It’s official: I have become an old woman who says “back in the day”. At 11:45 last night, I found myself hesitating on the way to the bookstore. “It’ll be overrun with kids,” I said. “I’m going to look strange.”
“You didn’t worry about Harry Potter,” my boyfriend pointed out. “We drove all over town until we found a 24-hour grocery store that was selling it.”
“That’s different,” I replied. “Lots of adults like Harry Potter. No one I work with has even heard of Twilight.”
He shrugged, “Up to you.”
“Damn it. Lets go.”
We arrived a few minutes before copies were trotted out and took our places at the end of a long line. I was right, there weren’t many people my age – mostly just parents who had accompanied their kids.
As the line slowly advanced, we passed shiny displays of various teen vamp books. “Wowzer,” I exclaimed, “it’s like a whole genre. Look, there’s even one called ‘Vamp Academy’. I don’t know whether to thank Joss Whedon or smack him.”
“It just seems a little creepy. When I was reading Anne Rice I was considered a freak – a big freak.”
I wasn’t exaggerating. Though the local bookstore carried Anne Rice books, it seemed like I was the only one in my small high school who read them. It was the sort of small town where Wiccans were thought to worship the devil and homosexuality was considered a choice. I suspect my fondness for Bram Stoker and Lestat was a gray area – they couldn’t find anything wrong with it but that didn’t make it right.
I sighed. “It’s jut not fair. They get to enjoy vampire books without any persecution.”
I’m still mulling over whether or not that’s a good thing. In the meantime I’m going to start yelling at kids to stay off my lawn while fantasizing that, when I was young, “politicians were noble, prices were reasonable, and children respected their elders".