, the texts (print and
visual) directed at teen audiences most certainly foreground sexuality (albeit
usually heterosexuality) more so than those of mainstream culture. As expected, the young adult romance genre
caters to storylines of teen angst and sexual stirrings, and therefore
consumers receive a profusion of such storylines. Surprisingly, all of the young adult
narratives focus predominately on the sexuality of the female characters to the
extent that they are depicted more often as the more sexually aggressive gender
or, at the very least, the more persistent sexual pursuers.[10] As noted earlier, Bella is the sexual pursuer
in Eclipse and Breaking Dawn.
This notion of the female pursuer is also present in L.J. Smith’s
earlier series.
In 1991 L.J. Smith’s trilogy, The
Vampire Diaries, was published, with a fourth book released a year later
due to fan demand. The series is set in
the fictional town of Fell’s Church, a center of paranormal activity. It follows the life (and death and rebirth)
of Elena Gilbert and the romantic love triangle she enters into with two
vampire brothers, Stefan and Damon Salvatore.
The brothers are a modern-day version of Cain and Abel, and Elena is
attracted to them both for their very different qualities. (This series, like Buffy and Twilight,
suggests that a romantic triangle is a necessary ingredient in any young adult
vampire narrative). With this tug-of-war
romance at the heart of the narrative, it.
is not surprising that sexual longing is a common motif throughout these
books.
In The Vampire Diaries the act of blood exchange is sexualized and Elena is actually the one who first initiates this (“sexual”) encounter:
In The Vampire Diaries the act of blood exchange is sexualized and Elena is actually the one who first initiates this (“sexual”) encounter:
It’s time, Stefan, she
thought. And, very gently, she drew his mouth down again,
this time to her throat. She felt his lips graze her skin, felt his breath warm and cool at
once. Then
she felt the sharp sting. But the pain faded almost instantly. It was replaced by a feeling of pleasure that made her tremble. A great
rushing sweetness filled her, flowing through
her to Stefan (Smith, The Awakening,
238)
Buffy also depicts female characters as being
the more aggressive gender, portraying many of them as seducers and
temptresses. Some examples include Darla
(a character cast as a vampire villain early in the series, who first seduced
and then turned Angel into a vampire), Faith (another vampire slayer, a foil to
Buffy, who attempted to seduce both her best friend, Xander, and her love
interest, Angel), and Anya (a member of Buffy’s friend circle, and also a
mythical vengeance demon, who started her relationship with Xander by seducing
him).
In these teen narratives human
(and vampire) sexuality abounds.
However, this is not the case in the mainstream texts directed toward a
larger, often more adult, audience – at least as far as the humans go. As Demetrakopoulos notes concerning Dracula,
in these texts intended for a larger readership, “all sexuality is
relegated to the vampires” (111). This
difference seems important to note being that throughout time sexualized
characters have often been demonized.
The assignment of sexuality to vampires only in the mainstream
narratives like Dracula and Interview with the Vampire seems to
follow in this tradition. However, the
shift in the young adult narratives to a more sexual character cast that
includes both humans and mythical beings indicates a purposeful departure from
this norm and presents the possibility of reading sexuality as something
positive rather than negative.
However,
this abundance of sexual activity amongst the teenage characters in Twilight,
The Vampire Diaries, and Buffy comes with a price. Despite not damaging the characterizations of
the sexualized participants, all three of the series seem to carry the didactic
warning that sex, be it standard sexual intercourse or sexualized blood
exchanges, is a punishable act. Bella receives
the biblically promised punishment of a painful (and ultimately “life” ending)
pregnancy and childbirth. Elena has
sensual blood exchanges with two brothers, which result in her unintentional
rebirth as a vampire. And Buffy’s
punishment comes a bit more indirectly, when her love, Angel, loses his soul
immediately after they have sex for the first time as a punishment for
experiencing a moment of true happiness.
This underlying motif is not as obvious in the mainstream vampire texts
but it is implied. For example,
Demetrakopoulos argues that Dracula constantly insists “on the dualism
of sexual passion (bad) and sexual innocence (good)” (111). And Jules Law points out that Mina’s survival
is predictable in the text because she is, unlike Lucy, a less sexualized heroine
(986).
Conclusion
It has been the intent of this
essay to demonstrate that Twilight borrows from a long-standing
tradition of narratives criticized for their portrayals of gender and sexuality
and thus inherits similar critiques. In
comparing vampire texts produced in different time periods, directed at
different audiences, and even delivered through different media formats, it is
clear that they all could be found problematic in one way or another. Despite being produced and consumed in
different epochs, many of these texts could be accused of being hostile toward
female sexuality and of being overly concerned with the purity of their female
characters. Also problematic in some of
these storylines are the coupling of sexuality and violence, the policing of
heterosexuality and stereotypical gender roles, and the depiction of sexuality
as punishable. Placing the criticism of
all of these vampire narratives up against each other sheds light onto the
criticism the Twilight series has received, revealing that it is not the
first vampire narrative to be criticized in this way. Reading Twilight alongside of the
other young adult vampire narratives also showcases how some of the problems
readers have with Meyer’s books may stem from its adherence to the norms of the
genre, such as the reliance on heterosexuality and traditional gender
roles. However, in looking at the two
subsets of vampire narratives together, it is also clear that the vampire
narratives have the potential to develop subversive storylines that can
question these very notions. For
example, the adult vampire narratives frequently include non-normative
sexuality and plots that question dominant cultural beliefs about gender. If young adult vampire narratives can adopt
these tactics, they will be less likely to face the firing squads of feminism.
Some scholars have suggested
that vampire narratives reflect the cultural time periods in which they were
crafted, that these tales saturated with gender and sexuality issues reveal
societal shifts concerning feminism. In
this vein it could be argued that the Twilight saga, a cultural artifact
of the early 21st century, is a product of an ideological swing to
conservatism and a period of waning interest in women’s rights within the youth
of the United States. Although this may
be true to some degree, I suggest that it does not fully explain Twilight’s
popularity, nor does it explain the multitude of similarities between it and
the vampire narratives produced before it.
The similar thematic messages present within these narratives, and the
similar gender critiques they have received, suggest that perhaps the world
consuming the Twilight saga is not all that changed from that which read
Rice’s series or Stoker’s canonical text.
Ultimately, the series did not rise to fame because of how well it
articulates any shifting beliefs of the 21st century, but rather it
did so because of how it successfully capitalizes on the long lived practice of
merging the vampire narrative into the young adult romance genre, resulting in
predictable patterns and familiar feminist critiques.
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[1] For
more on this argument, see Terrence Rafferty’s New York Times article,
“In ‘Twilight,’ Love and Pain and the Teenage Vampire Thing” or Carmen Siering
and Katherine Spillar’s Ms. Magazine article, “New Moon, Same Old
Sexist Story.”
[2]
Scholars have long studied this phenomenon among rape victims; a few of
the noteworthy earlier studies include:
Edwin Sutherland’s 1950 piece, “The Sexual Psychopath Laws,” Kurt Weis
and Sandra Borges’s 1973 study, “Victimology and Rape: the Case of the Legitimate Victim,” and
Vickie Rose’s 1977 article, “Rape as a Social Problem: a Byproduct of the Feminist Movement.”
[3] Two articles that highlight this criticism
are Anna’s “What to Expect When You’re Expecting a Vampire” and Hames’s
“Vampires Abstain from Sex, Abortion in Twilight.”
[4] As previously mentioned, cultural critic
Eric Jost found the series to be problematic from a feminist standpoint. The title of his article, “The Twilight of
Feminism,” hints at his fear that this may be an indication of things to come
not only in young adult literature but in the women’s movement as well.
[5] Although
only Twilight actually goes as far as having its young couple married.
[6] Charlaine Harris’s books, The Southern
Vampire Mysteries, would be another example of a mainstream vampire series
that is rife with homosexuality and diverse sexual pairings. This series became the foundation for Alan
Ball’s popular HBO television series True Blood. This story of a
telepathic barmaid who falls in love with a vampire premiered on September 7th,
2008.
[7] I would argue that this narrative moment
serves more as an analogy to a gang rape, rather than “group sex,” being that
the participant is not a willing one.
[8] To be clear, although I am making the
argument that in general young adult vampire narratives rely more heavily on
heterosexual romances, there are examples beyond Whedon’s television show that
offer up alternatives. For example, P.C.
Cast’s House of Night series is a young adult vampire series which
includes depictions of homosexuality among teens.
[9] Elena has a
forced quasi-sexual encounter in The Vampire Diaries as well when she is
coerced into exchanging blood with Damon after he threatened her younger
sister’s life (Smith, The Awakening, 437). The narration of this experience may be even
more troubling than Buffy’s eventual forgiveness since the main character
actually admits to having enjoyed the experience: “He’d made her drink his
blood then. If made was the right
word. She didn’t remember putting up any
resistance or feeling any revulsion. By
then, she had wanted it” (Smith, The Awakening, 439).
[10] While both The Vampire Diaries and
the Twilight saga provide readers with relatively persistent male
pursuers – Jacob who chases after Bella and Damon who chases after Elena –
neither character is successful in his quest while the female chasers do
successfully land their prey – Edward and Stefan.
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