“Beautifully Broken” continues where we left off; Bill kills some werewolves, Tara almost dies, and Sookie cries on Eric’s manly Viking shoulder. (Okay, maybe the last bit was a stretch. But she does cry, and he feels it because he’s had her blood.)
There is new soft-core vampire p0rn on my television, and this makes me happy. Maybe I’m a sucker for “paranormal romance” or am just really shallow, but True Blood (and the Sookie Stackhouse books) tends to entertain me. Even when I don’t agree with everything they say.
I’m not sure if episode 3×01 “Bad Blood” grabbed me in the way other episodes of this show have. Maybe it’s because I’ve read the books, and I am really watching to see the differences in Alan Ball’s interpretation. Or perhaps it’s because the big drama Continue reading “Reviews True Blood 3×01 “Bad Blood””
I really thought my vampire thing was over. I read all Anne Rice’s books through middle school and high school. And I’ve been completely obsessed with Buffy: the Vampire Slayer and its spin-off Angel for years. Like let me sing you the musical, go out cosplaying, and attend fancons obsessive. Then my friend Gretchen insists I watch True Blood.
Both Charlaine Harris’ The Southern Vampire Mysteries books and the True Blood TV series have their flaws. They aren’t high literature by any means, and clearly fall into the category of beach-reading for the novels and trashy-TV for the show. The actors constantly drop their accents and Harris goes on and on about Sookie’s less-than-stylish outfits. And I’ve take to randomly calling out “Buuhill!” and “Ssucky” in mockery.
The first season of True Blood basically follows Dead Until Dark‘s plot. I whipped through the book knowing what was going to happen around every corner. Some of the little changes I liked better than others. When I got the second book, Living Dead in Dallas, I stumbled a bit with it, and likewise, I felt the second season stumbled. I’d been warned this was the weakest book in the series.
But what I couldn’t get over was the homophobia in Living Dead in Dallas. This book made me forever grateful for Alan Ball’s flimsy second season fixing the missteps the book took. Neither are gems, even in the vampire-porn genre, but True Blood‘s Season Two isn’t as offensive. Continue reading “Homophobia in the Sookie Stackstackhouse Books and True Blood’s Response”