David J. Skal (1952–2024)

I just finished Frankenstein before this, which I loved, and I can't help but comparing the two (which I'm sure has been done 1000000 times before). Both are classic gothic horror lit, both are epistolary in nature, both are crazy influential, etc.

Where Frankenstein had basically none of the "monster tropes" that exist in popular culture (green monster, mad scientist in a castle, mob with pitchforks, "It's alive" scene, etc) I find Dracula to be the opposite. Literally every single vampire show more trope is in this book: mirrors, garlic, crucifixes, preying on young attractive women, running water, bats, can't enter unless invited, sleep in coffins, etc.

Frankenstein was incredible, with its masterful narration, beautiful, feminine prose, examination of psychological degradation and anguish, and the insightful philosophy. Dracula feels a bit pulpier? More adventure, plot at the forefront, a bit more of a mystery to work out? More suspense, more "horror". Definitely more what I was looking for with gothic horror, despite absolutely falling in love with Frankenstein (I think it's a masterpiece).

So I guess my takeaways are that Frankenstein is a masterpiece in literature, but Dracula strikes me as a better horror book, albeit maybe a more shallow experience. Still a fantastic book though. It starts off amazingly, and slows down in the middle a bit, however while there's less action in the middle, it gets to be more of a mystery for the reader to piece together. show less

Introducing one of English literature’s most infamous characters, Bram Stoker’s Dracula is a feast of a novel that delights both those with a taste for horror, and those without. While modern readers will recognize much of the Count that they have come to know through popular culture, the original novel holds much more than suave aristocrats and women in negligees.

The epistolary form of the novel – which comes into vogue in the 18th-century – allows Stoker to create a sense of show more suspense and complexity as he navigates several different narratives that prove essential to the successful relation of his vampire story. Although modern films have simplified the narrative to fit their own format, Dracula would not be the novel it is without the myriad of voices that Stoker utilizes to establish his story, and would certainly lose much of its power and seduction if left to a singular narrator.

When reading Dracula for analysis (as oppose to personal pleasure) it is important to remember that Stoker's work is actually a fairly late addition to the evolving body of English vampire literature. Authors such as Keats, Coleridge, Byron, Polidori, and Le Fanu all raise their voices to contribute to the emerging rendition of an ancient figure, and have their influence in Stoker's creation of his iconic Count. What Stoker does is not create the vampire myth - nor the English vampire story - but rather uses it to very 19th-century English ends.

In the wide scope of Gothic monsters, the vampire is one of the more recent members. While witches haunt medieval manuscripts and werewolves stalk Renaissance dramas, the vampire does not appear in English literature until relatively late.* Stoker himself is responsible for many characteristics that have now become standard for the modern vampire figure, and contemporary authors and artists owe much to Stoker’s conception. What I find most interesting, however, is how Stoker himself manipulates the standards of his time to give life to the character that has so permeated public consciousness. Dracula moves beyond the traditions of horror and Gothic and becomes a piece of social commentary and exploration that contains radical examinations of gender, sexuality, and reproduction. Under the guise of Gothic, Stoker is allowed the freedom to challenge traditional roles established by Victorian society, and pushes against traditional institutions under the cloak of "horror".

Dracula has earned its place in the English canon, and remains an important and influential work of literature that is sure to delight readers for centuries to come.

*According to Montague Summers, demonic creatures that possess certain characteristics attributed to vampires by modern audiences can in fact be found in manuscripts as early as the 14th century, but these distinctions and identifications are all made several centuries after their original composition. show less

Fascinating look at the early incarnations of the Count, and his unlikely genesis as a cultural icon. Skal's writing is extremely knowledgeable, and very amusing and readable. Generous with illustrations, and the large-size format (while a little hard on the wrists!) means that the pictures are right there, where you want them, by the text. (Example: reading a paragraph about the various actors who were considered for the part of Dracula in the Universal movie, several of whom were unknown show more to me, I thought, I wish he'd just have a page with pictures of all of them ... Turned the page, and guess what ...? That's thorough ...)[return][return]If I have a quibble, it's that Skal seems oddly resistant to his material. He's pretty dismissive of the novel and the Tod Browning film. He seems to cordially loathe Bram Stoker himself. He has very little good to say about the three theatrical versions that wound up touring the UK and the USA, thanks to Florence Stoker's litigious grasp on the copyright of her late husband's one and only cash cow. (He's not crazy about Florence Stoker, either ...)[return][return]Now, I'm not saying that Bram Stoker's Dracula is a work of literary genius. It's clunky, and amateurish, and it's much more interesting for what it reveals of the psychology of its author, and the society he lived in and, indeed, the psychology of anyone reading it. And Skal does acknowledge its strange attraction as a pop culture Rorschach test, on which a reader can and does project almost any of their personal or cultural concerns.[return][return]And yes, Bram Stoker was a very strange, sad man. He lived his life struggling with his homosexual yearnings, and turned himself into the worst kind of closeted person -- one obsessed with "good, clean manliness" and obviously very frightened of women. (And Florence Stoker was a woman who married a strange, sad man, and had to live with the consequences of that). But having recently read a novel about Stoker which presents Stoker and Florence in a much more sympathetic light (Shadowplay by Joseph O'Connor), I found it a little hard to go along with Skal's very hostile reading. (A novel is a novel, of course, and Skal backs up his claims with evidence, and may be absolutely right about Stoker and Florence. But it just seemed that there was more nuance there than Skal was allowing.)[return][return]And finally, the movie. Yes, yes, yes: Tod Browning's movie is a hot mess, and it was very interesting to learn how much of that mess was NOT due to primitive technology, and to the lingering aesthetics of silent movies, or even to studio interference. By contrasting it with the simultaneous Spanish language version, which was directed with much more flair and sensitivity for the possibilities of the script, Skal makes it clear that, no, the limitation of the 1931 movie are all down to the curious limitations of Tod Browning, who seemed determined to ignore the opportunities that his script, cast, set and technology offered him.[return][return]It reminds me that I must watch the Spanish language version which, since Skal wrote this book, has been rescued and reissued on a deluxe dvd with the Tod Browning version.[return][return]One thing Skal makes clear: it's a little miracle of pop culture that so many flawed individuals --Stoker, Mrs. Stoker, Browning, even Bela Lugosi -- wound up producing something that lingers in the mind, and has spawned such a weird, rich mythology.[return][return]...ahh, the children of the night. What music they make! show less

I can’t write this review without mentioning how strange it is to read Dracula in 2021. We have so much foreknowledge of it simply through cultural osmosis that we come to the table so far ahead of the clueless characters. It can be frustrating but mostly I just found it comical—every time a character utters the name “Dracula” it’s like you can hear the ominous minor chord on an organ being struck, and when in the beginning Jonathan Harker says stuff like, “Why, this Country show more Dracula is a rather polite fellow, despite his little oddities!” it almost registers as parody.

As to the book itself, looking at it as much as I can separate it from the spectre it has cast onto pop culture, it’s really rather underwhelming. I suppose that’s inevitable with a book like this, but I feel like even if I knew nothing about vampires or Dracula before reading this, I’d still be disappointed—the book is 10% doing stuff and 90% talking about doing stuff. Most of what happens is painstaking preparation for encounters that last less than a page. Characters have to share information, have discussions on how to proceed, gather supplies, type up their notebooks for ease of reading, find the best geographical route to their destination—all things that are usually omitted in books and movies, and for good reason: they’re very tedious and boring.

We are also told how terrible Count Dracula is much more often than we are shown it; he gets very little airtime for a book that bears his name. The characters’ favourite pastime, apart from warning each other of his craven cruelty, seems to be complimenting each other—everyone in this book with the exception of the villain is so bloody good, so courageous, kind, noble, generous, blah blah blah you get it they’re all perfect. Which makes them very uninteresting. And you can only read so much of them all patting each other on the back before you start rooting for Dracula to swoop in and make Swiss cheese of somebody’s neck, just to shake things up a bit!

Speaking of, it’s a shame how often Stoker pulls back from describing the macabre and grotesque, because he’s really good at it. Lucy’s “true death” scene stands out as a memorable moment, as does the description of the Count’s stormy entrance into England—both are dark, richly detailed passages which evoke the oppressive unease of gothic horror as well as the straightforward frights of modern horror. I think they’re also a big reason I disliked the book overall, as they serve as this grating reminder that Stoker is capable of greatness, he just often chooses to skirt around it.

Read Carmilla instead. show less