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Why I Love Vampire Novels so much – parts six and seven – metaphors and sex

24 Thursday Jan 2013

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Finally, it’s the last day of my “Why I like vampire novels” mini-series. We’ve had history, folklore, romance, perfect characters and awful characters. And to finish, here is one fairly obscure one – a metaphor for everything – and what is for many people, probably the most obvious reason – the erotic power. 

Part Six – A Metaphor for Everything

Most commonly, vampirism tends to be interpreted as a metaphor for sex. All those penetrating fangs and fallen women tell their own story. Beyond that though, they seem to have been as a metaphor for all sorts of things: foreign invasion’ AIDS, the transition from child to teenager or teenager to adult , homosexuality, race. As long as the story doesn’t hit the reader over the head with this connection, I think this can add a real frisson to a novel.

In The Cavaliers, vampirism is fundamentally all about class. You could basically replace every reference to “vampire” with “rich, upper class male.” Underneath all the paranormal romance, there’s a gentle dig at the astonishing statistics regarding the number of Cabinet Ministers who went to Oxford and Eton, and who in many cases, were members of elite dining societies like the one the book portrays. I loved Oxford from day one, but in the first few weeks, everything felt so utterly alien, that if someone reliable had told me that some of the students were vampires, I could almost have believed it. 

Part Seven – The erotic power

Let’s face it, vampires are sexy. Fair enough, a big part of that is the tendency of modern authors to make them incredibly good looking and in many cases to liberally sprinkle their books with sex scenes (I’m undoubtedly guilty on both counts!). However, I also think it goes beyond that. Dracula for example is in no way intended as a romantic hero, and his description makes him sound quite hideous, but rather like the devil in Paradise Lost, there’s still something about him, especially in his scenes with the lady characters, that draws the reader towards him.

The  Vampire Diaries was the first vampire series I read, and it still holds a special place in my heart, however many nominally more grown up or technically better written books I read. In that series, there are no sex scenes at all, but there are scenes of talking, of kissing, and of sharing blood, that are some of the most romantic and yes, erotic, scenes I’ve ever come across.

I think it probably comes down to a combination of a highly charged power imbalance between the human and the vampire, the forbidden nature of what’s going on, and the ever present hint of danger.

Oh and then there’s the blood-taking or blood-sharing (depending on your individual’s vampire’s tastes and manners). I can’t quite come up with a sensible reason for why I like these scenes so much. Even allowing for mesmerisation, it would be pretty horrible in real life (I honestly nearly bleed to death once – long story – and it wasn’t sexy at all) but they work for me and presumably a lot of other readers. I suppose it’s more of the same – power, danger, it being forbidden – only much more so than mere sex. I think all of this is yet another reason that so many readers of vampire fiction also seem to enjoy the new crop (sorry!) of BDSM novels – to a lesser extent, the kinky sex brings some of these elements into play.

With blood though, I think there are two final elements. First blood seems to have had a special resonance in many societies, whether it’s human sacrifices, drinking cow’s blood to become a man, women on their period being considered either unclean or magical, or communion wine. In this context, the idea of someone drinking your blood is simultaneously repellent and magical, part of a grand mystical tradition and utterly outside of the realm of normal human experience. And by some sort of weird transubstantiation, thousands of readers turn that into something sexy. 

 

Phew, that’s my list done. Did I miss any of your personal reasons for loving vampire novels?

 

Why I Like Vampire Novels so much – Parts Four and Five – Perfection and cads

23 Wednesday Jan 2013

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Every night this week, I’m writing about some of the reasons I love reading and writing vampire novels. If you haven’t already read my intro, check it out here, so we’re clear what sort of vampire books I’m talking about – Introduction

Tonight, it’s reasons four and five, a contradictory pair:

4 – Perfect people that you can buy into

5 – Utter cads that you can forgive 

Perfect people that you can buy into

I have a confession to make. I really like characters who are extraordinary. Who are beautiful and charming and intelligent. Who are either extravagantly lovely, or better yet, utter bitches and cads (see point below). I love characters, whether villain, hero or something in-between, that you know are always going to win, going to either outsmart or outfight everyone around them.

Some people seem to like characters who are ordinary and believable, but I think there are enough plain-looking, pleasant enough  people in casual clothes in real life. Oxford Blood once got a really negative review that said, “they’re all so beautiful and amazing and rich and everyone wants to be them and wants to be with her…sickening.” Whilst I emphatically respect the right of readers to give their honest opinion in reviews,  I couldn’t help thinking that the bit of the blurb which says, “The Cavaliers are the most elite society at Oxford University – rich, powerful, and beautiful,” might have given them fair warning that it wasn’t going to be full of average, flawed types with human failings!

I also think that it’s far easier to make this sort of thing work in vampire fiction than most other genres.  As long as you buy into the trope which says that becoming a vampire makes you attractive, immortal, invulnerable to most injuries and have super strength, then it sort of makes sense that the text is lingering on their good points and most characters are either admiring them, fearing them or swooning at their feet.  And as long as it’s backed up by plot, that’s quite fun.

This can be done well with an entirely human character, but it’s harder to suspend your disbelief quite enough to revel in the fun of it. When a character is completely undone by the charm and beauty of an unearthly beautiful vampire, I can see her point. If they’re acting in the same way about a human man, however hot and rich he’s meant to be, I always feel the urge to tell them to get a grip. 

Utter cads that you can forgive

When I talk above about perfect people, I mean in terms of their looks, strength, intelligence etc. Where I do like there to be some flaws is in their personality. 

In researching history, I have a strange soft spot for cads. You know, the sort of men that charm every woman who comes across them, treat them harshly then disappear.

My university thesis was meant to be a broadly feminist text about a woman called Jane Osbaldeston, who despite being female made a real impact in nineteenth century politics. I utterly loved her.

Unfortunately, I loved her charming but caddish son even more. This is a man who stays at a friend’s house and has a threesome with his daughters, who notices a lady at a ball doesn’t have a flower so rides for two hours to his greenhouse and back to get her one, who abandons a successful political career because he prefers hunting, who despite having a huge fortune runs up jawdropping debts.  Several of my fellow students accused me of writing a Mills and Boon novel rather than a thesis, though the very serious tutor loved it. This George Osbaldeston probably wins my vote, but there are all sorts of historical figures like him that I love to read about.

The only problem is, I’ve met people like this in real life. When I was younger and sillier, I’ve even developed crushes on them, even acted on those crushes. And the truth is, unlike in history books, they’re not actually that fun, and unlike in fiction, you’re pretty unlikely to change them for the better.

Increasingly, when I read about caddish types in modern fiction, I want to hurt them, and I want to get the heroine safely away and find her a nice friendly beta male. I think the worst example I’ve come across recently was in a book called Consequences, about a hot billionaire (is there any other type in fiction?!) who kidnaps a woman and repeatedly abuses her, physically, sexually and emotionally. At his worst, he beats her up so badly (not in a “kinky sex gone wrong” way, just in an “angry psychopath with no self control” way) that she is in a coma for two weeks. And yet, gradually, the heroine starts to fall for him, and rather more worryingly, from looking at the reviews, so do a fair proportion of readers. I think I’m in a minority here (there are endless five star reviews), but I can’t remember the last time I hated a book so much. The horrible male lead isn’t the only reason for this, but it’s a major part of it. I couldn’t stand the fact that anyone could like a character like that.

And then, I took a deep breath and thought about some of my characters. To take probably the most dramatic example, George Stewart has, in no particular order: killed Harriet’s cousin, mesmerised her to allow him to take advantage of her for her blood, stolen her protective necklace, horribly injured her boyfriend in a duel and tricked her into forging a sacred blood bond with him. And yet she still really rather likes him. But I (and hopefully readers) can somehow overlook all of that, because he’s a vampire. He’s not subject to the usual rules. You don’t read about him and think about that jerk that slept with you and never called, because he is an intriguing other.

I don’t think this is just a bias for my own writing either. Every bad boy in every vampire novel tends to do the sort of things that would lead any sane woman to call the police if they were an everyday human, but readers and other characters alike can overlook this.

I should emphasise that unlike the other entries, which I think are entirely positive, this one makes me feel a bit uncomfortable. I’m not sure we should be fetishising badness, even under cover of vampirism, but lusting after bad boys and admiring bad girls is a guilty pleasure of mine, and so much pleasanter when it has that detachment from real life that the supernatural allows. 

If you enjoyed this, check back tomorrow for the final reasons – erotic power, and a metaphor for everything. 

Why I Like Vampire Novels so much – Part Three – Romance with meaningful tension

22 Tuesday Jan 2013

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Every night this week, I’m writing about some of the reasons I love reading and writing vampire novels. If you haven’t already read my intro, check it out here, so we’re clear what sort of vampire books I’m talking about – Introduction

Tonight it’s reason three, romance with meaningful tension, which gets a post all of its own.

Part Three: Romance with meaningful tension

Although I believe that there can be good books in any genre if the writer’s talented enough, as a general rule, straightforward romance novels are one of my least favourite reads. It’s not that I’m cynical about love – having recently got engaged I’d say quite the opposite – but there really are only so many ways two characters in the modern, western world can fall in love. There’s very little reason for dramatic tension. Once upon a time, families had a huge say in who their children married. Sex or often any kind of serious relationship outside of marriage was frowned upon. Relationships between people of different classes, races or religions were more or less forbidden. And that’s before you go anywhere near the subject of gay or lesbian relationships.

Most great historical romances have some of these tensions at play, whether feuding families in Romeo and Juliet; class in practically anything from the eighteenth or nineteenth century (Tess of the d’Urbervilles, Pride and Prejudice and Wuthering Heights all fall into this category, albeit in very different ways), or the perils of becoming a fallen woman in Victorian and early twentieth century literature. Incidentally, the latter has led me to the conclusion that if you’re a serving girl or local peasant and you have sex with the local aristocrat’s son even once, you’re 100% guaranteed to become pregnant.

Nowadays, there’s very little to stop most people in the UK from having anything from a one night stand to a marriage (or civil partnership) with anyone for whom they have requited feelings of some kind.

Historical novels (both in the sense of “written before 1960” and “written recently but set before 1960”) have this sort of tension going on in spades, as do some contemporary novels set in countries that aren’t so liberal (A Thousand Splendid Suns, for example, which is set in Afghanistan under the Taliban, has a beautiful, if utterly heartbreaking, forbidden romance at its core).

Generally though, contemporary romance set in the west has to completely manufacture this sort of tension with silly misunderstandings, an old lover who’s standing in the way, or some sort of minor rivalry, and on the whole, I’m not buying any of that.

Add vampires in though (and let me reiterate once more, I’m talking proper vampires, who need human blood, can’t come out during the day  etc etc) and suddenly there’s tons of tension. Can a centuries old creature who’s become accustomed to seeing humans as food really love you? Will your charming vampire lover lose control and kill you in a fit of passion, of rage or simply not knowing their own strength? If not, might one of their friends or enemies? Are they willing to turn you and would you want that?

Just like with a lover of a different class or race in the past, you might have to keep it secret. Your friends and family probably won’t approve and most likely neither will their’s. There’ll be all kinds of cultural difficulties and differences in lifestyle and moral standards to be overcome. There can be dangers from the relationship (for pregnancy and disease, replace being turned and being drained) and from outside it.

I think this is also behind the sudden surge in popularity of 50 Shades of Gray, Crossfire and all those other “oh no, the hot billionaire I met is into kinky sex” books. In theory, the BDSM creates the tension and the forbidden element, because supposedly a nice girl wouldn’t be into that, and her family and friends will have to either be shocked and disapproving and lied to, and there are potential dangers. Except in this case I just don’t buy into it. It seems so artificial, and so easy to get round via a combination of experimentation and compromise. 

There’s a reason that seemingly every other blurb on a vampire book uses the words “forbidden love.” It’s because it’s at the heart of every vampire romance story and no longer at the heart of much other romance. 

Why I Like Vampire Novels so much – Parts One and Two: History and Folklore

21 Monday Jan 2013

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Every night this week, I’m writing about some of the reasons I love reading and writing vampire novels. If you haven’t already read my intro, check it out here, so we’re clear what sort of vampire books I’m talking about – Introduction Oh and in case you’ve come across this blog randomly, all the title quotes are from my series, The Cavaliers. Grant me a little self-indulgence!

Tonight, we’re dealing with reasons one and two:

  1. History without the baggage
  2. Folklore, tradition and magic

1)History without the baggage

“Harriet thought about the 1920s, one of her favourite periods of history. She was struggling to understand that he had lived through them, had that glorious interwar experience.”

As I think would probably be clear to anyone who’s either read Oxford Blood or spent much time on this blog, I absolutely love history. It was my university degree and it’s an ongoing personal passion. I quite enjoy full blown historical fiction, but only in fairly small doses and only if it’s really well done

There are a few seriously amazing historical fictions novels (Wolf Hall, obviously. Sarum, which tells the history of Salisbury from prehistoric times to the present day. The King’s General, by Daphne de Maurier, which has all the brilliance of her more famous works with the added fun of being set during the English Civil War). I’m seriously considering writing a proper historical novel myself at some point.

I do however have a few problems with the genre. One, unless it’s alternate history (which can be amazing if done well) you know how any major events mentioned in the book is going to end. Two, if characters act in historically authentic ways (eg in their attitudes to women or class) there are only so many ways they can develop, and if they don’t, it can feel jarring. Similarly, an author can either include lots of historical detail, drowning the plot under a pile of cravats, muslin dresses and talk of the war and the King, or they can avoid this and seem inauthentic.

With vampire novels, you can have the best of both world. Most of the plot can be set in the present day, giving the characters freedom to behave as they wish and leaving the ending open, but at the same time, you can have flashbacks to the time when the vampire characters were alive, and you can also have their original time period influence their views on the world. This is done particularly well in Anne Rice’s Vampire Chronicles, which whilst they never let facts get in the way of a good story, nevertheless gave me a good understanding of the culture of Renaissance Italy, Ancient Egypt and medieval Russia when I read them in my teens, years before I studied any of those periods properly.

The historical elements were definitely one of my favourite parts of writing Oxford Blood, and the accuracy of them is one of the aspects of the book I’m proudest of. All of this is one of the reasons that one of my golden rules of vampire writing is that at least some major characters need to have been born more than a century ago. Preferably a lot more.

2 – Folklore, tradition and magic

This follows on from the history point and is a very similar argument. I love folklore and mythology and tradition, and vampire novels can be given a liberal sprinkling of this sort of detail without it having to become the entire point of the story.

I find it fascinating how many culture, across the globe and over the centuries, have had some form of vampire legend. I find it fun to compare the differences in detail of these traditions. Oxford Blood plays with this a little, by having two sets of vampires, the Cavaliers and the Roundheads:

“George broke off from his memories. “Tell me,” he asked Harriet, watching her closely, “have you ever noticed how there are basically two sorts of vampires depending on which books you read and which films you watch?”

“You mean that there are the Anne Rice style glamorous brooding ones and then there are the old fashioned scary Nosferatu monsters?” Harriet asked nervously.

“Exactly,” George said with a hint of a smile. “It’s us and them.”

This is taken to a fabulous extreme in the Anno Dracula series, which starts from the principle that all the conflicting tales about vampires are true and pretty much every fictional vampire is real, and that the discrepancy is simply due to their being a variety of different bloodlines, each of which has very different qualities.

Beyond the vampires themselves, vampire novels are a great starting point for bringing in all sorts of other mythology, whether that’s biblical references, ideas about magic and psychic powers or ancient prophecies. I think this sort of thing can put a lot of readers off, but I love it. It comes back to my original point – if the plot would be basically the same if the vampires were human, it’s not a good vampire novel.

I’d love to hear whether you agree or disagree on my thoughts so far, or about any points you think I’ve missed from my list. If you enjoyed this, check back tomorrow for reason three: romance with meaningful tension.