[This is long and contains many spoilers, be warned!]
Reading Bram Stokerâs novel Dracula with fresh eyes is practically impossible. Even new readers carry with them countless images of the vampire in fiction and film (and in many other media, even toys and food). Those of us who return to this bizarre text now and then do so with our vision also colonized by the ubiquitous media vampire, regardless of our previous readings of the text. Iâve tried to become, nonetheless, a reader as inexperienced as possible in my recent re-reading of this atmospheric novel, carried out in preparation of lectures beginning next week. And, to my surprise, I have found Stokerâs masterpiece scarier than ever.
In the introduction to my oldish 1983 edition of Dracula (Oxfordâs World Classics), A.N. Wilson gently mocks Stokerâs efforts, sentencing that while â[t]he writing is of a powerful, workaday sensionalistic kindâ, in his view âNo one in their right mind would think of Stoker as a âgreat writerââ. I agree that Dracula is not in the same league as âMiddlemarch or Madame Bovary or War and Peaceâ but, then, weâre comparing here different kinds of talent. Eliot, Flaubert and Tolstoy could never have written Dracula, for good or bad. And it does take a still poorly understood type of talent to make this weird vampire tale survive since its inception in 1897, after spawning so many other creatures of the night. Also, if you check as I have done, how many âoriginal textsâ Stoker uses in each of his chapters to maintain the illusion that his gothic yarn is ârealâ, youâll see that he did make a remarkable effort to compose his novel. This apparently extends even to his having produced a quite accurate version of how Dutchmen speak English in Van Helsingâs singular idiolect.
Unfortunately, the plethora of ridiculous American-style vampires plaguing us since Anne Rice published Interview with the Vampire in 1976, presenting one of the creatures as a Romantic hero, has done much harm to the vampire mythâI forgot to say that Wilson calls Stoker a myth-maker. In the original novel, as some commentators have noticed, Count Dracula is actually a secondary, even minor, character. His actions are narrated by othersâhis actual or prospective victimsâand they always see him as a menacing, predatory monster; this is how vampires should be portrayed. Edward Cullen and his kind are, excuse me, idiotic embodiments of the still more idiotic idea that a woman might find satisfaction in loving a monster. Victorian Mina does find satisfaction in her Christian conviction that by staking and beheading her harasser the gentlemen in her circle may be saving the Countâs soul, but she is never in love with Dracula. To my dismay (and disappointment), when I explained in a recent seminar that there is no romantic plot in Stokerâs novel, a young girl announced that this is why she will never read the book.
Stephanie Meyerâs already dĂ©modĂ© Twilight saga borrows its romantic plot from James V. Hartâs absurd screenplay for Francis Ford Coppolaâs so-called Bram Stokerâs Dracula (1992). This well-received adaptation significantly deviates from the original by supposing that Mina is a reincarnation of Draculaâs long-lost lover Elisabetta, who committed suicide centuries before when both were ruthlessly persecuted by their Ottoman enemies. The Count embraced vampirism in despair but seeing her lover reborn in the portrait of Mina that Jonathan carries with him, he determines to win her back. What is baffling about Hart and Coppolaâs work is that theirs is certainly the most accomplished rendering of Stokerâs novel ever seen on the screen. As I re-read the book, I marvelled at how exact some of the filmed scenes were, even despite the bizarre outfits (Lucyâs burial/bridal dress) and the strange tone used by some performers. Anthony Hopkins played Van Helsing right after playing Hannibal Lecter and something of this vampiric character is visible in his Dutch vampire hunter.
Iâm going to list next some of the moments that make Stokerâs Dracula so scary (most of them well known) and try to figure out what factors are usually overlooked. Perhaps this is obvious to any reader but Iâll claim that the three strongest points of this novel are: Stokerâs grounding of his paranormal tale on the technoscience of his ultra-modern late 19th century Victorian England, the urgency in the swift race against time in the last third of the novel to save Minaâs soul by killing Dracula and, above all, a very deft use of the hypnagogic state of consciousness, that is to say, of the phase between wakefulness and sleep. The most terrifying moments happen when characters cannot tell whether they are dreaming or being actually attacked. Iâm not sure whether Stoker wrote in this way thinking that his readers would read his novel in bed, but the scenes can easily generate nightmares if read before falling asleep. Give it a try⊠if you dare.
Here are the most horrific touches. In Chapter 2, Harker describes the Count who, incidentally, begins the novel as an old man and progressively ages back towards youth as blood nourishes him. Draculaâs âcruel-lookingâ mouth with its âpeculiarly sharp white teethâ and his âextraordinary pallorâ warn us that heâs no ordinary man; but what really scares us is that his hands sport âhairs in the centre of the palmâ. When Harker feels their touch he cannot ârepress a shudderââcould you? During his imprisonment in Draculaâs castle, Jonathan is shocked by how his jailer pretends that heâs staying as a free guestâwhen told that he can leave, Harker finds a pack of wolves at the door.
There are a few even more hair-raising moments. One is the sight of the Count creeping down the wall, âusing every projection and inequality to move downwards with considerable speed, just as a lizard moves along a wallâ. Another one is Draculaâs offering to his brides of a bag with something squirming inside which, when opened, releases âa gasp and a low wail, as of a half-smothered childâ. And, of course, the death of the poor babyâs mother, attacked by the Countâs feral minions: âThere was no cry from the woman, and the howling of the wolves was but short. Before long they streamed away singly, licking their lipsâ. Notice the concise phrasing.
The horrific events on board the Demeter, the Russian ship carrying Dracula to Whitby (Chapter 7), appear to be the earliest predecessor of the film Alien. If, as its slogan went, âin space none can hear you screamâ, the same happens at sea during the Demeterâs doomed voyage as Dracula decimates the crew. I must also highlight, obviously, Lucyâs rape in the graveyard, witnessed by Mina (Chapter 8). Rape? Yes, indeed. Mina does not know about Dracula but we do and, so, her inability to clearly see what is going on is totally unnerving. Lucy is here sleepwalking at night in Whitbyâs graveyard: âThere was undoubtedly something, long and black, bending over the half-reclining white figure. I called in fright, âLucy! Lucy!â and something raised a head, and from where I was I could see a white face and red, gleaming eyesâ. Mina boldly rushes to her friendâs aid but, by then, the phallic âsomethingâ is gone. Not from our minds.
Other dreadful moments colour the failed attempts to protect poor Lucy. Her mother dies of a heart attack when a wolf crashes into their bedroom window. As she dies, Mrs. Westenra tears the garlic flowers off Lucyâs neck, leaving her vulnerable again to Draculaâs bite-raping procedure. Lucy writes that âI tried to stir, but there was some spell upon meâ; her motherâs dead body also weighs her down. Later, once Lucy dies, a victim of this paralysing dread, we find the most stunning passage in the whole book: Van Helsingâs stark declaration to Dr. Seward that, since Lucy is actually un-dead, he âshall cut off her head and fill her mouth with garlic, and I shall drive a stake through her bodyâ (Chapter 13). Appallingly, Seward says: âIt made me shudder to think of so mutilating the body of the woman whom I had loved. And yet the feeling was not so strong as I had expectedâ. How callous and⊠chilling.
Lucyâs fiancĂ© Arthur is initially dismayed but he soon proceeds gleefully to do the deed, with hands that ânever trembled nor even quiveredâ. Instead of the shortish stake used in films, Arthur impales Lucy with a 90 cm (three-feet) monster weapon as âa hideous, blood-curdling screech came from the opened red lipsâ. Once the terrible deflowering concludes she looks her old pre-vampire virginal self, seemingly satisfied that her soul has been saved. Please recall that Stoker imagined this sensational assault as a straightforward horror scene, and not as a scene to show the menâs misogyny. This is doubly terrifying for us.
Van Helsingâs list of the vampireâs powers in Chapter 18 is far more daunting than any similar list of features in other versions. Here Dracula is âstrong in person as twenty menâ, extremely cunning, a powerful necromancer, and capable of appearing âwithin limitationsâ whenever and wherever he wants. Most vampires are burnt by daylight but the Count can walk in the sun though only as a vulnerable mortal. The film Nosferatu (1922), an illegal adaptation, introduced (I think) the trope of the lethal sun-rays (or was it the serial Varney the Vampire?). Proof that Dracula can appear as he wishes is how, once invited in by madman Renfield into Dr. Sewardâs home, the Count attacks Mina after reaching her bedroom as a mysterious mist. âI thought that I was asleepâ she records in her journal, and our horror is amplified because rational Mina cannot tell that this was no dream. The same happened to her husband, remember, in his ordeal with Draculaâs voluptuous brides.
Nothing, however, is as strikingly pornographic and violent as the scene in Chapter 21 when Arthur, Morris, Seward and Van Helsing catch Dracula in Mina and Jonathanâs bed. Harker is âbreathing heavily as though in a stuporâ and this is the revolting sight the men face: âWith his left hand [Dracula] held both Mrs. Harkerâs hands, keeping them away with her arms at full tension; his right hand gripped her by the back of the neck, forcing her face down on his bosom. Her white nightdress was smeared with blood, and a thin stream trickled down the manâs bare breast which was shown by his torn-open dressâ. This oral rape and/or bloody fellatio, however, is infantilized by Seward who reports to us that âThe attitude of the two had a terrible resemblance to a child forcing a kittenâs nose into a saucer of milk to compel it to drinkâ. Some kitten, some milk⊠This is, excuse me, the climax of the whole story.
It is, in any case, Stokerâs merit as a superbly good story-teller that the anti-climax is also full of suspense. In their thrilling chase of the Count back to his Transylvanian lair (he needs to be killed or Mina will become a vampire when she dies, even if never bitten again), our heroes even take the Orient Express!! For, as we are told again and again, this is the 19th century with a vengeance and the vampire cannot compete with the rush of the modern world. And rush the gang of heroes do, all the way to Draculaâs crumbling castle, where Van Helsing indulges in more female decapitation (of the brides), and Morris finally shows that he is not a superfluous addition: the Bowie knife of the American hunter is the tool that stakes Draculaâs heart. Thus is his soul saved, as Mina wishes, although, perplexingly, Morris is also killed (by a gypsy henchman of the Count).
In case youâre interested, the word âbloodâ appears in the text 115 times (âvampireâ, just 28). âSoulâ is mentioned 65 times, and the verb âsaveâ 34. Now hereâs the surprise: âsleepâ appears 193 times (âasleepâ, 47) but âdreamâ only 18, and ânightmareâ just 6. The biggest surprise of all is that the real keyword of Dracula is âtimeâ, with 386 appearances; âlateâ is used 60 times (ârushâ 10, âhurryâ 10). And âtrainâ, 36⊠they didnât have modern cars back then. Characters rush here and there in mortal fear that time is running out and that they are too late to save those who risk losing blood and soul while theyâre apparently asleep, unaware that they are actually under attack by a monstrous vampire. This gives Dracula its amazing tension, its terse suspense, and its huge capacity to scare.
Step aside, Cullen and company.
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