Tag Archives: paranormal pondering

A History of Famous Vampire Books Part One – “Have you ever actually read Dracula?”

08 Thursday Nov 2012

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Have you ever actually read Dracula? I’ve been meaning to write this post for a while, but the fact that today, Google has a very cool picture which tells me it’s Bram Stoker’s 165th birthday, made me think that it was a good day to get on and do it.

I’m assuming that if you’re reading my blog (which fundamentally hinges on the fact that I write paranormal romance) that to a greater or lesser degree, like me, you’re a fan of vampire novels. And I think we can take it as read that Dracula, whilst not the inventor of the genre*, is the most famous  and influential vampire novel  ever written. Despite these two facts, I bet there’s a good chance you haven’t actually read it. You’ve probably seen a film or two. You’ve probably read spoofs or books that claim to be inspired by it. You probably have an idea in your head of the plot being based around visitors to a spooky eastern European castle with a suave but deadly host.

Back in the days when I sort of had an agent, they asked me if I’d ever read Dracula, and almost to my surprise, I realised I hadn’t. They hugely recommended it, so I decided to take advantage of the fact that Kindle lets you download out of copyright books for free (just one of the many reasons I love them – seriously, if you haven’t already, buy an e-reader) and get myself a copy.

I had to steel myself to read it. I was expecting it to either be painfully dry (I’m not a big fan of Victorian literature on the whole) or else painfully cheesy and clichéd. Guess what? It was genuinely brilliant – scary, romantic and well-written, the sort of book where you’re cheering the good characters on.

There’s a section where Dracula comes each night to feed off a young woman. Each night she gets weaker and weaker and each morning is given a rudimentary blood transfusion by a doctor acquaintance. Each night her friends do their best to protect her with crucifixes and white garlic flowers, each night the vampire somehow outwits them and drinks more deeply from her.  I wasn’t expecting my jaded twenty first century brain to be unnerved by something written more than a century ago, but these scenes, with their horrible sense of desperation and powerlessness, are some of the scariest things I’ve read in years. The diary of the ship’s captain, trapped at sea and horribly aware that one of his crew is being killed each night, is also pretty nerve racking.

Equally, whilst it’s not a paranormal romance in the modern sense of the word (there are certainly no human women having sexy time with this vampire), there are beautifully touching and romantic scenes,  whether it’s one character’s longing to get back to his fiancée when he’s trapped in Dracula’s castle, or most tear-jerking of all, another character deciding that he must be the one to stake his now vampiric fiancée to save her soul. At the same time, the link between sex and blood that tends to be made more explicit (in both senses of the word) in modern vampire novels, is very much there. When Dracula is biting his poor female victims, you definitely get a sense that there is more than mere hunger going through his mind.

A few fun facts:

  • I’m sure it’s not just me that imagines the entirety of the novel to be taking place in a castle in Eastern Europe. In fact, that’s only the first couple of chapters.
  • Dracula is killed with a metal knife, not a stake through the heart.

So this week, whilst it’s cold and dark outside, why not put down whatever modern vampire book you’re reading (apart from Oxford Blood, obviously!!) and indulge yourself with the king of the genre. It’ll be harder work than the latest Charlaine Harris or Laurell K Hamilton, but I promise you it will be worth it.

So, to return to my first question, have you read Dracula? If so, what did you think? Classic vampire novel or outdated?

*Before anyone tries to get clever, I know about Carmilla and Varney the Vampire and all those other nineteenth century vampire novels. Try taking a nineteenth century literature and culture module at Oxford and not having them thrust down your throat. But let’s face it, the may have come first, but Dracula made the genre.

**The cartoon near the top of the page is from: http://www.harkavagrant.com/index.php?id=285 Check out that page for more cute Dracula comic strips, and the site more generally for fab historical and literary inspired comics. So we’re totally clear, the picture totally belongs to Kate Beaton of Hark, A Vagrant, not me, but her website says it’s okay to use them as long as they’re properly cited.

Gunpowder, treason, and mulled wine

05 Monday Nov 2012

Posted by in Personal, Uncategorized

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Well last week I wrote about Halloween, my favourite day of October. Today, less than a week later, it’s time for my favourite day of November – Bonfire Night.

I always love this week of the year, the way that, if you’re lucky, you get proper autumn days in between the disappointing end of summer and the proper, soul-sapping cold that hits not long afterwards. I love the fact that, in Britain at least, the two events run together, and nearly everyone enthusiastically celebrates two of the most random festivals that the calendar has to offer – a barely disguised pagan festival and a celebration of a thwarted seventeenth century terrorist attack. I love the fact that otherwise sensible people spend one weekend dressing up as devils followed by another weekend standing in the freezing cold watching fireworks, and, if you’re lucky enough to live somewhere really traditional, burning figures in effigy.

There’s something beautifully English about Bonfire Night. Mention fireworks in America, and everyone seems to think of Independence Day – barbeques, long summer days and celebration. In China they seem to be associated with New Year – again, a straightforward celebration. But mention fireworks to anyone in England and they’ll instantly think of 5th November. For all the colour, it’s an oddly dark occasion – let’s not forget that we’re celebrating the thwarting of a plot in which someone very nearly blew up the King and the entirety of parliament, and the fact that he was tortured to death for his pains.

I suppose it’s just cultural conditioning, but to me, it seems like the most fitting time of year for bonfires and fireworks. There’s something magical about a bonfire on a cold night, mulled wine or cider in hand, shivering slightly whilst gasping at the fireworks in the darkened sky. In my mind, it fits nearly with Halloween for reasons beyond mere temporal proximity – the idea of fires as the days get colder and the nights longer seems oddly ancient,  redolent of an attempt to keep evil spirits away.

Anyway, moving from the paranormal and onto the posh,  today I put these rather spooky thoughts aside and went to the most wonderful firework party I think I’ve ever attended. The future in-laws live in a house in central London with access to a garden square, and today, they were having a Guy Fawkes night celebration just for keyholders. In my experience, celebrating bonfire night is usually a choice between a few half-hearted fireworks in our own garden, or standing in a crowd of thousands in a public park, straining to see what was going on.

This was in the garden square, which is wooded, beautiful at the best of times, and tonight, lit with a combination of candles, flaming torches and fairylights. (I’ve been before. It might have mildly influence the clearing where the Cavaliers always hold their Summer Party). There were only about a hundred people, but it had the sort of rockets you usually only get at public events. I’m such a kid about fireworks, and these had my oohing and arhing like you wouldn’t believe. And to top it all off, there was absolutely delicious (and worryingly strong for a Monday) mulled wine and fab gourmet hotdogs, plus lots of adorable tiny rich children running around waving sparklers.