This book is killing me. I'm finally about half way through it and it gets more annoying as I go along. Really, I think the plot itself would be ok if not for the horrid writing.
So, Bella's off to an unknown destination with Edward. We got to hear a completely useless exchange between the two of them as to why she had to drive her car. Charlie would know. Can't tell Charlie who she's going with. If he saw her car still home, he'd wonder. They had this elaborate back and forth about how Edward would get to her house without his car. Who cares? Not relevant! Why can't they just get going already? If her car would have been some necessary addition to their little outing in the meadows of Washington, fine. But IT DOESN'T! Oh, and if I hear one more thing about the fabulous Phoenix weather, I'm flushing this book down the toilet. She mentions this blouse that she wears in Phoenix "in the dead of winter". Um, there's no such thing. Phoenix has no "dead winter". If anything, that's when the plants get a chance to recover from the hell of summer. What she means is the middle of winter or the height of winter--the peak of winter, whatever. Winters are only dead in places where it gets really cold. We have no really cold days here--not ever. Besides that, who cares what you're wearing? Stop telling me all about your clothes. It's not important!
Sigh. I'm trying to decide if I should push through this book in the hopes that I'll be finished before I go to the hospital or if I'm better off being completely captive to it during my long, dull, days of recovery where I have nothing else to do, so I might as well read this dreadful book. Can't decide...
And I'm REALLY appalled the the inside back cover of this book lists the author as one of the most promising new writers of 2005. NO NO NO!!!