Vampires II: Puzzling Reflections — Anno Dracula, Lucy Westenra, Gwendolyn Kiste
The many deaths of Dracula and the power of new perspectives
Last week I examined vampires in their role as monsters and as the embodiment of a few major societal fears, in light of some personal favourite portrayals. I glossed over many of the more obvious — such as death, darkness and the unknown — but they may come up yet.
Beginning today and finishing next week, I’d like to flip the perspective from external to internal. What can we learn by going inside the mind of vampires and looking outward?
Childer of Dracula
Bram Stoker’s Dracula (1897) may not have been the first work of modern vampire fiction, but it has certainly been the most influential — to the extent that people may genuinely confuse character and creature. Adaptations, parodies and references to the book suffuse the speculative fiction genre and continually break into mainstream pop culture, with two big-budget films releasing in 2023 alone.
Every month I do my best to attend the Dumpster Raccoon film series at The Revue on Roncesvalles here in Toronto, celebrating queer-coded and often ‘trashy’ films. Of the eleven events I’ve attended so far, four have been vampire flicks: The Lost Boys (1987), Alucarda (1977), Vamp (1986) and Bram Stoker’s Dracula (1992). Each was incredible in its own unique way, with Alucarda even serving as a half-decent adaptation of Carmilla (1872).
Two of my favourite stories pick up from (near) the end of Bram Stoker’s original novel. The first is a short story by Gwendolyn Kiste: “The Eight People Who Murdered Me (Excerpt from Lucy Westenra’s Diary)” featured in Nightmare Magazine and available to read free online.
Kiste’s evocative piece follows the trend of short speculative fiction applying a supernatural lens to current societal issues. In this case, she also weaves in both an established fictional character — Lucy Westenra — and themes of a century’s critical discussion surrounding her.
And Bram Stoker’s original version of Lucy is worthy of critique. As a young socialite proposed to by three suitors on the same day early in the novel, it’s easy to see Lucy as the ‘bimbo’ to Mina Harker’s ‘final girl’. Once turned, Lucy also feeds exclusively on children in a “demonic mother-parody, taking nourishment from children instead of giving it” [Leslie Ann Minot, 2017]. Though horrifying and fairly unique, this reversal has more to do with society’s view of Lucy’s femininity than anything related to her actual character.
Gwendolyn Kiste’s short story gives Lucy a voice for once, and she speaks to the sundry ways society failed her and then blamed her for the consequences. Her voice is harsh on the protagonists of Dracula, but also feels indelibly true to them and society as a whole: Van Helsing sees Lucy only as a helpless victim and object of scientific interest, and it never enters his mind to connect with her as a human being. We are just as guilty, aren’t we?
I can’t recommend Kiste’s story highly enough, especially if you have the time and interest to also read Dracula beforehand (it’s in the public domain, so there are plenty of free audiobook versions available!)
Kim Newman’s Anno Dracula (1992–2019) series imagines a world where the heroes of Bram Stoker’s novel fail to destroy Dracula at the final moment. The first book opens brutally with Abraham Van Helsing and Jonathan Harker’s heads on the fence of Buckingham Palace, and fellow protagonist Jack Seward falling into madness as he slowly transforms into Jack the Ripper. Stoker himself is even a character, wanted by Dracula for his treasonous version of history.
Developed alongside the legendary Neil Gaiman, Anno Dracula’s world is a brilliant and absurd mash-up of every vampire story, with tons of other fictional and real historical characters thrown in for good measure. Lord Ruthven (who I mentioned last week as the first modern vampire) serves as Prime Minister under monarchs Dracula and Queen Victoria; Carmilla turned protagonist Genevieve Dieudonné; Doctors Jeckyll and Moreau seek to understand vampirism; the Holmes brothers tackle the vampire problem from opposite ends of society.
The following three novels expand the narrative to WW1 — where elite German fliers like Göring and Von Richthofen don’t fly planes but are instead monstrously transformed vampires with Gatling cannons strapped to their wings, — 1959 Italy — where Dracula’s new wedding attracts serial killers, mystery and a certain undead Bond, — and 1980s Hollywood — where a ritual involving 13 Dracula films by the likes of Welles and Coppola elevates the references to new realms of strangeness.
I have two Anno Dracula books yet to go, and even my passion for creative worldbuilding is feeling the strain of Newman’s achievement with this series. Yet the choice to loosely follow three vampire women through the decades of alternate history lends a connective soul to this endless expanding narrative — aside from everlasting antagonist Dracula himself.
Anno Dracula asks real questions in addition to offering non-stop cameos and subtle nods. Does vampirism snuff out the creative spark of artists? Edgar Allen Poe continues to haunt the 1980s in this world, but it seems like his “warm” period is all anyone cares for. Given the choice, shouldn’t everyone turn? Not everyone does, and their choice of humanity and mortality over love and undeath is genuinely fascinating — even if the romance in these books is their lowest point for me.
I’ll leave it there for today, and return next week with some final intriguing aspects of vampires and their perspectives. What does it mean to have no reflection? What effect does the passage of time have on undead minds? Addiction, religion, memory, sex & euphoria — next week.
Thanks for reading! I’d love to hear your thoughts on Kiste’s short story, the original Dracula text or the vast and strange world of Anno Dracula — or anything I mentioned last week~
