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Could 'Breaking Dawn' be more feminist than the other 'Twilight' books? (spoiler)
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*Spoiler alerts for the entire collection*
For those who have read Stephenie Meyer's entire Twilight saga, you may have noticed a pattern of the main character Bella, whose voice we hear throughout every book with one exception in Breaking Dawn where her beloved friend Jacob (the werewolf who loves her, and she him -- in 'that' way) has his own narrative. Still, it is all about Bella. And with Bella's voice, comes Bella's perspective, soaked into our consciousness like water to a sponge.
Beginning with the first book, Twilight, we are introduced to many of the main characters through Bella's teenaged eyes -- Edward, her powerful vampire love interest; the rest of his immortal 'family', the Native American Jacob of the Quileute tribe, Bella's own human family, new high school friends, and some additional dangerous crowds and antagonists who threaten her life.
As for our heroine's general state of being, she is consistently portrayed as vulnerable and helpless, not only to the ones she trusts, but also to those who will obviously sacrifice her for their own gratification. As captivating as the initial romantic story can be as Edward, her dark knight boyfriend, swoops in repeatedly to save her from the deadly schemes of others -- while otherwise bounding away whenever he cannot hold himself at bay in the presence of her tempting and delicious smell -- Bella's general identity as a victim-to-be can be slightly bothersome for some readers, male and female alike.
But we all keep reading as if addicted to a new literary drug because it is such an entertaining and clever reflection of many of our own personal and cultural ideals about relationships, courtship, gender, and love.
So we move on to the next book, New Moon where we are given yet another powerful story about Bella's depression at having been abandoned by Edward, only to console herself in the company of her new best friend Jacob, who adores her and ends up being a werewolf from a long line of shape-shifting ancestors who default on the wolf form -- a guardian of human life and a natural enemy of vampires, even the 'vegetarian' ones like Edward who live off the blood of animals.
Like many women that we love to hate, Bella becomes halfway suicidal in the second installment as she continues her dependence on the comforts of yet another man (Jacob), one who saves her from death and other dangers on a regular basis. As can be predicted, she is forever helpless in her wallowing despair. Because of that quality alone, many feminists would probably critique this book the most due to how Bella's entire existence revolves around Edward and Jacob, and how she is otherwise lifeless and worthless without them. Still, like the stereotypical and traditional 'good woman', she has dinner on the table at the appropriate time every day, lifeless attitude and all, for when her father comes home from work.
When Edward finally re-enters the story at the end of the second book, having left originally for the deluded purposes of saving Bella from his own dark and violent world, he appears to be too late. Or so he thinks, when his clairvoyant sister Alice's vision is revealed to him in such a way as to lead him to believe that Bella is dead, at which point he heads to the only place that can ensure him an effective death of his own: the headquarters of vampire power and politics in Italy, where the Volturi coven reins and keeps the human and immortal world in balance.
As Bella and Alice arrive by plane to prove Bella's general well-being and save the day (and night), we are reminded again of Bella's fragile position in life: a sacrificial lamb entering a veritable slaughterhouse; this time, she comes to save her love from the suicide she herself has been flirting with throughout the entire book. But at least she is finally doing the saving, in her own way, for once in the story. Perhaps now she is not so weak after all, we conjecture, and we remind ourselves of the other strong female characters: the immortal ones, of course.
Building from the happy ending of New Moon, the third book Eclipse begins as Bella finishes up her senior year in high school, struggling within a frustrating love triangle between Edward and Jacob -- two overpowering male characters who love, protect, and control her fiercely. Still, she is human and vulnerable. Not only that, but she is often portrayed as a child under Edward's protection who may not be allowed to put herself in danger on her own accord, a substantial reason for feminists to critique this novel just as vigorously as the second volume.
Danger is of course rampant in the third book as well as all of the others, as a large pack of newborn vampires are created for the sole purpose of aiding one vengeful female vampire in finally killing Bella, but to no avail, as Edward, Jacob, the werewolf pack, and the rest of the Cullen family (which blessedly include some warrior women) defend her safety to the end.
Then finally, the fourth book Breaking Dawn entertains us even more, but with a real bonus: Bella can finally take care of herself . . . when she becomes a vampire . . . after she is cleverly asked to marry Edward before they are allowed to engage in any sexual (or vampire) activity. This is of course to preserve some kind of tradition in an unorthodox world, and, as Stephenie Meyer inserts her own subtle Mormon beliefs, to preserve some of their individual virtue, and save their souls if in case they can even qualify for a heavenly afterlife as vampires.
Religious ideology aside, Bella eventually becomes the strongest vampire in her midst, an asset that is compounded by an extremely unusual and powerful gift of shielding protection, a tool that she uses to help save the Cullen family, her own human-vampire hybrid daughter, the werewolf packs, and other friendly vampires from the power-hungry Volturi coven who make a grand and judicial visit on the pretense of effecting justice when they truly desire conquest: acquiring the talents of specific vampires to bolster their own power.
Though Bella works as a young vampire in tandem to other powerful and friendly immortals -- many of whom are strong and talented female characters -- she starts her journey into immortality with a considerable amount of bruises. In fact, she is almost torn apart by the mysterious fetus growing at impossibly rapid rates inside her body, destroying her internal organs and draining her of energy all the while. As she refuses to abandon the pregnancy with her new mother's instinct, many readers are initially led into frustration over her weak position yet again: more frail and vulnerable than ever as a seeming parasite consumes her from the inside.
Nevertheless, toward the end of the pregnancy and once the baby girl 'Renesmee' is born and the proud parents begin to hear her thoughts, the readers are made to be happy about the situation -- that Bella chose life over abortion: despite the fact that killing the 'little monster' was supported and even urged by most of the other characters, Edward included.
Though some feminists would argue that the fourth book promotes anti-choice messages about the sanctity of a fetus' life over a mother's life with a special reference to Renesmee's abnormal birth, one that obviously endangers Bella's life, it may not be that simple, even though Bella does die a gruesome and bloody death, after which point she is revived and transformed into an immortal with vampire venom.
Since the heroine lives to be stronger and more beautiful once she refuses to terminate a pregnancy, can we all assume that the author's underlying message is that a woman is always better to keep a pregnancy? Even if the results can be disastrous?
Maybe.
On the other hand, one can also point out Bella's obvious choice in the matter: while others try to coerce her into making a decision she does not want to make, she guards her own wishes and chooses to keep the pregnancy -- not against her will, but against the wishes of others. In that sense, the book is pro-choice in terms of Bella deciding the fate of her own body for better or for worse.
Aside from alternate interpretations on ostensible pro-choice issues, a greater sense of women's empowerment is suggested to the readers not only through the medium of Bella's new mental and physical strength, but also through her strong maternal instincts -- qualities that are often largely unappreciated in American culture. Motherhood indeed is one of the hardest jobs in the world, and Bella does the double, if not the trip day's worth of work: a great metaphor for how women are expected to be supernatural in their ability to be good mothers, become stronger, be flawlessly beautiful, fight various battles, and lead a normal and productive career life at the same time. Again, an interesting and poignant reflection of how we see ourselves: or hope to see ourselves.
In the end, Bella lives happily ever after for eternity. As the story comes to close, we are happy to have read the captivating saga, and perhaps sad that it may be over. But long after the collection is put aside, some may continue to ponder the lingering questions about why we ravenously devour an epic that both annoys and excites us with its familiar plot of love, sacrifice, and traditional gender roles. Perhaps some of us will embrace the magic and drama without worrying about social and political implications while others who adamantly call themselves progressive will feel guilty for wistfully yearning for the supernatural yet traditional existence of Bella Swan. Still, other readers will feel relatively content with the balance of power and the ultimate result, despite their own misgivings at certain parts. After all, as much as books do affect culture and consciousness, a good story can simply be appreciated as a good story.
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Juliette Frette
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