The Not-Short-Enough Fifth Fail of Stephenie Meyer: An Eclipse Fanfiction The Short Second Life of Bree Tanner: An Eclipse Novella (yes, apparently there was a need to make the title ten words long) is the - we hope to god - final installment in one of the worst series the world has ever seen. It is a novella, 175 pages long, set in the middle of Eclipse, for no discernible reason other than to millk the cash-cow for all it's worth. It was released in June 2010.
pile of crud novella, we learn about the disposable chick from Eclipse Bree Tanner, who has been turned into a sparklepire by Riley. This book had several redeeming points: we did not have to listen to Bella's whining, and Edward was conspicuously absent. With only two "glower"s and NO chagrin!!! it is one of the less stylistically irritating of Meyer's books.
Bree is a fifteen year old girl, who has been sparklepire-ized for the purpose of killing Bella Swan along with other teens, all of whom are gutter trash and juvenile delinquents, because they won't be missed by any families. She likes this other Meyerpire named Diego, who is a cheerful, funny guy faintly reminiscent of Jacob Black. They make ninja jokes and try to figure out what's really going on with Riley. For some reason that is never really explained Riley tells his army that they will burn if they step in the sun. Bree and Diego find that this is not true, so they finally begin to suspect there might be something just slightly off about a godlike superbeing who raises and army of expendable people to take out one little human chick. Alas, cheerful Diego is killed offscreen by Riley and Victoria. Bree, being a total idiot, doesn't figure this out until the end of the book. Also, for some reason there's a vampire named Fred who has the "ability" to gross people out. We submit that he could do this just as well by bathing irregularly and wearing sweaty gym socks. This probably replaces Marcus' power as Worst Power Ever.
One dollar from each book sold goes to
the Cullenists some charity stuff. There is some debate of what is most shocking: that Meyer actually donates money to anything, that she managed to write a book that was under 200 pages, or that she did it without including the word "chagrin." As per usual, the story felt thin and a little weak and muddled, like half a can of diet soda mixed with water, but at least this time she had the good grace not to include too much raw sewage.
"So we're walking disco balls." -Diego