Dracula [Norton Critical Edition]

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 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, show more 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 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 show more 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

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 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 show more 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

Edit: I just read this for the second time, and it was even better than I’d remembered! This book has such a sense of fun!

I liked this book very much. In terms of its impact as a horror novel, it does not disappoint. The villain Dracula is as creepy as I'd hoped he'd be, and the initial chapters, which take the form of Jonathan Harker's journal as Dracula holds him captive, offer a gripping and highly suspenseful opening to the story. In terms of its impact as a late-Victorian text, it was certainly a fascinating read, for lack of a better word. I could never quite make up my mind what Stoker was trying to do, exactly. He portrayed sexist characters, but not without a certain degree of amusement, and I was never sure whether he was show more supporting it or subverting it. He portrayed -- or even almost parodied -- romance, suitors, British pride, and fear of the foreign. The main protagonists consist of a very competent, logical, hard-working woman (whom the male characters all seem to revere, not only for her wonderful womanliness, but also for her ability to prove herself equal to the men), and a whole team of men, whose camaraderie, compliments, and affirmations of friendship hover somewhere between campy and absurd. A lot of books could be described as campy, but what's singular about Dracula is that it's meant to be. It was a delight to read, and it lives completely up to the hype. show less

My high school best friend and I watched Francis Ford Coppola's version of Dracula dozens of times. (Yes, we realized that Gary Oldman was pure camp and Keanu was horribly miscast, but still...) Somewhere in there, I read this original novel, the novelization of the movie, and various books about Vlad the Impaler. So the general plot of the novel was very familiar, but the details were hazy.

For a Victorian era horror novel, it's aged fairly well. The blood transfusion bits are laughable, and I couldn't stop seeing vampirism as a metaphor for rape. It all seems much less romantic than it did when I was a teen. (As do many things. ::sigh::) But in retrospect (not having watched the movie for at least 20 years), I think Coppola may have show more actually improved it. At least he provided some motivation for Dracula and gave him a more satisfying, dramatic death. show less

I have not read Twilight.

However, I have seen the movies, so I know what Stephenie Meyer has done to the vampire. This in itself, I believe, is grounds enough to refuse to read the books. Guys, believe me when I say this, vampires don't sparkle. In fact, vampires are scary as shit.

Seriously.

I don't only blame Meyer alone for the romanticizing of the vampire, though I do blame her for the extremes to which she took it. Anne Rice did it to. Read Interview with a Vampire or The Vampire LeStat. Both are good books, by the way, but both turn the vampire into a hero, beautiful and desirable, lost and searching. But the vampire was never meant to be a hero. The vampire was always meant to be a thing of horror, a thing to be feared.

I'm not show more actually saying much here. I mean, I love Anne Rice's books. And Buffy and Angel? How can I condemn such a love story between the Vampire Slayer and the creature she's supposed to be killing? Star-crossed lovers at their best. But, I am lamenting the loss of the horror of vampires. They used to be some of the most terrifying creatures one could imagine. Now? They're a watered down semblance of themselves.

In Dracula, the reader is given a full, terrifying view of what a vampire is, in all its horrific glory. There is nothing safe and cuddly about a vampire. They are, truly, monsters.

Read it! It will turn your world upside-down, if only for the days you spend reading it. show less

Renfield appears in many adaptations of Stoker's work, often in an expanded role. In "Nosferatu," by F.W Murnau, 1922, he’s the real estate agent who employs Harker. In "Dracula," by T.Browning, 1931, he’s sent to Dracula’s castle as the agent. In "Bram Stoker’s Dracula," by F.F.Coppola, 1992, he’s Harker’s predecessor in the London agency.

Why is Renfield so important?

Renfield is a powerful key character through which Stoker’s book can be read.

Seemingly, Renfield is raving mad. He's certainly insane, but he’s also capable of lucidity and property of language—as when he confronts Van Helsing’s squad. Through Seward’s notes, Renfield explains his theory about life, which—as in most intelligent lunatics—tends to show more evolve. Renfield is obsessed with hoarding lives. He starts catching and eating lesser beings—flies and spiders—then he lures the former with sugar, feeding them to the latter in an awful escalation of increasingly larger animals (possibly topping with humans?)

When Seward forbids Renfield to keep a cat (and, incidentally, Dracula arrives) he changes his mind and eats up all his creatures. It is Dracula who offers the next installment to Renfiels’ ravings; Such master, who has found in his victims’ blood the ultimate blessing of (half) life represents the new model to follow. Renfield enters this new stage of insanity expectantly—is Dracula passing on his powerful gift?

But there is one final stage into which Renfield’s madness evolves. It’s unexpected, deeply human and moving:

Renfield meets Mina—a woman. In this fatal introduction, Renfield’s lunacy comes to completion and delivers him to gruesome death... At some point, probably because Renfield detects the shadow of his master upon Mina, he turns against Dracula, and succumbs. What is the fatal glow of truth that enlightens Renfield? Who is, in fact, the supreme perpetuator of life, if not Mina herself?

It is in Renfield’s realization that lies his salvation and Dracula’s destruction. show less