Author of the Week ~ E M Reders

27 Thursday Mar 2014

Posted by Alyson Dunlop Shanes in Uncategorized

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Blurb: The vampire world is a dangerous place at the best of times, but especially so during a war. Though there is one safe place left. ‘Dead Fang Hotel’ But it’s not a sanctuary for all its residents. For Bree it is nothing but a prison. A prison in which to hide from her enemies and the horrors of her dark past. She hates the place and after being carted back there after yet another attempt at escape decides that she has had enough of her constant captivity. Things have to change. The biggest change comes in the form of a tall, dark, sexy as hell vampire assassin. Gabriel But as the two grow ever closer she begins to worry that her past may cost her even more pain than it already has. I mean who could love a Fangless vampire. *This book is Intended for mature YA/Adult audiences due to sexual content*

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At the age of 16 E.M. Reders watched a certain boy wizard movie and instantly wanted to read the books. Since that day she has been an addictive reader of fantasy both YA and Adult and now 10 years later is bringing her own fantasy series to life. When she isn’t nose deep in her Kindle or typing away she is chasing round 2 (soon to be 3, or 4 if you include the husband) children and a crazy dog.

Click here to follow E M Reders’ blog!

QUEER STORIES: Hidden Homosexuality in Early Horror

20 Saturday Apr 2013

Posted by Alyson Dunlop Shanes in Uncategorized

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Anubis, beast, bi-sexual, buggery, Carmilla, Dark Fantasy, Desire, disguise, Dorian Gray, Dracula's Daughter, Egyptian mythology, Finding Delphi, gay, gothic, Greek, homoerotic, homoeroticism, homosexual, homosexuality, Horror, Hyde, jackal, James Corden, Jekyll, Joseph Sheridan Le Fanu, lesbian, Lesbian Vampire Killers, monster, Oscar Wilde, Paul McGann, queer, Robert Louis Stevenson, secrecy, secrets, Sex, sexual, Sexuality, sodomy, Stephen Fry, the love that dare not speak its name, Underworld, Vampire, Victorian, Werewolf of London, Wilde

As I mentioned in a previous article, horror is the perfect place to find a secret subtext. In some parts of human history, it became unfortunately necessary for the subject of homosexuality to remain hidden in the world of literature and film. The UK 1533 Buggery Act made sodomy punishable by death. In 1861, this was changed to life imprisonment rather than hanging. However, in 1885 the laws were extended to include all sexual activities between males (Queen Victoria did not believe there was such a thing as lesbians!). It was in this very dark era that “the love that dare not speak its name” had to find other ways to communicate itself. Gay and bi-sexual writers were able to give expression to the subject of homoerotic desires using the medium of Gothic literature. In fact, many of the early Gothic romance writers were linked to homosexual scandal. “Secret and unlawful desires” became euphemisms for homosexuality. Three such tales, where one may find allusions to homosexuality, are Carmilla (1872) by Joseph Sheridan Le Fanu, The Strange Case of Doctor Jekyll and Mr Hyde (1886) by Robert Louis Stevenson and The Picture of Dorian Gray (1890) by Oscar Wilde. A few years later in 1935, with the advent of film, the gay theme can be found in a couple of horror films such as Werewolf of London (1935) and Dracula’s Daughter (1936).

Carmilla is the story of a young woman’s susceptibility to the attentions of a female vampire called Carmilla. The young woman, Laura, whilst living in a castle in Styria, has a vision of a beautiful woman when she is six years old. She claims later in the story to have been bitten on the chest by the visitor, although no wounds are visible. Perhaps this signifies an initial pang of attraction. Twelve years later, Laura finally meets Carmilla face to face, when Carmilla’s carriage is involved in an accident. The two women recognise each other from the dream.

Carmilla and Laura start to become close friends, although Carmilla has very sudden mood swings, and makes unsettling advances towards Laura. Of course, Carmilla exhibits vampiric tendencies, such as sleeping during the day, being awake at night and becoming enraged at hearing religious songs. Furthermore, Laura sees a portrait of an ancestor from the 17^th century: Mircalla, Countess Karnstein, who looks identical to Carmilla. Laura begins to have nightmares of being bitten on the chest by a fiendish cat, which transforms into a female figure. It would seem Laura’s feelings are being disturbed by an aggressive sexual predator.

Laura becomes very ill following these nightly visitations. Her father is told by a friend that his own, recently deceased, daughter had similar symptoms and goes on to describe the situation which involved a young woman named Millarca, who became friends with his daughter. He came to the conclusion that his daughter was being visited by a vampire, and upon a surprise attack the ‘cat-like creature’ took the form of Millarca and fled.

It all unravels that Carmilla, Mircalla and Millarca are one in the same person. All are anagrams of the same name. Of course, it is clear that lesbian attraction is the force between Carmilla and Laura:

Sometimes after an hour of apathy, my strange and beautiful companion would take my hand and hold it with a fond pressure, renewed again and again; blushing softly, gazing in my face with languid and burning eyes, and breathing so fast that her dress rose and fell with the tumultuous respiration. It was like the ardour of a lover; it embarrassed me; it was hateful and yet overpowering; and with gloating eyes she drew me to her, and her hot lips travelled along my cheek in kisses; and she would whisper, almost in sobs, “You are mine, you shall be mine, and you and I are one for ever”. (Carmilla, Chapter 4). (1)

Carmilla confined her attentions to female victims, was more comfortable at night-time, was very beautiful, able to walk through walls, could shape-shift into a cat and slept in a coffin. She was, most definitely, a lesbian vampire! A few films have been made in her honour. Some attempt to keep to the original story, but you may remember Carmilla making an appearance as the antagonist in Lesbian Vampire Killers (2009), starring James Corden and Paul McGann.

I had never thought of The Strange Tale of Doctor Jekyll and Mr Hyde by Robert Louis Stevenson, as being homoerotic. Up until now, as one of my all-time favourite stories, I had viewed it as a tale of the classic ‘beast’ or monster within. What that monster was, I had put down to some sort of message about insanity and split personalities. However, it is thought that one reading can be interpreted as that of a queer tale, so let’s look at the evidence for homoeroticism within the story. It is said to be a story of disguise – and not only in the form of Jekyll and Hyde: ‘a Gothic tale is disguised as a moral fable; the moral fable is disguised as a monster story’ (1). It might be safe to assume, therefore, that there is much more going on beneath the surface than the initial reading of it might suggest – I’d expect nothing less from such a stylish writer as RLS.

Thanks to a potion invented by Dr Jekyll, he is able to lead a double life in the form of his alter ego, Mr Hyde (obviously the name ‘Hyde’ is the same in sound to the word ‘hide’, which is exactly what both Jekyll and Hyde are doing, depending on who is visible. Hiding. As for Jekyll, well…the only word I can think of is ‘jackal’ and it wouldn’t surprise me if this was indeed the intended meaning. In Egyptian mythology, the jackal-headed Anubis, is the god of the Underworld, protector and judge of the dead. Ultimately, I suppose, Jekyll is a doctor who leads himself to death, but is he also judging himself as well?

The story is commonly thought to be a tale on the horrors of the unleashed sexual appetite, and here is my initial mistake. Having only seen the film, I assumed that the sexual debauchery Hyde demonstrated were towards women. In fact, in the original text there are no female characters, apart from a cook and a housemaid – both peripheral to the story. However, Stevenson himself rejected the notion that Hyde was about sexuality of any kind, maintaining that the only reason people would read it that way is because they can think of nothing else! A trap we should be careful of when reading Gothic fantasy… Nevertheless, some people do believe that Hyde is a closet homosexual and RLS does include some suspicious markers of homoeroticism within the story:

The suspected blackmail of Jekyll by his “young man”, his “favourite”; the “very pretty manner of politeness of Sir Danvers Carew” when approached in the street – terms that may have denoted forbidden liaisons to a Victorian readership. The hidden door by which he enters Jekyll’s house is the “back way”, even “the back passage”. It happens that the year of composition, 1885, was the year in which an amendment to an act of parliament made homosexual acts between men a criminal offence.(3)

On closer examination it looks like there is much more to discover within the pages of the story, and I think it might be worth returning to this subject in full once I’ve had the chance to read the original text thoroughly. It would seem there are several possible interpretations, and I wonder if this in itself was deliberate. Quite often a writer has more than one message he/she wishes to convey.

Most people know of Oscar Wilde and the circumstances which led to his imprisonment, after being convicted of homosexuality. He spent two years in prison for the sake of the “love that dare not speak its name”, famously quoted in Wilde with Stephen Fry playing the lead role. Fry gave a very beautiful and moving speech on being brought to trial for daring to love a man. He explains that in ancient Greek times it was perfectly natural, and the purest of relationships, for a teacher and his student to share a bond.

It has been suggested that the name Dorian, the protagonist in The Picture of Dorian Gray, is a reference to the ancient Greeks, who had a very different and more accepting view of homoeroticism. Both Lord Henry and Basil compete for Dorian’s attention, praising him for his good looks and youthfulness. Basil even states: “as long as I live, the personality of Dorian Gray will dominate me.” Nevertheless, Dorian does claim to have only ever loved one woman in his lifetime: Sibyl Vane. It could be that Dorian, like Wilde himself, was actually bisexually inclined. The fact that he is as attracted to her when she is dressed up as a man, as he is when she is dressed as a woman might point to that. Wilde was very happy and in love with his own wife for the first few years of their married life. Although I do wonder if the use of the word Sibyl is another nod to the Greeks and their prophetess, the Sibyl, the priestess seer who pronounced her oracles in ancient holy places like Delphi. (In Finding Delphi the Sibyl plays an important part in the story). Either way, it would seem the attraction Dorian feels for Sibyl is as a result of her ability to be all things, and as an actress she is well-placed to “mask life”.

Although it remains obscure, Basil asks why Dorian’s “friendship is so fatal to young men” and mentions the “shame and sorrow” of one of the young men’s fathers. Basil also tells Henry how he worships Dorian, begging him not to “take away the one person that makes my life absolutely lovely to me.” In the 1890 edition, Basil is more focused on the love he feels; whereas in the 1891 edition the following year, this has been changed to reflect the influence Dorian has on his art: “the one person who gives my art whatever charm it may possess: my life as an artist depends on him.” (4, 5, 6, 7).

Like Dr Jekyll, Dorian has another side to himself, his hidden sexual menace, which lives in the portrait of himself he keeps locked away. About the secrecy of his portrait, Dorian says: “I have grown to love secrecy. It seems to be the one thing that can make modern life mysterious or marvellous.” In both stories, the protagonists enjoy the pleasures of leading a double life, whilst in Carmilla, the vampire is known as having three different names and with the ability to disguise herself in the form of a cat. Although these are necessarily inexplicit about the subject of homosexuality, in the Victorian era when these stories were written, it is of much use to the interested reader to read them bearing in mind the zeitgeist of 19^th century Britain. To those who don’t see (or wish to see) the homosexual content in these stories, I’m sure you’ll find another interpretation and there is certainly much more to discover.

In the meantime, it is only by studying those dark times that we begin to see the horror of equating any kind of love with evil and ugliness. No character who hides away their repressed natural emotions ever meets a happy end.

Until next week, be true to yourself and love with pride. Your Fag Hag friend, A.D.

BIBLIOGRAPHY

(1) Le Fanu, J S (1872) Carmilla in “In a Glass Darkly” (Kindle edition).

(2) Halberstam, J (2000) Gothic Surface, Gothic Depth: The subject of Secrecy in Stevenson and Wilde in Skin Shows: Gothic Horror and The Technology of Monsters Duke Uni Press: USA.

(3) Campbell, J The Beast Within in The Guardian (13^th December 2008)

(4) The Picture of Dorian Gray Book Notes: http://www.bookrags.com/notes/dg/

(5) Literature (TPODG): http://www.sparknotes.com/lit/index_p.html

(6) TPODG: http://www.novelguide.com/ThePictureofDorianGray/index.html

(7) TPODG: http://www.gradesaver.com/the-picture-of-dorian-gray/study-guide/short-summary/

MARGARET THATCHER MEETS MEDEA: Witches and Monstrous Mothers throughout the Ages.

12 Friday Apr 2013

Posted by Alyson Dunlop Shanes in Uncategorized

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Blood, Carrie, Christianity, Colchis, curses, demonisation, Dracula, Euripides, feminism, Greek, Hekate, Horror, Jason, Lucy, Magi, magic, Malleus Maleficarum, Margaret Thatcher, Medea, menstruation, monsters, monstrous mothers, periods, powerful women, prophesy, Psycho, Religion, sacrifice, Sex, sexism, sexual predators, Stephen King, supernatural, The Devil, Vampire, vampirism, witch, witchcraft, women

Margaret Thatcher is nothing, if not memorable. She is both loved and reviled, depending on which side of the fence you stand on. It is not my intention to pay a tribute, though it does seem like a fitting topic this week, following the death of Thatcher, to discuss legendary women who fall into the category of ‘monstrous mothers’. Their deeds are outwith the accepted boundaries of what it means to be a woman. They, therefore, become known as a witch or monster.

Medea, wife of Jason, in the classical tale of the same name, is one such witch. Written in 431 BCE by the Greek playwright Euripides, Medea tells the story of a foreign witch betrayed by the man she loves. She gives up everything, her wealth and status, for Jason; everything, that is, except her magic. In fact, Medea is a priestess of Hekate from Colchis. This was the special domain of sorcery known as Kolkha. In the 6^th century BCE Colchis came under the Persian Empire†. In Greece, foreign religions were treated suspiciously and given the name ‘magic’; terms which arose from the name of the Persian priests, The Magi. Medea is treated badly throughout the story, both by the suspicious women of her new town and from her once beloved Jason. The townswomen do not like that Medea dresses differently from them; and Jason betrays her when he decides to marry Princess Glauce. Glauce is deemed to be more of an appealing match. After all, Medea is only a ‘barbarian woman’ in the eyes of the Greeks. By this point in the story, Medea has raised Jason’s two sons, and gets her own appalling revenge on him by murdering his wife and her father on the wedding day. She goes on to murder the two sons that she and Jason have together. Medea is shown, however, to be an oppressed victim, appealing for the sympathy of the audience. In this tale, she escapes in a blaze of glory, astride dragons, having wreaked her revenge on the philandering Jason.

The Sun himself, the source of all life and warmth, vindicating the cause of passion, disorder, violent cruelty, against the cold, orderly, self-protective process of civilised man, is a reminder that the universe is not on the side of civilisation; and that a life combining order with happiness is something men must win for themselves in continual struggle with an unsympathetic environment. (1)

This week, I’ve read the line: “Ding dong the witch is dead…” so often I can’t now seem to get it out my head. Interestingly, it was not until The Wizard of Oz, that we had the introduction of the witch as a terrifying character on the silver screen.

The witch has always inspired dread and fear, going back to ancient times, as can be seen in the case of Medea. The earliest known witches were feared only because they were thought to have magical and terrifying powers, not because of any association with The Devil. This was a later-added Christian fear (both The Devil and the association of The Devil with witches).

In some cultures, young girls who experienced prophetic dreams during menstruation were thought to be witches. There was often this association with blood and the supernatural. Menstruation was linked to the ‘witches curse’, something Stephen King explored in his much celebrated story Carrie. Historically, the curse of a woman who was menstruating or pregnant was believed to be much more powerful. It was known as a ‘Mother’s Curse’, and meant certain death. In the 14^th century, the secret feminine knowledge of midwifery became associated with witchcraft and in 1484 The Malleus Maleficarum stated that witches were castrators. Clearly men, therefore, had much to fear from these devil women! Witches, during those years, were often accused of such things. The main reason given for a woman’s ‘otherness’ is her natural carnal nature. Here is a shining example of the demonisation of women and sex, rolled into one convenient package. Burn the horny cock-thieving bitches!

In horror, the witch still has an essentially sexual nature, with supernatural powers and a wish to harm, wreaking destruction on the community. Being closer to nature than man, she can control such things as storms and hurricanes. In Carrie, the anti-heroine is a young menstruating woman, although not a mother. The monstrous mother role is given to her mother, who desires to control her daughter through a warped sense of religious morals. At no point in the story does she ever really show a maternal bond with Carrie. In both Psycho and Carrie the monstrous child is a product of the psychotic, domineering and monstrous mother. There is, incidentally, another important similarity between Carrie and Psycho. Both Marion in Psycho and Carrie, are punished severely after enjoying sensual pleasures in the shower, and both these scenes end in blood-shed.

Having been given no prior warning about periods from her mother, Carrie is then subjected to a lecture on the sins of women when she returns home. Raving about sexist religious beliefs, Mrs White goes on to blame all human evil on women. Woman is the universal scapegoat, and Carrie is, therefore, the sacrificial victim at the Prom, where she is baptised in the blood of a pig as a joke by her bullying classmates. Carrie is ‘crowned queen and anointed with pig’s blood’ before going on to wage her terrible and monstrous revenge. Like Medea, we are encouraged to view her display of monstrosity with sympathy because, like Medea, Carrie has been treated appallingly by her female peers and (not her husband) her mother.

Both women desire a fresh start at the end of their vengeful outburst: Medea in Athens, and Carrie, pictured as a trembling child washing off the indicators of her womanhood, kills her mother and returns to the ‘womb’ of the dark closet.

It’s pretty safe to conclude that the monstrous female is a patriarchal invention. Women tend not to be frightened of themselves, usually. In horror, the monstrous nature of women is undoubtedly linked with her place as man’s sexual other (2).

The dark side of maternity is also explored in Bram Stoker’s Dracula. The Count, described by Almond as a ‘monstrous baby’, suckles on women, turning them into bad mothers: ‘non-maternal sexual predators’ such as the vampirised Lucy, is later destroyed by honourable men. Furthermore, the three female vampires encountered by Jonathon Harker are representative of rampant female sexuality, much reviled by Victorian society. In such a society, they symbolise the corruption of motherhood. With witch-like qualities Shakespeare would have been proud to see, the terrifying power these three possess is female sexuality. Furthermore, Lucy goes from unconscious flirtatiousness to becoming blatantly seductive and, therefore, dangerous. Shortly after her death there are newspaper reports of children going missing who later, returning with bitten necks, report having met a beautiful woman who turns out to be Lucy. When confronted vampirising a child at night, Lucy callously discards the child and attempts to seduce her husband, Arthur. This is a scene which shows female sexuality is incompatible with maternity, a strong Victorian notion. It also reverses the roles of the mother and child. Instead of the child feeding from the mother-figure, the mother feeds upon the child (3).

Powerful and/or sexual women are often seen as a threat to a patriarchal-dominated society, whether or not they and their behaviour deserves to be viewed as ‘monstrous’. Like her or loathe her, Margaret Thatcher was a successful politician from the late 1950s, gaining the ultimately most powerful position possible in 1979 when she became Prime Minister of the UK. Thereafter, she became a Monstrous Mother, suppressing the power of her ‘children’, sending them to be killed in unnecessary wars, increasing their poverty and manipulating them with well-timed elections. Eventually, 200,000 of Maggie’s children demonstrated against her policies. There’s definitely a gothic horror story in that! I doubt, however, that Maggie would get as much sympathy as Medea or Carrie…

I’m not sure either if she had an ‘essentially sexual nature’, though no doubt she was the wank fantasy of some BDSM pervs…

Well, anyway, I’m even more grateful to have such a loving mother when you see what’s out there! Mine even gave me a kidney – she’s a keeper!

Until next week: More power to MILFs! Your friend, A.D.

(1) Euripides, Medea & Other Plays Penguin (1963 edition) p9.

(2) Creed, B (1993) Woman as Witch in “The Monstrous Feminine: Film, Feminism, Psychoanalysis” Routledge pp73-83.

(3) Almond, B R (2006) Monstrous Infants and Vampyric Mothers in Bram Stoker’s Dracula in “The International Journal of Psychoanalysis” 2007:88:219-35.

† The Making of the Georgian Nation: 2nd Ed, Ronald Grigor Suny, p 13

Fear, Madness and Repressed Sexuality in Dark Fantasy and Horror

22 Friday Mar 2013

Posted by Alyson Dunlop Shanes in Uncategorized

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Blood, Dark Fantasy, Demons, Desire, Dracula, Fear, Hallucination, Horror, Madness, Psychological, Repressed, Sensuality, Sex, Sexuality, Sleep Paralyis, Vampire

“In a world which is indeed our world, the one we know, a world without devils, sylphides, or vampires, there occurs an event which cannot be explained by the laws of this same familiar world. The person who experiences the event must opt for one of two possible solutions: either he is a victim of an illusion of the senses, of a product of the imagination – and the laws of the world remain what they are; or else the event has indeed taken place, it is an integral part of reality – but then this reality is controlled by laws unknown to us… The fantastic occupies the duration of this uncertainty. Once we choose one answer or the other, we leave the fantastic for a neighbouring genre, the uncanny or the marvellous. The fantastic is that hesitation experienced by a person who knows only the laws of nature, confronting an apparently supernatural event.” (Tzvetan Todorov: The Fantastic, A Structural Approach to a Literary Genre, Press of Case Western Reserve University, Cleveland, Ohio 1975 p25).

In order for horror and dark fantasy to be remotely compelling to the reader, it should be somewhat believable and a tad inexplicable, enough to make us feel ‘creeped out’ or on the edge of our seats, at any rate. Those who read these genres, particularly vampire stories, are often deeply aware of the significance of the literature, if indeed they have not had an experience of sleep paralysis accompanied by hallucination; if hallucination is what demons are, springing from the mind of the victim. The experience of them is every bit as real as you sitting here reading this blog. Throughout literary history there have always been souls who understood what vampires and demons symbolised, as well as how to defeat them.

Our most disturbing fears, if awakened, will teach us something of our present circumstances. These fantastical events never occur without reason. Like attracts like – negative environments and people very often bring their negative influences to our own psyche. Our beliefs, fears and unconscious mind do the rest. By allowing ourselves to remain in that state of mind we open ourselves up to terrifying experiences (or dark energy is attracted to us, whichever you choose to believe). Either way, writers of dark fantasy and horror are often your guiding light in Hell.

These writers usually have a deep understanding of the Otherworld and reader’s darkest fears. They take you there in order that you may better understand the many possible dangers and demons that can be encountered in life; and they hopefully end the story with a solution of how to defeat these monsters.

One of the most famous horror writers is Bram Stoker, author of Dracula. We’ll come to the Count in a minute, but it is interesting that the subject of the disturbed mind is present in the form of Renfield, who has some very important information for the reader. Note too the eccentric figure of Van Helsing, a slightly mad, but genius doctor, who also has the required knowledge of the fantastic as well as the mundane. In fact, many of Stoker’s characters question their sanity throughout the story.

Blood, as the mad Renfield informs us, is the life. By consuming blood, he says, you gain the vital powers of the person whose blood you are draining. This is proved by his Master – Count Dracula – who becomes younger after drinking the blood of the youthful Lucy. She becomes weaker, eventually dying, as he becomes stronger. Mina drinks his blood in some kind of perverse and unholy communion. Dracula is very clearly placed in opposition to God, and we can assume that he therefore represents the Devil himself. In fact, Dracula is indeed compared to the Devil several times. As for Renfield, he is the unfortunate mad man who speaks the truth: the ‘Cassandra’ of this story.

Of course, blood is symbolic of so many things. On the subject of transubstantiation, in some pagan faiths, such as Sioux, there is a long-held belief that eating the flesh of a certain animal empowers you with that animal’s vital essence and spirit, a superstition that undoubtedly found its way around the world in many other guises. Bram Stoker was probably aware of the legend of Countess Bathory who, regardless of whether she did or not, supposedly bathed in the blood of virgins to retain her youth (See Footnote 1). In our modern world, we are well aware that blood transfusion saves lives. This was only a recent discovery in Stoker’s time, but he does mention, and describe, the procedure in Dracula. Most importantly, blood symbolises the potent life and energy we possess. Without it, we die. That life and energy is required so that the figurative vampire may live. In other words, if we let our fears take us over, or repress our innermost desires, we will be drained, disempowered, possibly depressed and eventually die.

Sleeping and night time are, of course, the places you will encounter vampires and other night demons, and in Dracula it is no different. Disturbed sleep is touched upon with the somnambulistic Lucy, who is easier to control when she is in this state. Sleeping people cannot defend themselves, like the state of sleep paralysis mentioned earlier. It is in this state that people are also very often prone to hallucinations. This is a condition which has been described for centuries by those who have reported incubus and succubus attacks. These creatures are night demons who feed upon our energy or have sex with us, in much the same way as Dracula does with Lucy and Mina. Dracula, therefore, is bound up not only with our fears but also with our repressed sexuality. The vampire’s teeth penetrating the neck of his or her victim, is symbolic of sexual penetration and shows our deep-rooted primal desire to be fucked. Hard. By a sexy, charismatic guy with a castle and pet wolves. Possibly. You get the picture. In the half-asleep world of sleep paralysis we are bound, helpless to our inner desires and fears. It is then that the vampire is free to strike, and the hallucination takes over.

Never fear, there is hope, and Stoker et al give us some clues on how to defeat the darkness in our lives. I suppose it’s up to each of us to take what we will out of that, but you’ll have to take a deep breath, pick up the books and face your fears for yourself….

In Sisterhood of the Wolf there is an appearance of a mysterious stranger. To begin with, he is not identified as a vampire, but there are many tell-tale signs. He is dark, with penetrating eyes, and there is an enticing quality about him. Channing knows she should not be anywhere near him, but she simply cannot help herself. There’s also something strange about Channing which, again, the reader will no doubt suspect long before it happens. She should be able to smell the stranger from across the street. That’s some super-power! Nevertheless, even although she cannot, she still gets a warning, a tingling, before she sees him. He has a magical super-power too! He is able to influence her senses and actions. Channing needs no persuasion to follow his command, even though the impression is of a strong independent woman.

This short opening scene is intended to be sensual, sexual, tense and dangerous. I have deliberately cut off the reader at this point, hoping it will leave you all wanting more! What I can say, for now, is that Channing is not scared for her own wellbeing. She’s a woman well able to take care of herself, and that dark stranger better watch out. He is about to bite off much more than he can chew! This is definitely a book for feminists!

Until next week, your friend… A D.

Footnote

1. He was certainly aware of some of the history of eastern Europe, as is evident with his lead character, based on real life Vlad III, Prince of Wallachia, also known by his patronymic name of Dracula. A name he inherited via his father Vlad II Dracul, a member of the Order of the Dragon. The real Dracula’s cruelty was renowned, and his preferred method of execution was impalement, where Stoker no doubt derived the classical image of the stake – one of the methods used to kill vampires.