For those who still care, this post may contain a few Twilight and True Blood spoilers.
I have to confess that fell victim to the vampire craze. Despite having more middle-aged knowledge of Ann Taylor than Anne Rice, I plunged right into the deep end when my late-teen daughters insisted that I read Stephanie Meyers’ Twilight Series. I, too, became mildly captivated with Bella and Edward’s unconventional love affair. From their first meeting in biology (or whatever class that was) to their marriage, parenthood, and Bella’s journey into humane blood sucking, I was there. After all, who doesn’t like to contemplate the slippery slope of loving something that could accidentally kill you? Who could resist a creature that captivates every essence of what’s awesome about having senses? They smell good, sound good, look good, and apparently, some sparkle. Can Frankenstein’s monster do that for you? How about a rotting zombie? Let’s face it, in spite of cute little Taylor Lautner’s decent performance as Jacob, you know he’s going to smell something like a wet dog in the sack. Vampires rule in the supernatural romance realm–they just do.
A few years later, during a mother-daughter beach week, my adult daughter introduced me to Charlaine Harris’Southern Vampire Series, True Blood. These short novels were perfect for under-the-umbrella, feet-in-the-sand, light reading. I likened them to a supernatural Harlequin Romance Series–not that I’d ever actually admit (out loud) to stooping to the low readability level of a Harlequin Romance to know.
After the beach week, I continued to indulge in Harris’ series. The love/lust story between Bill and Sookie and, eventually, Eric and Sookie, captivated me–so much so, that after reading the sixth book in the series, and having to wait an entire year for the seventh to be finished, I wrote my own in the interim. Two hundred twelve pages of plot twists and love scenes featuring Eric and Sookie; after all, once you’ve enter the super-sized nerdom of writing fan fiction, it’s your world, squirrel. My few friends that I shared it with, admitted that not only had I captured Harris’ style, but I’d penned the love story that they, too, were hoping for.
My fascination of vampire/human relationships was heightened when our cable company offered a free promotional week of premium channels. With the world of HBO being my oyster, I quickly used our On Demand feature to seek out the True Blood series. There they were, big as life on my 47 inch; Bill, Sookie, Eric, and the gang, doing all of the things I’d read about, and more. Producer, Allen Ball, had been given the rights to the plot and characters and created his own version of life in Bon Temps that veered from the books. Viking-like actor, Alexander Skarsgard, brought Eric to life, and cute little Anna Paquin proved to be the perfect Sookie. By the end of the week, I’d caught up on three seasons and signed up for HBO to enjoy a fourth.
Unfortunately, that fourth season is where True Blood and I began to realize that the licking flames of our whirlwind romance were tempering to a slow burn–much like a charcoal grill a few hours after the marshmallows have been roasted. and the graham crackers and chocolate have been put away. Once the witch’s spell was broken, and Eric regained his memory, his relationship with Sookie plunged downhill and I lost interest.
Though I’ve continued to watch, I can’t recall many plot details of seasons five or six. Things began to get beyond ridiculous with the birth of “Bill-lith” and when Eric burst into flames in the season six finale, I hardly rolled my eyes.
Yet, last night, I tuned in to the first episode of True Blood’s seventh and final season. Completely un-captivated by the cold open, that usually hooks most viewers, I had to ask my husband for a recap because I was picking at a mosquito bite. The rest of the hour was spent texting my best friend and glancing at the screen periodically. I’ve discovered that True Blood has become a tired, old hooker who should have hung up her heels and hopped a city bus to the nearest clinic for VD testing, STAT.
Though True Blood’s vamps no longer hold a place of esteem, or possibly even respect, in my fantasies, I’ll be sticking it out for season seven. I’m a finisher, a hoper, a dreamer and a believer that all things are possible. Perhaps, I’m conscious in the dimension where Eric is found, and he and Sookie find a way to make a go of their unconventional pairing. If not, I’ll be there to offer that spent, old hooker a ride to the clinic.
Are you watching True Blood this season? Are you loving it, or feeling “meh?”