WHEN I was but a young sproutling, I was obsessed with vampires.
It began with Anne Rice’s Interview With A Vampire and pretty much spread from there.
And somewhere between Morganville, The House of Night series and The Vampire Diaries (the real one not that telly nonsense), I found Twilight.
I was late to the Twilight mania. In fact by the time I finally got round to reading the series, Breaking Dawn had just been released.
It’s strange to think so much craziness came from four books and five cringey films.
Now don’t get me wrong, I loved Twilight. To this day, Eclipse remains to be one of my all time favourite books.
But the series had serious issues. Bella is a marmite character – one you either hate or love – and Renesmee and Breaking Dawn…well let’s just not go there.
The Cullens and The Quiletes on the other hand, I just love ‘em.
So I was so excited when Stephanie Meyer announced Life and Death. Finally, a book that could fix all of the issues I had with the Twilight Series!
I’m (just a wee bit) ashamed to admit, I preferred Life and Death over Twilight. After all, there would be no Life and Death if there was no Twilight. But for me, the story was so much better, the ending so much more satisfying and not a single vampire baby to be seen.
Maybe that’s because I’m reading this over a decade after I first read Twilight, maybe Beau spoke to me more than Bella ever did. Or maybe I just wish I was Edythe.
But maybe it’s not a bad thing to reread the books from my past.