Book Review: The Host by Stephenie Meyer

It was better than Twilight. But that’s really not saying much.

First though: an admission! I actually did enjoy aspects of this book. I thought the idea behind it was very interesting, and it did keep me interested throughout. However, it made me very very angry. Mostly because of the types of characters Stephenie Meyer promotes and idolises. Great idea, shame it was written by her.

I would love to see the day when Stephenie Meyer realises that a love interest does not need to be an older man who physically assaults the main character. In The Host, the main character has two love interests (sound familiar?), one who tries to strangle her with his bare hands, the other who repeatedly knocks her around, causing her physical pain and injury. How romantic! I can barely contain my hope that I will one day meet a man just like Jared or Ian. And they fight over her, too! There is nothing more romantic than that!

Sleepless nights…

I’ve been thinking about love. Love the way it is shown in so many of the films and novels that I see and read every year. The kind of love that is all-encompassing, that far surpasses everything else in its breathtaking beauty. The kind of love that it seems every girl or woman dreams of having. Doesn’t she? Whether she is six, twenty-six, fifty-six or any age in between, every one of us seems to have this deep desire for a love that can survive anything. Well, that’s what popular culture tells us, anyway.

I thought that I was somehow immune to this desire. I dismissed this type of passionate love as something that only happens in stories and films and told myself that I was content with what the real world could give me. But over several recent sleepless nights I began to wonder.