Forks, Washington, up on the Olympic Peninsula, was a seriously depressed, mildewed-around-the-edges remnant of the logging industry when I last visited six or seven years ago. Ten feet (!) of rainfall a year will do that, I guess. Then the "Twilight" books happened, written by an Arizona author who'd never set foot on the Peninsula, and the nutty fans and their wallets arrived. Both were quickly embraced by the fine citizens of Forks, who know a good thing when they see it. Yay for glittery-vampire-inspired commerce!
