"I don't even know if Stephenie Meyer could tell you why she was so fixated on this very, very contained story [The Twilight] with obsessive characters. It's just an anomaly. That's a terrible answer. I don't know."

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A sea-green sky: lamps blossoming white. This is marginal land: fields of strung wire, of treadless tyres in ditches, fridges dead on their backs, and starving ponies cropping the mud. It is a landscape running with outcasts and escapees, with Afghans, Turks and Kurds: with scapegoats, scarred with bottle and burn marks, limping from the cities with broken ribs. The life forms here are rejects, or anomalies: the cats tipped from speeding cars, and the Heathrow sheep, their fleece clotted with the stench of aviation fuel.

— Hilary Mantel