Varney the Vampire

Chapter 63: In Which the Sound of Footsteps is "Dab, Dab, Dab"

2011-11-09T01:52:00.003-06:00

Previously: Marchdale is evil, apparently. If you missed it, don't worry; JMR includes a helpful recap at the beginning of Chapter 63 (The Guests at the Inn, and the Story of the Dead Uncle).

After we're reminded what happened in the last chapter, we flash back to the inn Marchdale mentioned earlier, where he heard a man say he was going to the ruins at midnight. The innkeeper has decided that a bunch of townspeople looking to get drunk before and/or after vampire hunting is good for business, which amuses me. So does this:

"It's shocking," said one of the guests; "it's shocking to think of. Only last night, I am quite sure I had such a fright that it added at least ten years to my age."

"A fright!" said several.

"I believe I speak English -- I said a fright."

JMR, are you lampshading your tendency towards repetitive and awkwardly expository dialogue, or are you just finding better ways to pad your word count?

One man tells the story of hearing a frightening intruder at midnight. Any suspense is spoiled by the fact that the sound of footsteps coming up the stairs is "Dab, dab, dab." That's right up there with "GRONGGGG!" and "KRR—RR—AAAAAAANG!" in the Glove of Darth Vader series. (That would be the sound of a docking bay door closing and the sound of a submarine leaving the dock, respectively, in case you've blocked those books out of your memory.)

He ends by revealing that it was just the maid knocking something over and waking him, and he was frightened over nothing.

There was a general look of disappointment when this explanation was given, and one said, --

"Then it was not the vampire?"

"Certainly not."

"And, after all, only a clock weight."

"That's about it."

"Why didn't you tell us about that at first?"

"Because that would have spoilt the story."

Well, I can't argue with that.

Soon someone pipes up with:

"Well, although our friend's vampyre has turned out, after all, to be nothing but a confounded clock-weight, there's no disputing the fact about Sir Francis Varney being a vampyre, and not a clock-weight."

And it suddenly occurs to me that JMR's style of dialogue actually works when he's writing people who are drunk and slightly confused.

Tom Eccles, who doesn't believe the vampire exists, makes a bet that he can go to the ruins at night and leave a handkerchief to prove he was there. He leaves, and the rest of the group launch into a conversation about what to do about illegitimate children, and -- wait, what? But the story told does twist back to the subject of the dead rising from the grave, so I guess it works.

I don't have much bad to say about this chapter. The use of dialogue is effective, and the chapter is built around humorous conversation, which provides a nice breather after the Shocking Revelations. The fact that some guy was coming to the ruins was already established by Marchdale and didn't require a flashback to explain, but if JMR needed to use some tangential ghostly tales to pad things out, this is at least better grounded in the story of Varney the Vampire than his previous efforts were.

Digression: The Vampire: His Kith and Kin by Montague Summers

2011-11-08T12:35:00.001-06:00

Apparently there's a new critical edition of The Vampire: His Kith and Kin that came out this year. Want!

Montague Summers is a bit batty (for one, he thinks Varney the Vampire has more literary value than Dracula), but the book is definitely worth reading, particularly the last chapter on the vampire in literature. It was great help to me when I was researching the vampire in opera.

I've got a copy up on The Vampyre Site in which I painstakingly fixed the issues I saw in several other online copies (particularly footnotes not matching up and problems with foreign language text), so you can go check it out there if you're not sure you want to put out $22 for the critical edition.

I'm also working on some more Montague Summers for The Vampyre Site, so stay tuned.

Varney post up later today!

Chapter 62: In Which There is a Surprising Reveal (Other Than the Fact That The Blogger Updated)

2011-11-03T03:51:00.001-05:00

Hey, I exist! I know, it surprises me too, sometimes.

It's fitting that this chapter returns to something raised way back in Chapter 29, which I sorely wished to see developed: the prisoner in the ruins. Chapter 62 (The Mysterious Meeting in the Ruin Again. -- The Vampyre's Attack Upon the Constable.) The chapter begins with Varney waiting for someone at the ruins. I like this line because it's such a typical vampire image, and it's cool to picture:

His form was enveloped in a large cloak, which was of such ample material that he seemed well able to wrap it several times around him, and then leave a considerable portion of it floating idly in the gentle wind.

I also like the next little bit about him impatiently checking a pocket watch because it reminds me of the last scene where he was impatiently checking the clock, in which ~~the author~~ Varney got so nervous and flustered that he lost track of time and had to ~~insert more padding~~ read a book until midnight.

The Other Guy shows up and delivers a brief recap of the Dangers of the Mob Hunting the Vampyre, and says that a (possibly slightly drunk) guy vowed to go to the ruins and watch for the vampire. "Let us retire further into the recesses of the ruin," Varney suggests, which just makes me picture this scene as part of a low-budget movie with really awkward blocking.

The Other Guy helpfully fills in the audience on who he's talking to:

"I am annoyed, although the feeling reaches no farther than annoyance, for I have a natural love of mischief, to think that my reputation has spread so widely, and made so much noise."

"Your reputation as a vampyre, Sir Francis Varney, you mean?"

"Yes; but there is no occasion for you to utter my name aloud, even here where we are alone together."

"It came out unawares."

"Unawares! Can it be possible that you have so little command over yourself as to allow a name to come from your lips unawares?"

"Sometimes."

"I am surprised."

"Well, it cannot be helped."

I can't actually complain about this exchange, because although saying the name comes across as pretty silly, the dialogue afterwards made me laugh.

Varney declares that once he's done taking over Bannerworth Hall, the prisoner must die. The Other Guy objects to this with more random awkward blurting of names:

"Listen. I will not have the life of Charles Holland taken."

Okay, yeah, that was a little obvious.

They start to head out because the guy who's watching for the vampire might be there. (Don't worry; he stars in the next chapter!) But the final reveal is:

Varney, the vampyre, who had been holding this conversation with no other than Marchdale...

That twist legitimately surprised me. I'll have to review all the previous chapters to see if I've just forgotten the foreshadowing in the months since I've worked on this blog, or if it was pulled out of an ass. But either way, JMR, you didn't think to continue the accidental running gag of Marchdale randomly blurting out people's names to surprise the reader? For shame. Ending the chapter with "...if my name isn't Marchdale!" or the like would have been hilarious.

Chapter 61: In Which the Blogger Is Reminded of Why She Keeps Reading and Why She Wants to Stop, All in the Same Chapter

2011-02-15T14:50:00.004-06:00

I know it was far too long ago, but remember my complaint about Chapter 59? How JMR had set up something quite interesting in Chapter 58, and then knocked it down with a quick "sorry, just Jack being stupid again"?

In Chapter 61 (Chapter LXI. THE MYSTERIOUS STRANGER. -- THE PARTICULARS OF THE SUICIDE AT BANNERWORTH HALL.), it's clear that JMR is getting frightfully lazy about even that. The previous chapter ends with Varney disappearing. Chapter 61 begins with this:

"Hilloa where the deuce is he?" said the admiral. "Was there ever such a confounded take-in?"

"Well, I really don't know," said Mr. Chillingworth; "but it seems to me that he must have gone out of that door that was behind him."

It's probably stupid for me to get pissed off about this. Varney clearly doesn't just disappear into midair at the end of Chapter 60; he causes a distraction and disappears when Chillingworth and the admiral aren't looking. That scene would certainly not get put on the list of evidence that Varney is actually a real vampire and not just trying to freak everyone out.

But it annoys me that JMR can't just leave it at that, where even if Varney does just escape through sleight-of-hand it's still a cool trick. He has to get all blasé about it. "Ho hum, I suppose he just ran out the door," with the sense of, "well, anyone could do that!"

I don't know; maybe Chillingworth's just jealous.

Moving on: a Mr. Mortimer comes to see Varney, presumably just so Henry (who conveniently rushes in moments later) can recap the plot to him. Chillingworth, Henry, and the admiral head back to Bannerworth Hall. "I perceive that, naturally, we are all three walking towards Bannerworth Hall," says Chillingworth in the middle of the walk, because that's a perfectly normal thing to say when you're a character in Varney the Vampire.

Eventually they reach the garden and sit down in the summer-house.

Henry was silent for some few moments, and then he said, with a deep sigh, as he looked mournfully around him, --

"It was on this spot that my father breathed his last..."

"Oh?" said the admiral; "he died here, did he?"

Okay, this made me laugh. Is it repeating dialogue for padding purposes? Is it purposely characterizing the admiral as lacking tact or social graces? Why can't it be both?

So they drone on a bit about Henry's father and exactly what he could see from this spot on the day that he died, as if the admiral and Chillingworth failed a spot check and now need Henry to describe all of the scenery to them in excruciating detail.

"You see," added Henry, "that from here the fullest view you have of any of the windows of the house is of that of Flora's room, as we have always called it, because for years she had had it as her chamber..."

Sometimes the jokes just write themselves.

Henry tells the long and sad story about how his father was a noble man who meant well, but his friends corrupted him and got him addicted to gambling so that he fell into debt. He spends a great deal of time by the portrait of Varney, receives a letter that throws him into a fright, and commits suicide. His last words are, "The money is hidden!"

He finishes the story, and then suddenly, out of f---ing nowhere: Jack Pringle! I don't even know what he's doing here, and neither do the characters. The three end up deciding that Bannerworth Hall should not be left unattended, so Henry and the admiral stay while Chillingworth goes to town.

This was an ass of a chapter to get through, but ultimately it made me realize that the whole mystery of what Henry's father did with his money and how that has to do with Varney is what I really want to be reading about. Why do we need all these ridiculous filler chapters?

Chapter 60: In Which Another (More Bizarre) Duel is Proposed

2011-01-31T00:16:00.003-06:00

I really cannot believe how close I am to the end of Part I. I bet I can finish this by next month if I try!

When we left off last, people were being stupid (and by "people," I mean Jack and also JMR). Chapter 60 (THE INTERRUPTED BREAKFAST AT SIR FRANCIS VARNEY'S.) starts off with a sentence I really like:

Notwithstanding all Mr. Chillingworth could say to the contrary, the admiral really meant to breakfast with Sir Francis Varney.

It sets the scene succinctly, and in its succinctness it's kind of funny. As usual, JMR has to go and ruin it by stating the exact same thing in the next paragraph, except longer and more annoying.

The next bit of dialogue is some pretty typical "but is he a vampire or not?" discussion, followed by the Admiral and Chillingworth meeting Varney at his temporary new home. Which is then followed by the Admiral accusing Varney of being a vampire, some general squabbling, and the arrangement of a duel...

Wait a minute, didn't this all happen before?

Except this time the duel is supposed to be with two scythes, and

"...with these scythes we be both of us placed in the darkened room, and the door closed, and doubly locked upon us for one hour, and that then and there we do our best each to cut the other in two. If you succeed in dismembering me, you will have won the day; but I hope, from my superior agility" -- here Sir Francis jumped upon his chair, and sat upon the back of it -- "to get the better of you."

It's like someone started writing a parody of the first two-thirds of the chapters in Part I. But come to think of it, I might rather read that book.

Chapter 59: In Which There Was Never Such a Stupid; The Admiral Said So Himself

2010-12-27T00:43:00.003-06:00

The previous chapter was awesome. The descriptions worked well to build suspense and emotion, and we finally got to explore another facet of the story's supernatural element. It made me feel that, however slowly it moves, the story has direction once again.

Chapter 59 (THE WARNING. -- THE NEW PLAN OF OPERATION. -- THE INSULTING MESSAGE FROM VARNEY.) does start off slowly. Jack vascillates between being legitimately funny and being written into that really annoying forced humor where you just want to laugh so the author will be satisfied and stop. He probably would have ruined Chapter 58 if it hadn't been so good to begin with, and I could really do without him here.

Chillingworth tells the Admiral that they've made a mistake: they should have let Varney enter the house, then tried to catch him on the way out. There have been so many instances of the characters behaving in really stupid ways around the vampire, so it's nice to see them learning from it.

But back to Jack. Someone commented a while back arguing an alternate interpretation of Varney the Vampire: Varney is not a real vampire, and all the supernatural elements are just smoke and mirrors. While that theory doesn't convince me based on the text itself, sometimes I find it plausible that it's what JMR was going for -- but if it was, I think he executed it ineptly.

Because that awesome suspenseful scene at the end of Chapter 58? Was just Jack being a complete idiot.

I mean, this could be an interesting plot device if JMR didn't just consistently have stuff happen and have characters immediately retcon it in the next chapter. I don't think "it's all smoke and mirrors" would make Varney a bad story. But there's got to be more suspense, more mystery, something more involved than this f***ery.

I must give JMR some credit for the end of the chapter, however, because he brings back that Varney I know and love. The smug, manipulative a**hole who breaks into someone's house at night and then invites them to breakfast the next morning.

"That's about the coolest piece of business," said Mr. Chillingworth, "that ever I heard of."

Indeed it is.

Chapter 58: In Which The Book Can't Get Any Awesomer Than This

2010-12-13T00:40:00.001-06:00

Man, over a year working on this blog (however intermittently) and I'm only just nearing the end of Book 1. If you haven't yet realized how ridiculous Varney the Vampire is, that should teach you something.

The previous chapter concerned the Admiral and Dr. Chillingworth trying to catch the vampire in a trap, ending just as they heard a mysterious noise. In Chapter 58 (THE ARRIVAL OF JACK PRINGLE -- MIDNIGHT AND THE VAMPYRE. -- THE MYSTERIOUS HAT.), we immediately learn that it was only Jack.

I hope y'all skipped ahead instead of waiting two months to find out how that cliffhanger resolved, because that's got to be a hell of a letdown.

Apparently Jack has gone out and gotten drunk, and the Admiral tells him off for ruining the plan to catch the vampire while Chillingworth keeps trying to break up the fight, with as little success as you might expect. The dialogue feels a bit forced, but works well enough to express the character dynamics. And actually the resolution of the problem is pretty funny, if as abrupt as I've come to generally expect from JMR:

Jack staggered after him, and they all reached the room where the admiral and Mr. Chillingworth had been sitting before the alarm.

"There!" said the admiral, putting the light upon the table, and pointing to the bottle; "what do yo think of that?"

"I never thinks under such circumstances," said Jack. "Here's to the wooden walls of old England!"

He seized the bottle, and, putting its neck into his mouth, for a few moments nothing was heard but a gurgling sound of the liquor passing down his throat; his head went further and further back, until, at last, over he went, chair and bottle and all, and lay in a helpless state of intoxication on the floor.

"So far, so good," said the admiral. "He's out of the way, at all events."

As soon as that's done, they hear something again, and we get this interesting exchange:

"Hist!" said the doctor. "Not a word. They come."

"What do you say they for?" said the admiral.

"Because something seems to whisper me that Mr. Marchdale knows more of Varney, the vampyre, than ever he has chosen to reveal. Put out the light."

The ensuing scene where Varney sneaks into the house feels needlessly padded, even for JMR. For example:

He turned his side to the apartment, and, as he did so, the bright moonlight fell upon his face, enabling Mr. Chillingworth to see, without the shadow of a doubt, that it was, indeed, Varney, the vampyre, who was thus stealthily making his entrance into Bannerworth Hall, according to the calculation which had been made by the admiral upon that subject.

Really? That's really how you're going to do the reveal of the vampire, with a rambling sentence repeating what we knew from the first half of the chapter? I suppose I should just be glad that my gut feeling was wrong and this wasn't just another red herring.

Anyway, they try to catch Varney, but end up only grabbing his boot. I was pleasantly surprised by the fact that Chillingworth suddenly grew a spine:

"Yes, you are done," said the doctor; "why didn't you lay hold of the leg while you were about it, instead of the boot? Admiral, are these your tactics?"

The chapter actually ends on a high note, so I'm just going to keep quoting passages I like.

"D -- n it!" he said, "this puts me in mind of old times. Blaze away, you thieves, while I load; broadside to broadside. It's your turn now; I scorn to take an advantage. What the devil's that?"

Something very large and very heavy came bang against the window, sending it all into the room, and nearly smothering the admiral with the fragments. Another shot was then fired, and in came something else, which hit the wall on the opposite side of the room, rebounding from thence on to the doctor, who gave a yell of despair.

I love this bit because JMR has suddenly hit upon the exact right amount of detail for the situation. Even though the second paragraph is worded so matter-of-factly, I got a strong sense of the characters' emotions -- particularly the confusion over what or who, exactly, has caused this.

Then we get a bit more of drunk!Jack antics before the Big Reveal:

At this instant there was a strange hissing sound heard below the window; then there was a sudden, loud report, as if a hand-grenade had gone off. A spectral sort of light gleamed into the room, and a tall, gaunt-looking figure rose slowly up in the balcony.

"Beware of the dead!" said a voice. "Let the living contend with the living, the dead with the dead. Beware!"

The figure disappeared, as did also the strange, spectral-looking light. A deathlike silence ensued, and the cold moonbeams streamed in upon the floor of the apartment, as if nothing had occurred to disturb the wrapped repose and serenity of the scene.

This. Is. F***ing. Awesome.

Seriously, these three paragraphs are probably the awesomest thing that has happened since Varney the Vampire began. Generally, waiting until Chapter 58 (a full quarter of the way through the book, although JMR wouldn't have known at the time) to really start exploring the supernatural mythos is a colossally stupid idea... and actually, that's not untrue here. But I've been waiting so long to see some kind of payoff, and I am incredibly happy that JMR can still manage to surprise me.

In Which the Blogger Calls Attention to Her Entirely Predictable Absence

2010-11-22T23:05:00.000-06:00

Sorry, guys. My health has just been s*** lately and I have not done much writing of any kind this month. But here, have a slightly related article about Star Wars vampires to tie you over for the next two weeks or so until I get back on track.

Chapter 57: In Which I Suddenly Enjoy Waiting for the Vampire

2010-10-25T00:37:00.002-05:00

In the previous chapter, we finally got back to the Bannerworths just as they finally moved out of their house. Chapter 57 (THE LONELY WATCH, AND THE ADVENTURE IN THE DESERTED HOUSE.) begins with a nice melodramatic description about the night:

It was one of those nights to produce melancholy reflections -- a night on which a man would be apt to review his past life, and to look into the hidden recesses of his soul to see if conscience could make a coward of him in the loneliness and stillness that breathed around.

It goes on like that for a while until we get to the personified Bannerworth Hall, which is getting all emo because the Bannerworths deserted it:

It seemed as if twenty years of continued occupation could not have produced such an effect upon the ancient edifice as had those few hours of neglect and desertion.

All this leading up to Admiral Bell and Dr. Chillingworth sitting in Flora's room with weapons, waiting for the vampire's return. Why they think the vampire is going to return that night other than the plot saying so, I'm not sure, but I'm not about to argue too much when it appears that something exciting might be about to happen.

By the way, here's exactly what I mean about the Admiral being funny when he's playing off someone:

"... as to our efforts being crowned with success, why, I'll give you a toast, doctor, 'may the morning's reflection provide for the evening's amusement.'"

"Ha! ha!" said Chillingworth, faintly; "I'd rather not drink any more, and you seem, admiral, to have transposed the toast in some way. I believe it runs, 'may the evening's amusement bear the morning's reflection.'"

"Transpose the devil!" said the admiral; "what do I care how it runs? I gave you my toast, and as to that you mention, it's another one altogether, and a sneaking, shore-going one too: but why don't you drink?"

It turns out the Admiral has set a trap, locking up all the windows except for one, under which he's placed some precariously balanced crockery.

Naturally, there's a cat scare right after he says this, by which I mean a cat knocks over the crockery. But I actually really like that bit. It actually builds the suspense, rather than JMR saying something is going to happen and either a) making it happen immediately or b) making it happen ten chapters later after we've forgotten about it entirely.

They find the cat, put out the light, and hear a whistle from the garden, and with that cliffhanger I'm actually looking forward to reading the next chapter.

Digression: The Vampyre Site

2010-10-24T23:00:00.000-05:00

Working on an actual post for before I go to bed tonight. In the meantime, check out my new site, The Vampyre Site! There are already a bunch of articles and short stories about vampires, as well as resources about everyone's favorite vampire opera, Der Vampyr. (Okay, so there aren't that many vampire operas to pick from.)

I noticed a while ago that none of the online versions of Varney the Vampire contain all of the illustrations (and few even have a couple), so I'm working on scanning those in to add to the website, plus some more stories & resources that I have to add in the meantime.

Chapter 56: In Which the Bannerworths Finally Leave

2010-10-20T23:38:00.002-05:00

So, the previous chapter had no sign of Varney, just some more irrelevant filler. At least Chapter 56 (THE DEPARTURE OF THE BANNERWORTHS FROM THE HALL. -- THE NEW ABODE. -- JACK PRINGLE, PILOT.) marks the return of the characters we know and ~~love~~ occasionally tolerate: the Bannerworths & co.

The Bannerworths have finally decided to leave the hall instead of holding another drawn-out meeting about it, the Admiral having convinced them it was a good idea way back in Chapter I'm-not-looking-up-a-link-right-now.

Henry says to the Admiral: "here we are, trusting implicitly to you"; and for some reason the phrasing of that line just strikes me as funny. I know the awkwardness is just classic JMR dialogue, but it sort of has the feel of overeagerness, a shifty-eyed "of course I trust you; I haven't left some kind of sinister surprise for you when we leave."

Or maybe it's just me. It'd never happen, in any case.

The Admiral reassures Henry that he can defend himself against the vampire, and reassures Flora that she will at long last be away from her attacker. The Bannerworths (and Jack, who is accompanying them as comic relief) say farewell to the Admiral (and Dr. Chillingworth).

With the separation of Jack from the Admiral, JMR seems to be trying out a new running gag wherein Jack says something in sailor slang and the others stare blankly. Actually I can't tell if it's a running gag yet and not just a one-off, but from the way it was abruptly shoehorned into the beginning of the chapter ("Oh, it's a seaman's report. I know what he means; it's quicker and plainer than the land lingo, to my ears, and Jack can't talk any other, you see," says the Admiral) and then appears towards the end, that's what it feels like.

It's not funny for the same reason that a lot of JMR's attempts at humor aren't funny (see also: the last chapter): because they don't involve interaction. The Admiral and Jack are funny when they interact with each other. The Admiral is funny when he interacts with other people. Jack is a little too forced for me to find him funny most of the time, but he's funny when there's an actual interaction, and not just him saying something that's supposed to be funny and no one else really understanding it.

At any rate, the Bannerworths reach their destination uneventfully, and we've got to wait until the next Sunday post (which shall hopefully not be on Wednesday again) to find out what happens after the big cliffhanger at the end of this chapter: why can't the Bannerworths enter the garden yet????

Chapter 55: In Which the Mob Stumbles Around in the Dark Because It's Funny, I Guess

2010-10-15T19:27:00.002-05:00

So this week's Wednesday post is on Friday. Don't judge me.

Previously in Varney the Vampire, the mob watch Varney's house burn and presume (or, perhaps, hope) that he's dead. In Chapter 55 (Chapter LV. THE RETURN OF THE MOB AND MILITARY TO THE TOWN. -- THE MADNESS OF THE MOB. -- THE GROCER'S REVENGE.) is, I suppose, a coda to the overly-long episode of the mob attacking Varney.

The mob leaves the house after the fire burns out (excuse me, after "the termination of the conflagration," because it has more syllables). They go back to the village and, since burning down Varney's house was clearly not enough excitement for one night, decide that they're still bored and play practical jokes on each other.

It occurred to me as I finished this chapter that it was full of accidental suspense. For example, some guys decide it would be great fun to see who can jump over a muddy ditch. Some of them jump in and turn into ginormous drama queens about how now they're wet and muddy and are clearly going to die. Having seen a few horror movies, my first thought was that Varney must have been hiding in the mud at the bottom of the ditch and they were going to discover them/he was going to attack them.

Same thing in the middle of the scene where some guy decides to get revenge on some other guy by throwing pitch at him. As he's trying to figure out how to scrape pitch off some pickets, he reaches down and "found he had inserted his hand into something soft." Surely this must be something to draw us back to the main plot, right? But no, it's just a pail of pitch, and there are some more unfunny antics to finish up the irrelevant chapter.

Chapter 56: In Which the Bannerworths Finally Leave

Chapter 54: In Which Varney Obviously Isn't Dead -- He's the Title Character

2010-10-10T19:41:00.002-05:00

Sorry about the lack of posting last Sunday; I was sick all last week and so devoted myself to work that doesn't take a whole lot of attention, like reformatting old books or waiting an hour for my old POS laptop to start up.

In the previous chapter, the mob set Varney's house on fire. Chapter 54 (THE BURNING OF VARNEY'S HOUSE. -- A NIGHT SCENE. -- POPULAR SUPERSTITION.) begins with the sergeant reporting back to his superior officer about the fire. The superior officer sends him back for information, presumably so that JMR can repeat the whole thing about Varney supposedly dying in the fire for the benefit of readers who came in late.

The man who reports the summary of previous events to the sergeant starts out as kind of a smartass but gradually becomes helpful, offering to report to the superior officer himself. But he mentions that Varney is a vampire and suddenly no one will take him seriously.

Meanwhile, the mob continues to watch the fire well into the night, afraid to venture into the dark in case the vampire is still alive and ready to attack. I actually rather like the last bit of the chapter, so I'll quote it in its entirety to increase this post's word count:

The hours passed away, and the house that had been that morning a noble and well-furnished mansion, was now a smouldering heap of ruins. The flames had become somewhat subdued, and there was now more smoke than flames.

The fire had exhausted itself. There was now no more material that could serve it for fuel, and the flames began to become gradually enough subdued.

Suddenly there was a rush, and then a bright flame shot upward for an instant, so bright and so strong, that it threw a flash of light over the country for miles; but it it was only momentary, and it subsided.

The roof, which had been built strong enough to resist almost anything, after being burning for a considerable time, suddenly gave way, and came in with a tremendous crash, and then all was for a moment darkness.

After this the fire might be said to be subdued, it having burned itself out; and the flames that could now be seen were but the result of so much charred wood, that would probably smoulder away for a day or two, if left to itself to do so. A dense mass of smoke arose from the ruins, and blackened the atmosphere around, and told the spectators the work was done.

Since I'm getting frustrated with short chapters/chapters with not much to say about them and want to get through this book a bit faster, Wednesday posting shall (hopefully!) resume this week. Stay tuned!

Chapter 53: In Which The Military Suddenly Doesn't Care About the Mob

2010-09-27T00:40:00.002-05:00

Previously in Varney the Vampire: Varney keeps a wine cellar full of blood. Maybe.

(Finally, my Internet connection is back! It's like it knows when I'm trying to make a blog post, or something.)

So, this chapter begins with the mob setting Varney's house on fire, just in case he's still hiding in there. And then there's this whole thing about how if vampires got married they wouldn't want to live forever and ha ha women are awful isn't that hilarious.

And then the military shows up and everyone's like, "Ho hum, can't prove who did what so might as well not worry about it. Serves Varney right for not getting out of town when people started accusing him of vampirism." Seriously?

I feel terrible for this being so short as well as late but I swear to God that is all that happens.

Chapter 54: In Which Varney Obviously Isn't Dead -- He's the Title Character

Chapter 52: In Which Varney Makes a Cameo

2010-09-19T21:13:00.002-05:00

Previously in Varney the Vampire: The mob's attack is drawn out about three chapters longer than necessary.

Chapter 52 (THE INTERVIEW BETWEEN THE MOB AND SIR FRNCIS VARNEY. -- THE MYSTERIOUS DISAPPEARANCE. -- THE WINE CELLARS.) begins with what is probably the most egregious padding I've seen so far in Varney the Vampire:

"Hurrah!" shouted the mob below.

"Hurrah!" shouted the mob above....

"Down with the vampyre!" they shouted.

"Down with the vampyre!" shouted they.

Either that or it's an attempt to attract younger readers to the story. "See Dick run. See Jane run. See Dick stake the vampire. Stake, Dick, stake!"

Then the mob comes across Varney, and what can I say about Varney except that I love him.

"Gentlemen," said Sir Francis Varney, rising, with the blandest of smiles, "pray, gentlemen, permit me to inquire the cause of this condescension on your part. The visit is kind."

It's just amazing how subtle he is, how his calmness is so consistently the most threatening thing about him. On the one hand it works because it's a bit crazymaking -- "he's acting so calm and clueless, perhaps he's not a vampire after all and we're just imagining all this" -- and on the other hand it speaks to just how powerful the vampire is -- if you're about to attack someone and he's so confident that he doesn't even try to defend himself, either he's monumentally stupid or you're about to get f***ed.

Of course, Varney's bluffing a little, because rather than face the mob he mysteriously disappears. Which segues nicely into the next few hundred words of padding, which essentially amount to "where did he go?" and "he's a vampire!" repeated ad nauseum.

The really interesting bit in this chapter, however, comes after the mob raid Varney's wine cellar:

"What are you drinking?"

"Wine."

"What wine?"

"Danged if I know," was the reply. "It's wine, I suppose; for I know it ain't beer nor spirits; so it must be wine."

"Are you sure it ain't bottled men's blood?"

"Eh?"

"Bottled blood, man! Who knows what a vampyre drinks? It may be his wine. He may feast upon that before he goes to bed of a night, drink anybody's health, and make himself cheerful on bottled blood!"

"Oh, danged! I'm so sick; I wish I hadn't taken the stuff. It may be as you say, neighbour, and then we be cannibals."

"Or vampyres."

"There's a pretty thing to think of."

Vampires disguising their blood as wine -- another vampire trope I had no idea showed up so early. (Any early vampire lit experts know of an earlier fictional appearance? I checked what I knew of but couldn't find one.) The suggestion, of course, causes the mob to become paranoid and dump all the wine.

But was Varney's wine cellar actually filled with blood? We've seen Varney refuse wine in the past, suggesting that he can't consume any food or drink besides blood, so why would he keep so much wine in the house? On the other hand, he has food and drink available when Henry and Marchdale visit, so he must keep it around for guests as well as to keep up appearances.

The main problem, however, is simply that (unless any blood-drinkers in the comments care to correct me on this) blood tastes nothing like wine, so if the mob just thinks the wine tastes a little funny I'm going to chalk that one up to their paranoia. I've seen the "vampire tricks human into drinking blood by pretending it's wine" trope in other vampire fiction, which seems to rely on the nonsensical premise of "if it looks vaguely similar it must taste the same."

People who believe that, remind me never to eat anything you cook.

Chapter 53: In Which The Military Suddenly Doesn't Care About the Mob

Chapter 51: In Which Conveniently, No One Gets Hurt

2010-09-12T22:01:00.002-05:00

Previously in Varney the Vampire: The mob try to attack Varney by knocking on the door.

I know I've been picking on chapter titles too often lately. But really, I was surprised by the title of Chapter 51 (THE ATTACK UPON THE VAMPYRE'S HOUSE. -- THE FURY OF THE ATTACK. -- THE FORCING OF THE DOORS, AND THE STRUGGLE.). With all the trouble trying to knock on the door in the previous chapter, I'd have thought it would take them until at least Chapter 52 to figure out that they should try to force it.

The mob, despite being my favorite character for a while, has quickly fallen from my favor. Oh, how fickle the minds of readers (and the characterization of JMR!). At any rate, I rather like the person who's opening the door and mocking them after their ineffectual attempts to open it: "You had better cease that kind of annoyance."

So he tries to scare the mob off with a gun, but conveniently can't aim well enough to kill anyone. Then there's a needless repeat of the mob's conversation from earlier in the chapter ("Let's kill the vampire so he doesn't suck our blood while we sleep!" "Hurrah!").

Then the mob actually makes a successful attack, and I'm not sure where their sudden competence comes from. Although conveniently none of the servants get killed, just knocked out -- and you know what, I'm finding JMR's tone a little weird in these "conveniently no one got hurt!" lines. I mean, with all his previous tut-tutting about how awful and immoral the mob was, you'd think killing innocent humans on the way to a vampire would be a good way to show how evil they were. But for some reason JMR abruptly switched to an (occasionally funny, I admit) comedy in the previous chapter, and once again I'm stuck not quite knowing what his point is and where he's going.

But in the next chapter Varney actually converses with the mob, so that should be something, at least.

Chapter 52: In Which Varney Makes a Cameo

Chapter 50: In Which JMR is a Chapter Behind

2010-09-05T21:18:00.001-05:00

Previously in Varney the Vampire: The mob are arrested in the most boring way imaginable.

As we start Chapter 50 (THE MOB'S ARRIVAL AT SIR FRANCIS VARNEY'S. -- THE ATTEMPT TO GAIN ADMISSION.) -- wait, isn't that the exact same chapter title as the previous chapter? F*** you, JMR.

Thankfully in this one, the mob actually does arrive at Varney's house, and predictably starts clamoring for his death. In tones of "rage and disappointment," apparently, which just makes me picture the mob wagging their fingers at Varney and sternly warning him that if he doesn't start being a good little vampire they'll make him sit in the corner without his supper.

And then Varney would slaughter them all and drink his supper from their blood-spurting wounds. The end.

But let's return to the actual story. Somehow the members of the mob who escaped before the others were arrested got a tip that Varney would be at home, because where else would you hide when a mob was coming to kill you?

Their plan to defeat him is as follows:

Approach quietly, so as not to warn him.
Knock on the door.
Prop the door open with a stick so they can force their way in.
???
Profit!

Or something to that effect. It predictably goes awry when no one answers the door, leading to this wonderful line:

The knock for admission produced no effect; and, after waiting three or four minutes, it was very provoking to find such a wonderful amount of caution and cunning completely thrown away.

Not knowing what else to do, they knock again, and I rather like this little exchange, too:

"Well?" said the man who appeared at the little opening.

"Oh," said he who had knocked; "I -- "

"Well?"

"I -- that is to say -- ahem! Is Sir Francis Varney within?"

"Well?"

"I say, is Sir Francis Varney within?"

"Well; you have said it!"

"Ah, but you have not answered it."

"No."

"Well, is he at home?"

"I decline saying; so you had better, all of you, go back to the town again, for we are well provided with all material to resist any attack you may be fools enough to make."

And so the chapter ends on the biggest cliffhanger of all time, with the mob scratching their heads and probably wondering if they should just try knocking again.

(SPOILER: That's exactly what they do in Chapter 51.)

Digression: Vampire Story vs. Story with Vampires

2010-09-01T23:26:00.000-05:00

This is a bit rambly. Consider yourself warned.

So this question came into my mind when I was watching Blood Ties (3 a.m. Eastern time on Lifetime! ~~not that I stay up that late~~) and started comparing it to Forever Knight. There are a great many differences between the shows, but the major difference is the presence of the vampire.

In Forever Knight, Nick is the center of the story, and his struggle against his vampire nature is the driving force of the show's long-term story arc. In Blood Ties, on the other hand, the story is about a human, Vicki. Henry helps introduce her to the world of the paranormal, and the fact that he's a vampire lends a particular tone to the show, but the main story wouldn't change much if he were a different kind of supernatural creature.

But then again, you could say that about any story. When there are only so many basic plots and it's the details that make the stories different, it's not really fair to randomly swap out those details and claim you're keeping the essence of the story.

I haven't fully thought this through, but I wanted to open it up for discussion: what's the difference between a vampire story and a story with vampires in it, or is the difference even significant enough to be worth noting?

Chapter 49: In Which the Mob is Easily Captured (Except for the Ones Who Escape)

2010-08-29T18:44:00.001-05:00

Previously in Varney the Vampire: The mob stakes a vampire. Maybe.

If I still had the delusion that the chapter titles in Varney the Vampire had anything to do with their contents, Chapter 49 (THE MOB'S ARRIVAL AT SIR FRANCIS VARNEY'S. -- THE ATTEMPT TO GAIN ADMISSION.) would be a disappointment. Thankfully I was cured of that unreasonable expectation around Chapter 3.

The chapter begins with the soldiers and police trying to figure out what to do about the mob. The soldiers soon enter the room where the mob staked a dead body and are immediately Shocked and Appalled. They try to capture the mob; the mob threatens to resist; they shoot at the mob, who are similarly Shocked and Appalled that things have turned violent; and the mob scramble over each other trying to escape.

JMR quickly reassures us that the soldiers were firing blanks, just in case we don't believe the soldier who quickly reassures the onlookers that they're firing blanks. In any case, the mob is soon subdued and marched off to jail.

In the midst of all this, some of the mob escaped and headed off to Varney's house. I imagine we'll hear about this in a chapter or three. The only thing really memorable about this one is how oddly distant and disinterested the narration seems, as if JMR has run out of things to lecture us about.

Chapter 48: In Which a Vampire Finally Gets Staked (Maybe)

2010-08-23T22:18:00.001-05:00

Previously in Varney the Vampire: Varney checks up on the Bannerworths and the mob discovers a "vampire."

In Chapter 48 (THE STAKE AND THE DEAD BODY.) begins with a sentence masquerading as a paragraph, which I read three times and then gave up on:

The mob seemed from the first to have an impression that, as regarded the military force, no very serious results would arise from that quarter, for it was not to be supposed that, on an occasion which could not possibly arouse any ill blood on the part of the soldiery, or on which they could have the least personal feeling, they would like to get a bad name, which would stick to them for years to come.

It continues fairly soon with the woman at the end of the previous chapter, who thought a dead man was a vampire. Other townspeople crowd around the body to examine it. They summon a man who saw the body a few days ago, who confirms that it looks fresher now than it did when he first died.

So they decide that they must drive a stake through the body. Interestingly, the heart isn't specified as it is in many vampire stories; just the stake itself, "it was currently believed, inflicted so much physical injury to the frame, as to render his resuscitation out of the question."

The act itself is carried out by a handful of drunk guys unaffiliated with the current on-lookers -- I suppose that's so JMR (who puts on great airs of horror and disgust at the violation of the body) can continue looking down at the mob while mostly viewing them as stupid and misguided, rather than evil.

Was the guy actually a vampire? It's hard to say, although JMR comes down pretty strongly on the side of "no, and you're stupid for believing that there might be vampires in a vampire story."

But whether he was or wasn't, the problem with this scene is that it exists only so JMR can do what he's done every single chapter since the mob was introduced: smack us over the head with how stupid and uncivilized they are. The whole "drive a stake through the heart/cut off the head of someone who might have been turned to prevent them from rising" is a classic vampire trope, and in most stories it works because we are familiar with -- and care about -- both the character who's dead and the character doing the staking. It becomes a poignant moment of angst, reinforcing the loss of the loved one and demonstrating that the vampire slayer will do whatever it takes to stop others from getting hurt.

The mob is a sort of character, certainly, but by bringing in some random guys to do the deed, JMR fails to show the impact of the staking on that character. Worse than that, he gives the mob someone to look down on -- someone who's reviled for doing the dirty work that, if the mob is correct in their assumptions of vampirism, needs to get done. Like so much of the story, it's just all too convenient.

Chapter 47: In Which We Encounter an Odd Combination of Fiction and Folklore

2010-08-15T23:01:00.002-05:00

Previously in Varney the Vampire: Nothing much happens that we haven't been over before.

Chapter 47 (THE REMOVAL FROM THE HALL. -- THE NIGHT WATCH, AND THE ALARM.) begins with -- of all things! -- an argument between Henry and the Admiral over who gets to keep the furniture when the Bannerworths move out. It's amazing how dull the Admiral can get when thrown into such a context.

Thankfully they're interrupted by Varney's servant, who comes under the pretense of seeing how they are after the "flurry and excitement." It's just so very Varney: a smug reminder -- I'm still here! -- coupled with an underhanded, passive-aggressive "oh, I didn't hurt you, did I?"

To express their displeasure, they take the servant and stick him under the water pump. I guess that's what one did before the invention of toilet bowls.

Anyway, we then return to the mob. There's an interesting bit here when they're trying to figure out how the butcher got out of his coffin:

...nothing was more natural, when anybody died who was capable of becoming a vampyre, than for other vampyres who knew it to dig him up, and lay him out in the cold beams of the moonlight, until he acquired the same sort of vitality they themselves possessed, and joined their horrible fraternity.

So we have the whole moonlight thing again, not just as a healing source but as a necessary step in the process of making a vampire. The importance of moonlight is interesting in and of itself, since it doesn't seem to have a basis in folklore but rather in Polidori's "The Vampyre." Since Varney the Vampyre is one of the earliest pieces of vampire fiction, it illustrates the beginning of vampire stories building on each others' established universes as well as folklore, until the folklore gradually becomes all but forgotten.

(See also the criticisms of Twilight along the lines of "if Meyer had researched vampires she'd know they can't go out in the daylight!" There are many reasonable criticisms of Twilight but "it doesn't follow trends that other authors made up" is hardly one of them. But I digress.)

Then we move to a young man who has recently died of a sudden illness. A woman screams that he is a vampire, because "[his body is] fresher now than on the day on which it died, and there's a colour in its cheeks." (The idea that rosy cheeks indicate a vampire does come from folklore, although the appearance is just a natural part of the decomposition process, as JMR points out a few paragraphs later.)

JMR makes a point to tell us how crazy and delusional she is, and I'll spare you another rant about how the mob are the only ones acting logically based on the universe they're living in and the small amount of information they know.

Chapter 48: In Which a Vampire Finally Gets Staked (Maybe)

Digression: Vampire Reviews

2010-08-15T14:18:00.000-05:00

So I've been working on my other project, Book of the Movie, and have a couple of video reviews about vampires:

Closed captioned version on YouTube

Real post coming later, though; don't worry!

Chapter 46: In Which the Bannerworths Decide to Move (Again)

2010-08-08T22:53:00.001-05:00

Previously in Varney the Vampire: Who is good? Who is evil? Who is getting bored?

Chapter 46 (THE PREPARATIONS FOR LEAVING BANNERWORTH HALL, AND THE MYSTERIOUS CONDUCT OF THE ADMIRAL AND MR. CHILLINGWORTH.) is a short one, which is good, because my ability to focus has not been great lately.

We leave the mob and return to the Bannerworths, who are still arguing about whether or not to leave the house. I thought we'd been through that three or four times already.

Henry consults with his mother. She agrees to leave, and they briefly discuss the suicide of Henry's father. While they believe he killed himself because he couldn't pay his debts, he apparently mentioned some hidden money in his dying moments. I'm sure this will come in handy at some convenient time later on.

Chillingworth brings news about the mob, which has grown such that the local authorities cannot control it. The Bannerworths are most concerned about the possibility that more people will find out about their connection to the vampire. This concern goes all the way back to Chapter 4, but is perhaps more dangerous/embarrassing for the Bannerworths now that there's a bit more proof (from the mob's perspective at the very least) of the vampire's existence, rather than just secondhand rumors.

In the end, the Bannerworths decide to move the next day. There's really nothing else to say about this chapter.

Digression: Posting Schedule

2010-08-05T21:00:00.002-05:00

I am thinking of dropping my regular posts down to one a week; things are just getting hectic again. Any thoughts/preference for days?

Chapter 45: In Which the Mob is My New Favorite Character

2010-08-02T01:01:00.003-05:00

Previously in Varney the Vampire: The prisoner returns but does not stay for nearly long enough.

Okay, I've been putting this chapter off for too long. It isn't bad, I just needed to get my thoughts together.

Chapter 45 (THE OPEN GRAVES. -- THE DEAD BODIES. -- A SCENE OF TERROR.) begins right where Chapter 44 left off, with the mob trying to dig up a grave. There's an interesting little passage where JMR once again pounds in the idea that the mob--not vampires--are the evil ones:

"Sons of darkness; you're all vampyres, and are continually sucking the life-blood from each other. No wonder that the evil one has power over you all. You're as men who walk in the darkness when the sunlight invites you, and you listen often to the words of humanity when those of a diviner origin are offered to your acceptance."

And then they dig up Miles the butcher. The coffin is empty, save for a brick.

As I mentioned in the previous chapter, I don't get the sense of a mindless, faceless mob that JMR wants us to have. They are acting impulsively and without hard evidence, certainly, but at least they are acting like there is actually a vampire in the story.

Compare this scene to the one where Our Heroes open Varney's coffin and find it empty. There's the same sort of pointless waffling to pad out the chapter, to be sure; but entire tone of the scene is different. Our Heroes, being the fine upstanding gentlemen they are, have no sense of urgency or panic. They spend most of the rest of the chapter, and too many chapters after that, arguing and angsting over how it cannot be a vampire because that would be Most Illogical.

The mob is real and human, and their reactions make me feel like I'm actually in a vampire story, rather than some bizarre alien parody of human emotion. So mostly I'm just still perplexed that JMR wants us to see the mob as the bad guys, since they (as an amalgam, since they don't really have individual characters yet) are the ones I have identified with throughout the last several chapters.

Chapter 46: In Which the Bannerworths Decide to Move (Again)

Digression: I Suck Again

2010-07-30T02:22:00.000-05:00

Meant to post something today to make up for missing Wednesday, but had a hard time getting through this next chapter.

Instead, started reading Fred Saberhagen's novelization of Bram Stoker's Dracula for Book of the Movie.

It has vampires, so it is totally relevant.

Digression: The Vampyre

2010-07-24T17:07:00.000-05:00

Sorry for the missed post on Wednesday. Here instead of a real update is a post about The Vampyre by David Campton, as mentioned in my sleeping pill-induced post about my vampire-related reading list. This isn't a proper review, just a few scattered thoughts on the book.

Let me first say that I don't like the Polidori's "The Vampyre" very much. I feel bad criticizing it too much, especially the plagiarism aspect, because of the circumstances surrounding it: in short, Polidori never meant for the story to be published. But the main thing for me is that it's written in that 19th century short story writing style I detest, where the story doesn't really take place in real time but in narration that glosses over the specifics of the actions -- rather like I'm reading a summary of a longer, better book.

So it feels like "The Vampyre" would be a good candidate for a novelization, and that's probably still true, but David Campton's novella isn't it. The characters are boring, Ruthven isn't terribly scary, and there's a lot of padding in the beginning of the story, before Polidori's original plotline really starts.

As for the ending -- it's not really a happy ending, which puts it a step above the other adaptations I've read (I mean, I love Der Vampyr, but seriously, not everything needs a happy ending). However, it's a stupid ending. Basically, Aubrey is able to save his sister from marrying the Earl of Marsden (i.e., Ruthven), and together they defeat the vampire by... having him accidentally trip backwards onto a fishing spear. And then they leave his body lying in the moonlight, so he recovers and escapes. So the characters can't defend themselves without deus ex machina and then are too stupid to use the deus ex machina to their advantage, hurrah!

Know of any novelizations of "The Vampyre" and are they any good? All I've seen are plays and operas, which range from okay to very good on their own and bad to meh in terms of an adaptation.

Chapter 44: In Which There Are No Chapters 41 through 43

2010-07-19T01:06:00.002-05:00

Previously in Varney the Vampire: Charles and the others can't decide whether they want to kill the vampire or protect him. I can't decide why I should care.

Chapters 41 through 43 of Varney the Vampire do not exist. This is ostensibly a result of the many errors Penny Dreadful printers made; as far as mistakes go, misnumbering chapters is certainly better than misremembering your own characters' names. Based on the content of the last few chapters, however, I wouldn't be surprised if Chapters 41 through 43 existed and disappeared, but were so convolutedly repetitive that we don't even notice.

Anyway, Chapter 44 (VARNEY'S DANGER, AND HIS RESCUE. -- THE PRISONER AGAIN, AND THE SUBTERRANEAN VAULT.) brings us back to the prisoner, whom we met all the way back in Chapter 29. Again, this is a very well-written scene, capturing the spirit of the prisoner's hopelessness with only one or two laughably over-the-top lines. The brief section ends with Varney appearing, having escaped from the angry mob, and the prisoner's reaction:

"Villain, monster, vampyre!" he shrieks, "I have thee now;" and locked in a deadly embrace, they roll upon the damp earth, struggling for life together.

Both of the prisoner scenes display a wonderful subtlety otherwise unseen in JMR's writing. We don't know who the prisoner is; we don't know why he's there; we don't know what Varney has to do with him -- but it keeps my interest because it feels like deliberate suspense building, not unintentional confusion.

Meanwhile, back at Bannerworth Hall, more redundancy ensues. Flora wants to leave. Chillingworth is too much of a stubborn prick to believe that he actually saw a vampire. Blah, blah, blah, it's all so boring. The Admiral generously offers to relocate the Bannerworths (well, less "offers" than "you're coming with me because I say so"), but even that just feels like a rehash of the scene where he buys Bannerworth Hall.

Finally, we return back to the mob. A strange person who "knew something of vampyres" informs them that all the recent deaths in town were the result of the vampire; therefore Varney must be stopped, and the bodies must be exhumed so they cannot become vampires themselves.

The rest of the scene is clearly meant to showcase how savage and irrational the mob is for taking the suggestion to heart, but it doesn't make sense because we are in a universe where vampires exist. The people in this story have evidence that vampires exist, and in this universe people killed by vampires do seem to come back as vampires themselves. Digging up the bodies of the recently deceased isn't pleasant or "proper," but I can't condemn the mob for acting more rationally and realistically than the main characters.

Chapter 45: In Which the Mob is My New Favorite Character

Digression: A Funny Video & My Reading List

2010-07-14T20:11:00.000-05:00

Yesterday, I moved around pill bottles in my bathroom so they weren't scattered around on the counter. Today, I accidentally took a sleeping pill when I woke up instead of the pill I normally take in the morning. Obviously the old system was working just fine.

Anyway, I owe you a chapter especially since I just did a digression on Sunday, but I don't think my brain has that kind of focus. So, here's a funny video from the guy who does the "I'm a Marvel, I'm a DC" parodies.

Also, let's talk about my vampire-related reading list. I also organized my books last night, so I got a good look at the stuff I have around and keep forgetting to read.

Skinners: Blood Blade, by Marcus Pelegrimas -- I found this at the library the other day and thought I'd give it a try. I can't comment much on the story since I've only just gotten past the obligatory-backstory-of-how-this-guy-became-a-vampire-hunter bits, but while I'm not in love with the writing style I think the author's doing interesting things with the vampire mythos so far.
Night Child, by Jes Battis -- I picked this up when Half Price Books was having a sale. Seems like a "CSI -- but with vampires!" thing, which I kind of like, although I'm only about a chapter in.
The Vampire Files: Bloodlist, by P.N. Elrod -- I bought this six months ago and promptly lost it. Found it again in the move. I have heard so many good things about this series and keep putting off reading it.
The Vampyre, retold by David Campton -- Found this on clearance for $1; it's a short novel based on John Polidori's "The Vampyre," put out by this company Fleshcreepers which apparently sells retold horror classics for young readers. I skimmed through it enough to see that they the author gave the story a happy ending, which is bulls***, but it piqued my interest nonetheless.
Laws of the Blood: The Hunt, by Susan Sizemore -- Another one I read a few chapters of and then forgot about. I enjoyed Susan Sizemore's Forever Knight tie-in novel, but haven't read any of her other stuff yet.

Comments on any of these? Like/dislike/recommendations?

Finally, I've been working on a new project, Book of the Movie, for which I just put up the introductory post I wrote a few days ago. It's been a while since I did anything with video (I used to edit music videos for my old fandom in high school), but I'm just really psyched about sharing another one of my bizarre and obscure hobbies.

Digression: Vampire Mob

2010-07-11T18:45:00.000-05:00

For those of you who haven't seen this already, I found an interesting link at Suburban Vampire yesterday for a new web series called Vampire Mob. From their press release:

Vampire Mob follows Don Grigioni, a hitman and vampire, who just found out his mother-in-law is moving in, for eternity. Don became a vampire because "it was a good fit" for is nocturnal life of crime. He never planned on biting his wife, Annie, and making her immortal, "but then I got hungry." Annie felt bad that her mom would die one day and bit her, never discussing it with Don, and now mom needs a place to stay and blood to drink. With Don’s hit business slowing down, the last thing he needs is more "grocery shopping" to do.

They're releasing the episodes based on how many views they get, rather than on a set schedule, with the first episode up already on the Vampire Mob website.

I'll reserve my comments until I've seen the whole thing, since the first episode is basically just exposition. But I noticed in the previews for Episode 2 that it has Kirsten Vangsness in it, whom I absolutely adore, so I plan to keep watching.

Chapter 40: In Which the Mob is Generally Useless

2010-07-07T22:14:00.003-05:00

Previously in Varney the Vampire: Someone finally figures out how to kill Varney. Somehow this makes them evil.

Every time I think I've read the most boring chapter in Varney the Vampire, JMR ups the ante. It's like he's mocking me from beyond the grave. Anyway, Chapter 40 (THE POPULAR RIOT. -- SIR FRANCIS VARNEY'S DANGER. -- THE SUGGESTION AND ITS RESULTS.) is one of those chapters where nothing really happens and even the interesting characters suck.

First, we get this extended rant about how evil women are for gossiping, because clearly the readers have forgotten about the rant at the end of Chapter 39 already. Chillingworth feels terrible for mentioning anything to his wife -- JMR seems to have forgotten that Chillingworth has continually dismissed the possibility that Varney is a vampire or that vampires exist in the first place.

The mob searches for Varney so they can kill him:

"Drive a stake through him," said a woman; "it's the only way, and the humanestest. You've only to take a hedge stake, and sharpen it a bit at one end, and char it a little in the fire so as there mayt'n't be no splinters to hurt, and then poke it through his stomach."

Aside from the amusing concern about how the wooden stake might give splinters to the vampire you're trying to kill with it, the detail of driving the stake through his stomach (or "poking" it -- could you sound any less badass when you're talking about killing a vampire?) is interesting. I'd always taken "through the heart" for granted, but it makes a bit more sense to me due to the vampire's connection with blood specifically and the heart being one of your most important organs in general.

Then again, all of the methods for killing vampires are fairly arbitrary, especially when you get to some of the odder ways to kill vampires in folklore, like putting a lemon in its mouth or sprinkling poppy seeds over its grave.

So Henry and Chillingworth try to dissuade the mob, but they just go off to search the woods. They plan to defend the vampire, because they're just that f***ing honorable ("We'll have a fight for it yet," says the Admiral; "they sha'n't murder even a vampyre in cold blood"). It's Henry's reasoning, as usual, that makes no sense:

"No, no," said Henry; "no more violence, there has been enough -- there has been enough."

CONSISTENCY, PLEASE! Weren't you just last chapter dueling the vampire? Didn't you shoot the vampire with the intent to kill him, then receive the bullet back from the vampire and see that it did him no harm? You've already acknowledged (unless things change in the next chapter) that Varney is a vampire. If you haven't done enough violence to kill him yet, there hasn't been enough violence.

How can I manage to give a rat's ass about what happens to the characters when I can't even understand their basic motivations? What do Henry and the others want -- to kill the vampire, avenging Charles and protecting Flora, or to defend Varney against accusations of vampirism and threats of death, because... the plot requires it?

Because JMR feels some sadistic need to pad his word count, we get this random scene where Jack knocks some guy into a ditch (because... I'm not even going to worry about why); Marchdale delivers a speech about Varney's motives that should inspire Varney/Marchdale slashers everywhere; Varney escapes to the Ancient Ruins of Ruinyness and somehow manages to disappear; and when the mob catches up to him we're treated to a complete rehash of the scene where they search for him in his house, except different because now they're in ruins.

Why can't we go back to Flora? Her characterization may not be consistent, but at least I understand what's going on with her and why.

Chapter 44: In Which There Are No Chapters 41 through 43

Chapter 39: In Which the Duel Goes Awry

2010-07-04T17:10:00.002-05:00

Previously in Varney the Vampire: The duel is planned. Marchdale gets jealous. It doesn't seem to affect the story one way or the other.

At the end of the previous chapter, Varney was preparing to tell the Admiral what to do in the event of his death. In Chapter 39 (THE STORM AND THE FIGHT. -- THE ADMIRAL'S REPUDIATION OF HIS PRINCIPAL.), Varney says that if Henry "should chance to send a pistol-bullet through any portion of my anatomy, prejudicial to the prolongation of my existence," the Admiral should lay him in the moonlight.

We saw the moon heal Varney back in Chapter 5. The idea goes back to Polidori's "The Vampyre," wherein the vampire is resurrected by moonlight (and, of course, my third favorite opera Der Vampyr), although I'm not sure whether or not it has its roots in folklore.

It's a moot point in this chapter, though, because Varney doesn't die. Henry shoots him, while Varney refuses to fire back. The Admiral scolds him, saying that refusing to fire is "not the proper thing," but Varney responds:

"Why, look you here," said Sir Francis Varney, stepping forward and placing his hand to his neckerchief; "look you here; if Mr. Henry Bannerworth should demand another fire, he may do so with the same bullet."

I love how Varney's playing with them here. Will they learn anything from this experience? Since the Bannerworth saga goes on until Chapter 100ish, I'm not holding out hope. Varney could bare his teeth and drink a human dry while being pelted with bullets and grenades to no effect and juggling neon signs reading "HULLO I AM AN INDESTRUCTIBLE VAMPIRE" and somehow Henry Bannerworth would still think it reasonable to challenge him to a duel. For honor, or something.

Anyway, the duel ends abruptly when a crowd of women, fueled by rumors from Dr. Chillingworth's wife, show up to burn the vampire. Varney high-tails it out of there. JMR goes off on a rant about how evil women always gossip and can't be trusted, but if they're a serious threat to the vampire while five men with guns can't figure out how to kill him, more power to them.

Chapter 40: In Which the Mob is Generally Useless

Chapter 38: In Which the Duel Subplot Becomes Even More Contrived

2010-06-30T20:43:00.002-05:00

Previously in Varney the Vampire: Everyone challenges Varney to a duel. Oh, the hi-larity.

Chapter 38 (MARCHDALE'S OFFER. -- THE CONSULTATION AT BANNERWORTH HALL. -- THE MORNING OF THE DUEL.) starts out with Dr. Chillingworth and Jack Pringle meeting Varney on behalf of Henry and the Admiral, respectively. They fret about Varney not having a second, and I have to admit that while the situation itself seemed more forced than humorous to me, I did crack a smile at Varney's nonchalance.

Anyway, Varney argues that he cannot find a second because he has no friends. Chillingworth stands his ground, and finally Jack offers for the Admiral to be Varney's second in the duel with Henry. (Really, JMR? Could this conflict become any more manufactured?)

They agree on a place and time, but as Jack and Chillingworth are leaving, who should they come across but Marchdale! I'd hoped he had left the story entirely, but apparently he's just ~~jealous that Henry broke up with him and got with Chillingworth on the rebound~~ upset that Henry chose Chillingworth as a second instead of him. Chillingworth refuses to trade places without Henry's consent, so Marchdale tags along back to Bannerworth Hall.

The Admiral, learning of Jack's plan, is totally fine with it except for the fact that he won't get to face Varney first. Marchdale begs Henry to be his second; Henry asks the Admiral if he cares, and I rather love the reply: ""Oh, I! -- Yes -- certainly -- I don't care. Mr. Marchdale is Mr. Marchdale, I believe, and that's all I care about."

We return briefly to Varney and learn that he has avoided the duels so far because he just really doesn't want to hurt anyone. But now he's backed into a corner and can't avoid it! Poor, poor Varney, first forced by his vampire nature to attack helpless women, then forced by a society he isn't really a part of to accept pointless challenges!

But finally we come to the duel, and Varney takes the Admiral aside to explain what to do if he gets shot. If my suspicions are correct, this whole scenario seems like a very ill-thought-out way to finally reveal a bit more about Varney's vampiric nature and what exactly happens to him when he "dies." Which gives me something to look forward to in the next chapter, at least.

Chapter 39: In Which the Duel Goes Awry

Thanks for joining me for the Blog 30 challenge. It's been fun, but I can't sustain this pace forever. Regular posting will resume on Wednesdays and Sundays, with perhaps a few digressions in between.

Digression: What Makes a Good Vampire, Part 2

2010-06-29T23:50:00.006-05:00

Now that I've discussed some traits of vampires in a few fictional works I enjoy (see Part 1 and Part 1.5 of this series), I'm finally ready to answer my own question: what makes a good vampire?

A good fictional vampire -- whether it is sympathetic or villainous -- has a balance of three type of vampiric traits: the benefits, the drawbacks, and the catch.

The Benefits

Vampirism must have some benefits, or no one would want to be a vampire. (In a story where vampirism is an epidemic, vampires are the risen corpses of evil people as in folklore, or vampirism is otherwise not generally a choice, however, the benefits may be slim.) Typical vampiric benefits include:¹

Immortality.²
Super strength.
Super speed.
Extreme sexiness.³
Flying.
Hypnotism.
Cured diseases.⁴

The Drawbacks

Vampirism must have drawbacks to balance out the benefits, however, to prevent vampires from becoming overly powerful. Typical vampiric drawbacks include:

Cannot abide garlic, holy objects, silver, running water, or sunlight.⁵
Violent urges.
Become unconscious and corpse-like during the day, leaving them weakened.
Infertile.
Cannot ingest food except for blood.
Cannot have sex.⁶
Cannot see their reflections.

The Catch

Still, the drawbacks do not often make the vampire's supernatural power less appealing. Would you give up food⁷ for the ability to live forever? I know I would.

So what we need is a catch: a drawback so major that it serves to make vampirism a lot more complicated and less appealing. Basically, the catch is what neatly answers the question, "If being a vampire is so awesome, why doesn't everyone do it?"

The catch, in my experience, falls into five basic categories (although there is some overlap):

Uncertainty of success (it's difficult to become a vampire -- e.g., because the vampire must stop feeding just before the human is dead, as in Forever Knight, or because the process is painful, as in Twilight -- and there is a strong possibility of death).
Loss of personality (e.g., losing one's soul, as in Buffy the Vampire Slayer, or suffering potential drastic personality changes, as in Forever Knight).
Eternal bondage (becoming attached to one's sire and even compelled to obey them, as in Charlaine Harris's Southern Vampire Mysteries).
Separation from other vampires (e.g., the urge to attack other vampires and defend one's territory, as in Tanya Huff's Blood Books).
Compulsion to kill (either a need to kill while feeding, as in Anne Rice's Vampire Chronicles, or a need to kill someone within a certain time limit, as in Der Vampyr ⁸).

Bottom Line

In my mind, a good vampire must have a catch as well as regular old drawbacks and weaknesses. The catch makes vampirism go from sounding like a good deal to something more complicated than human life, and adds a real conflict to human/vampire romance instead of just Generic Angst.

I honestly don't care about any other traits. I have some preferences, but I'll accept a lot of "non-traditional" benefits and drawbacks -- and even non-traditional vampires, like the emotion-sucking rather than blood-drinking White Court in Jim Butcher's Dresden Files -- as long as they make sense in context. What I won't accept, however, is a story that regales me with how awesome and consequence-free vampirism is and then tries to convince me that the average human wouldn't choose it.

---

¹ Items on this list are not necessarily compatible with each other or with the other lists. Each one must be taken individually. ^
² Technical immortality, at least; fictional vampires do not generally die of old age, but in many stories can be fairly easily killed. ^
³ Does getting vamped make one sexy, or do only sexy people get vamped? ^
⁴ That is, becoming a vampire cures the diseases one had as a human, not that vampires can cure diseases themselves. ^
⁵ The reasons and effects of sunlight vary: most commonly they burn, although some powerful vampires are merely weakened. And sometimes they sparkle. ^
⁶ If only this drawback were not so rare in today's overly saturated vampire romance market. ^
⁷ Vampires have no physical need for food, so it just means giving up a sensual pleasure rather than a necessity for living. ^
⁸ I mention Der Vampyr so much not because the concept is well-executed -- rather, the whole "must kill three people in a day" thing is mostly a way for the hero to kill the vampire on a technicality, by delaying the third victim, instead of attacking him outright -- but because I think it's a concept with much potential for ambiguity. While a person might reject super powers if they had to kill every time they fed, for example, it's easier for a well-intentioned vampire to make the ends justify the means if it's just one person (or three people), once a year. ^

Digression: What Makes a Good Vampire, Part 1.5: Blood

2010-06-28T16:04:00.000-05:00

I realized soon after I posted Part 1 of this digression that I hadn't mentioned an important aspect of vampirism: what kind of blood is necessary. The way vampires have to feed in order to sustain themselves is not only a potential drawback of vampirism, but a way to separate the good vampires from the evil ones.

Let's start with an example I didn't mention in the last post: the Anita Blake, Vampire Hunter series by Laurell K. Hamilton. In one of the books, a vampire tries to drink animal blood in order to avoid harming humans, but as it turns out, only human blood can sustain vampires. On a steady diet of animal blood, their bodies start to break down.

Because of this limitation, feeding on humans in Anita Blake's universe is not an inherently immoral (or morally questionable) act. Rather, the issue is consent. All vampires must feed on humans to live, but only evil vampires feed on humans without permission -- an illegal act, as well as immoral.

Contrast the limitations on vampire feeding in Anita Blake with those in Buffy the Vampire Slayer. Vampires in the Buffyverse can sustain themselves just fine on animal blood, with no negative physical or psychological effects. Only evil vampires feed on humans, and they almost always kill their prey. Because feeding on humans is not necessary, it is not something that good vampires do.

Forever Knight is perhaps somewhere in between. As in Buffy, it is not necessary for vampires to feed on humans. Vampires can sustain themselves on the blood of animals or even other vampires, or drink stored blood from human donors rather than biting a human outright.

However, drinking animal blood does have a few drawbacks. First, vampires sense human memories and emotions through their blood. It's not necessary for vampires to gain these memories in order to survive, but it's part of the thrill of the hunt and the rush of drinking blood.

Second, drinking blood is closely tied to sex. In fact, if you take the word of the show's creators, male vampires cannot have sex (the whole "no/slow circulation = no erection" problem), so biting symbolically takes the place of sexual intercourse. Drinking animal blood, then, is akin to sexual deviancy. Some vampires (carouches) prefer it, but they are looked down upon.

On the other hand, the issue of morality is a bit more fuzzy. Most modern vampires in the show drink bottled human blood not because they don't enjoy killing humans, but because they think it's stupid to endanger vampires by killing too many humans in the same area when bottled blood works just fine. Nicholas drinks animal blood not because drinking human blood is objectively wrong, but because animal blood is lesser, and he's trying to wean himself off blood entirely.

I'm glossing over a lot, and I'm ignoring a number of fictional vampires with different restrictions on blood drinking, but otherwise this post would go on forever. (It still turned into an entirely separate post just on blood drinking, rather than a conclusion on what benefits and drawbacks vampirism should have.) But once I started writing, I realized that blood was an important enough subject to address separately.

On the one hand, allowing vampires to live on animal blood seems to focus on the technicality of vampires needing blood, rather than the symbolism associated with blood drinking. It also makes the vampires less ambiguous: if it's not necessary to drink from or kill humans, vampires only do it because they like to. (This is not to say that the idea can't be handled well, and I think Forever Knight does that.)

On the other hand, requiring vampires to feed on humans allows them an easy way out for bad behavior: "Oh, you poor vampire, you couldn't help hypnotizing that person and feeding without their permission, or killing that human by feeding on them; it's just in your nature." This isn't bad when it's addressed in the story as part of the vampire's struggle against his instincts, or when the issue of non-consensual feeding has intentional creepy and morally ambiguous overtones. More often than not, however, the connection between blood and sex has Unfortunate Implications amounting to "it's okay to rape someone if it's In Your Nature."

So what's the best way for vampire stories to handle the issue of blood drinking? More on that in Part 2 of the series on What Makes a Good Vampire (consider this Part 1.5).

Digression: What Makes a Good Vampire, Part 1

2010-06-27T21:39:00.002-05:00

After I wrote my post about Twilight, I got into a conversation with a friend about Twilight vampires compared to vampires in other stories. Her main complaint was that vampirism in Twilight doesn't have enough drawbacks.

Again, in the interest of full disclosure, I haven't read the books. However, I think that whenever "just vamp her and everything will be okay" is a reasonable solution to a romance between a human and a vampire, vampirism doesn't have enough drawbacks. Basically it just causes a humongous plot hole: if the only drawback for vampirism is Generic Angst, why doesn't everyone do it?

I've mentioned Tanya Huff's Blood Books before, because I think they're a great example of how to create realistic obstacles for a vampire who wants to be with his human love forever. Essentially, there cannot be too many vampires in any one place in order to avoid suspicion and keep the food supply up. Therefore, vampires have developed an instinct to fight any vampire who enters their territory, regardless of how well they got along when one or both of them were mortal.

(Spoilers for Blood Pact and Blood Debt follow.)

In Blood Pact, Henry -- the vampire -- vamps Vicki, his human lover, to save her life. After briefly teaching her how to hunt and survive as a vampire, he leaves to stake out a new territory. In Blood Debt, however, he needs her help on a case, and so they must learn to resist their instinct to kill each other.

Eventually, they realize that, with the growth of cities giving vampires more food sources and better places to hide, vampires' instinct to kill each other is no longer relevant in modern times. While this works well for rekindling a romance between Henry and Vicki, it negates much of the conflict in the previous books.

(End spoilers.)

Let's look at another very different obstacle for the vampire, laid out in Heinrich August Marschner's 1828 opera Der Vampyr. The libretto, by Wilhelm August Wohlbrück, was adapted from John Polidori's short story "The Vampyre" and J.R. Planché's theatrical adaptation, The Vampire, or the Bride of the Isles.

The vampire in Der Vampyr, Lord Ruthven, is clearly the villain, but a sympathetic one. The "catch" to his vampirism is that he must kill three woman once a year in order to remain a vampire. (The idea that the vampire must kill once a year to survive is implied in "The Vampyre" but not stated outright.) Like Varney, he attacks humans not necessarily because he wants to, but because his existence compels him to -- which is not to suggest that he doesn't enjoy it.

Let's look at a more well-known vampire story: Buffy the Vampire Slayer. Vampires in Buffy drink blood, but don't experience most of the usual drawbacks: not being able to eat human food, needing to stay in a coffin all day, being allergic to garlic, or not being able to have sex.

On the other hand, the "catch" to becoming a vampire is huge: you lose your soul entirely, and your body becomes an unambiguously evil killer. This works well in Buffy, because vampires are, for the most part, the enemies. There are a few sympathetic vampire characters, but they have something different about them: Angel has his soul, and so is moral, and Spike has a chip in his head, so he can't hurt humans even though he wants to (and then eventually gets used to the idea).

Of course, this falls apart as the story goes on and vampires as a whole start becoming more developed. In particular, why is Harmony suddenly fine to work at Wolfram & Hart in Season 5 of Angel, when she has neither a soul nor a chip? The main problem with vampirism in Buffy is that soulless, unambiguously evil vampires work fine when they're your enemies, but are difficult to handle, without increasing numbers of "special exceptions," when they become main characters.

Let's contrast this with an earlier TV show: Forever Knight. Some of the vampires are sympathetic, while some are just plain evil, and some are well-intentioned but misguided. Any change in personality is not a result of the vampirism per se, but the fact that power corrupts, and that most humans who suddenly gain immortality and superpowers will use them unwisely.

To balance this out, vampires in Forever Knight have more of the drawbacks that Buffy vampires lack: problems with garlic, not being able to eat human food, and (according to the show's creators, although not explicitly stated in the show itself) not being able to have sex. In Nick Knight's eyes, the simple fact that he isn't human is enough of a drawback in and of itself, but I don't count that because it's a personal preference, not an objective limitation.

Now that I've given an overview of vampire traits in just a small handful of my favorite vampire stories, it's time for the big question: what makes a good vampire? Unfortunately, I've gone on a lot longer than I originally intended. So stay tuned for Part 2 tomorrow, wherein I conclude my thoughts on the best balance of benefits and drawbacks for fictional vampires.

Part 1.5: Blood

Chapter 37: In Which JMR Fails at Dramatic Irony

2010-06-26T21:28:00.002-05:00

Previously in Varney the Vampire: Flora is a badass (to stay this time, I hope).

At the start of Chapter 37 (SIR FRANCIS VARNEY'S SEPARATE OPPONENTS. -- THE INTERPOSITION OF FLORA.), we learn that, while the Bannerworths miss Marchdale, they appreciate the Admiral's generosity and steadfast optimism. (The fact that the Admiral threw an ink desk in Marchdale's face goes unmentioned.)

Flora worries that Varney has killed Charles. Henry tries to reassure her but, not really believing it himself, goes to confront Varney about Charles's disappearance.

Do I really have to go on about how he's holding the Idiot Ball here? "Oh, yes, let me venture out alone to confront the vampire who has attacked my sister several times and possibly killed her fiancé, and who, to the best of our knowledge, cannot be killed. What a splendid idea that couldn't possibly put my life in danger!"

I'm sure this is on TV Tropes already and I've just forgotten the name, but Henry's actions (and similar actions in poorly-written stories) are less "Idiot Ball" and more "I Don't Understand Dramatic Irony Ball." That is to say, it doesn't occur to Henry that he won't be safe because the readers know he'll be safe. The first few times characters challenged or confronted the vampire, it was just stupid; but by this point, when we've gotten a better picture of Varney's character, we understand that he's not going to just kill for s***s and giggles.

Anyway, Varney denies having killed Charles and then goes back to his smug old self, toying with Henry:

"If," resumed Henry, "such was your object in putting Mr. Holland aside, by becoming personally or by proxy an assassin, you are mistaken in supposing you have accomplished your object."

"Go on, sir," said Sir Francis Varney, in a bland and sweet tone; "I am all attention; pray proceed."

"You have failed; for I now here, on this spot, defy you to mortal combat. Coward, assassin as you are, I challenge you to fight."

"You don't mean on the carpet here?" said Varney, deliberately.

So Varney accepts the duel, Henry storms out ("I may not detain you, I presume, to taste aught in the way of refreshment?", Varney calls after him).

Meanwhile, the Admiral decides to challenge Varney to a duel himself, although his challenge is much more direct and profanity-laced; Henry asks Chillingworth to visit Varney the next morning; Chillingworth shows up at the same time as Jack Pringle; and I'm suddenly afraid that the story turned into a comedy of errors while my back was turned.

Chapter 38: In Which the Duel Subplot Becomes Even More Contrived

Digression: Why I Don't Read Ahead

2010-06-25T19:04:00.011-05:00

I don't know if it's always clear from my posts, but I'm not just commenting on Varney the Vampire one chapter at a time -- I'm reading it one chapter at a time. Usually my posts start out as a running commentary as I'm reading the chapter from my print edition, after which I edit it and add quotes from an online version.

This sometimes puts me at a disadvantage because I don't know how the story is going to turn out (except for the oft-spoiled ending). I'm sure I've made myself look silly more than once by complaining about a plot point or apparent plot hole that got resolved in the next chapter or two.

I write this way because I wanted to experience Varney as the original readers would have -- taking each chapter as a separate episode of a story, rather than judging Varney as a traditional novel. It makes a fun concept for a blog, sure, but really it's for me. I wanted to read Varney badly, but couldn't push myself past the first few chapters. Writing commentary on each chapter gives me motivation to push forward.

Do ignore the four-month gap in my blogging.

I think I started out a bit more consciously over-the-top than I have been lately, with more flippant plot recaps and fewer block quotes. More and more lately, I'm not particularly trying to be funny or sarcastic or deep or anything. I'm just reacting chapter by chapter, and since the quality and content shifts around so much, my reactions are constantly changing.

I guess all I'm trying to say here is that I'm having fun. I'm not certain that my recaps and rants make a whole lot of sense to people not familiar with the story and characters, and maybe I should consider that more. But at this point, I'm just happy to exercise my nitpicky brain for a little while each day.

Chapter 36: In Which the Admiral is Clearly Rubbing Off on Flora

2010-06-24T21:22:00.002-05:00

Previously in Varney the Vampire: The Admiral tries to shoot the vampire. With an arsenal.

Chapter 36 (THE CONSULTATION. -- THE DUEL AND ITS RESULTS.) contains two of my absolute favorite things in Varney the Vampire: Marchdale getting told off and Flora standing up for herself.

I'll spare you the usual recap about Flora, mainly because I'm too lazy at the moment to dig up old links. Suffice it to say that her character development has been rocky, and I'd ordinarily complain that her sudden strength in this chapter is too much, too fast except that I have nothing consistent with which to compare it.

Anyway, after a bit of narration about how awfully poor the Bannerworths are, we learn that Flora isn't as anxious after her bizarre -- and yet, oddly reassuring -- meeting with the vampire. She wants to leave Bannerworth Hall. Henry (finally) looks to her for an answer as to how they should proceed, and she responds:

"I will discover the fate of Charles Holland and then leave the Hall."

Marchdale rants on for a bit about how silly this is before flouncing, leading the Admiral to exclaim:

"You're a d -- -- d lubberly thief... the sooner you leave it the better. Why, you bad-looking son of a gun, what do you mean? I thought we'd had enough of that."

"I fully expected this abuse," said Marchdale.

"Did you expect that?" said the admiral, as he snatched up an inkstand, and threw at Marchdale.

I LOVE THIS GUY. THAT IS ALL.

But then Flora gets in on the action, too, with:

"No, let him go, he doubts Charles Holland; let all go who doubt Charles Holland."

So Marchdale goes off, Jack voices what we were all thinking ("Huzza! that's one good job"), and the Bannerworths agree to sell the hall to the Admiral, who is apparently about to team up with Flora on her search for Charles. Things are seriously looking up.

Chapter 37: In Which JMR Fails at Dramatic Irony

Chapter 35: In Which the Admiral's Awesomeness Overshadows Everything Again

2010-06-23T20:53:00.002-05:00

Previously in Varney the Vampire: Varney tries to seduce Flora and fails.

The Admiral isn't even in Chapter 35 (THE EXPLANATION. -- MARCHDALE'S ADVICE. -- THE PROJECTED REMOVAL, AND THE ADMIRAL'S ANGER.). His offscreen presence is merely discussed by the other characters for a few paragraphs as they chase after the fleeing vampire. But how can one possibly ignore this line:

"It comes from the admiral's room," said Marchdale. "On my life, I think the old man must be mad. He has some six or eight pistols ranged in a row along the window-sill, and all loaded, so that by the aid of a match they can be pretty well discharged as a volley, which he considers the only proper means of firing upon the vampyre."

I don't care how ineffective that is (as the characters themselves point out, rather calmly, in the next few lines of dialogue). It's f***ing awesome.

I don't have much else to say about this rather short chapter. Varney briefly visits Flora again after giving Henry and the others the slip, promising that she'll soon see Charles again, and Henry decides to do what he should have done from the very beginning, which is listen to Flora. Finally.

Chapter 36: In Which the Admiral is Clearly Rubbing Off on Flora

Chapter 34: In Which Varney is Adept at Blame Shifting

2010-06-22T20:34:00.002-05:00

Previously in Varney the Vampire: Varney reveals deeper aspects of his character.

I am a nitpicker at heart, as I'm sure my reader(s?) have noticed. It's just how I read and enjoy things. It takes a good deal of effort to step back and analyze something more holistically, and even my reviews of things I enjoyed tend to read like "this was bad and this was bad and [extended rant on this one sentence that was bad] but otherwise it was awesome and you should read it." These chapter-by-chapter analyses are perfect for me, because I can zoom in on a small aspect of one small part of Varney without feeling that I'm neglecting the work as a whole.

I mention this now because I spent most of my analysis of the last chapter on one small paragraph, and in Chapter 34 (THE THREAT. -- ITS CONSEQUENCES. -- THE RESCUE, AND SIR FRANCIS VARNEY'S DANGER.), I immediately zeroed in on a single line.

The gist of the chapter is that Varney, finding a sleeping victim no fun at all, wakes Flora up and begins to torment her in a horrific seduction. She resists, and he tells her:

"Flora Bannerworth, you are persecuted -- persecuted by me, the vampyre. It is my fate to persecute you; for there are laws to the invisible as well as the visible creation that force even such a being as I am to play my part in the great drama of existence."

In his first attack on Flora, he is just a monster. In this attack, however, he explicitly distances the supernatural forces that make him a vampire from himself. He did not attack Flora by his own will, for his own gain; rather, he is compelled to by forces beyond his control.

The rest of the chapter is basically an extension of this idea. Varney begs Flora to love him in order to save him. She refuses. Now his attack on Flora is no longer the fault of supernatural forces -- rather, the blame transfers to Flora. The attack is her fault for not being selfless enough to love him (as is a woman's responsibility, obviously).

Finally, Varney assures Flora that she will not become a vampire just from a few bites, but that if he keeps attacking her over a long period of time, she will turn. Here he resorts to the "she was wearing a short skirt" defense: if Flora is within his sight, he cannot help himself, but if she leaves Bannerworth Hall he will forget about her and she will be safe.

Let's go back, for a moment, to my post about sexy vampires -- because this is exactly the type of attitude I see in a lot of fictional vampires. The blame shifting, the separation of their "real self" and the evil deeds their vampirism compels them to, the sense that the objects of their affection are to blame for their staying around such a dangerous creature.

Except in most of those stories, the vampire is supposed to be the hero. Here, Varney is sympathetic, but I haven't get gotten the impression that we're supposed to view him as some kind of alpha male, romantic hero, rather than a well-developed, well-rounded villain. That's why this chapter works for me as an intense and frightening scene -- because I never get the sense that it's not supposed to be.

Chapter 35: In Which the Admiral's Awesomeness Overshadows Everything Again

Chapter 33: In Which Varney's Sympathetic Nature Comes to Light

2010-06-21T22:03:00.001-05:00

Previously in Varney the Vampire: The stranger arrives and disappoints the reader greatly.

It's been an awfully long time since Chapter 1, both for this blog (sorry, guys) and for JMR's contemporary readers. When Varney first appeared, he was an inhuman monster, mysterious and undeveloped. He isn't formally introduced until Chapter 13. By the time we get to Chapter 33 (THE STRANGE INTERVIEW. -- THE CHASE THROUGH THE HALL.), it's tempting to dismiss the explicitly sympathetic portrayal as something JMR started suddenly because he forgot Chapter 1 -- or hoped that the readers would.

To which I say: there are so many bad things in Varney the Vampire, ranging from the boringly mediocre to the laughably awful to the just plain horrible. Why don't you pick on one of those, rather than knocking down one of the few good things Varney has going for itself?

Even with considerations for the sluggish pacing in Varney, JMR's portrayal of the title character in Chapter 33 is anything but sudden. Rather, Varney has been revealed gradually as the perspective shifts from the Bannerworths to the vampire himself. He is a monster at first because they know nothing else about him, save that he must fit into the vampire myth. He is a threatening figure to Henry and the others once he is explicitly introduced. He lets slip, perhaps, a bit of emotion or weakness when he confronts Flora.

I stand by my analysis that Chapter 32 goes too far in the direction of "make Varney seem sympathetic by giving him human fears and concerns." Chapter 33 rectifies this somewhat, bringing us back to the Varney we know and love, but with the sympathetic parts and the frightening parts back into balance.

The most important bit, in this respect, is when Varney witnesses Flora sleepwalking. Not realizing that she is asleep,

...he was terrified -- he dared not move -- he dared not speak! The idea that she had died, and that this was her spirit, come to wreak some terrible vengeance upon him, for a time possessed him, and so paralysed with fear was he, that he could neither move nor speak.

Curt Herr, in his annotated edition, notes the symbolism of sleepwalking in Victorian culture and its connection both to eroticism and to being outside of societal control. But I think the effect on Varney has more to do with the fact that he doesn't know she is sleeping. (In fact, once he realizes this fact, he no longer fears Flora.) Rather, he is afraid because his victim, who had panic attacks the last time she was in his presence, is no longer reacting to him. He is afraid that he has lost his power over her.

Taken together, Chapters 31-33 show us something very important about Varney: despite his age and experience as a vampire, he lacks confidence. He can act suave and secure when he's dealing with someone who's clearly beneath him, but someone he perceives as more powerful than himself -- or someone who puts on an unexpected show of confidence -- is enough to frighten him into inaction.

This is a balanced and interesting vampire character. It is Varney's fear that makes him worlds more interesting -- and more human -- than a thousand chapters of Generic Angst could accomplish. Aspiring vampire fiction writers, do take note (but do also be a bit less uneven about it than JMR is).

Chapter 32: In Which Varney's Fear Makes Him Look Silly, Not Human

2010-06-20T22:00:00.003-05:00

Previously in Varney the Vampire: Varney awaits a visitor and forgets how to tell time.

If I had to sum up Varney the Vampire so far in a single word, it would be "anticlimactic," and Chapter 32 (THE THOUSAND POUNDS. -- THE STRANGER'S PRECAUTIONS.) is no exception. First, JMR tries to build up suspense by introducing the situation in the previous chapter. Then he gives this introduction, which showcases Varney's fear of the stranger very well:

"Yes! yes!" gasped Varney; "admit him I know him! Bring him here? It is -- an -- old friend -- of mine."

He sank into a chair, and still he kept his eyes fixed upon that door through which his visitor must come. Surely some secret of dreadful moment must be connected with him whom Sir Francis expected -- dreaded -- and yet dared not refuse to see. And now a footstep approaches -- a slow and a solemn footstep -- it pauses a moment at the door of the apartment, and then the servant flings it open, and a tall man enters. He is enveloped in the folds of a horseman's cloak, and there is the clank of spurs upon his heels as he walks into the room.

Varney rose again, but he said not a word; and for a few moments they stood opposite each other in silence. The domestic has left the room, and the door is closed, so that there was nothing to prevent them from conversing; and, yet, silent they continued for some minutes. It seemed as if each was most anxious that the other should commence the conversation first.

But then what do we find out? He's just this old guy, and the scary part is that Varney is forced to pay him one thousand pounds a year.

Okay, okay, so he has something to do with Varney's resurrection as a vampire, although JMR tries so hard to be coy about the fact ("Whether or not this man... knew him to be something more than earthly, we cannot at present declare..."). But... that's it? No more explanation of how Varney became a vampire? No scary vampire or other supernatural creator who made Varney, just some regular old human who gets his jollies by blackmailing vampires for large sums of money?

Even Varney isn't nearly as interesting in this chapter. His monologue sounds like a stock horror villain, more mad scientist than vampire. Maybe it's just the sudden fixation on money, rather than the supernatural, as what's keeping Varney alive that's making me draw that conclusion.

I do realize we have 200 chapters still to go, so I shouldn't get too impatient to learn about how vampirism actually works. But it would be nice if the setups in the next 200 chapters didn't all lead to huge letdowns.

Yes, I changed my blog design and layout again. I liked the flames, but they made it hard to read link text. I haven't really found a good background image that is both relevant and interesting, so we're stuck with whatever strikes my fancy.

Chapter 33: In Which Varney's Sympathetic Nature Comes to Light

Chapter 31: In Which JMR Isn't Even Trying

2010-06-19T21:35:00.002-05:00

Previously in Varney the Vampire: Flora gets treated like a person, for once.

Chapter 31 (SIR FRANCIS VARNEY AND HIS MYSTERIOUS VISITOR. -- THE STRANGE CONFERENCE.) starts off with the most awkward segue into an irrelevant story-within-a-story in the book so far. I know there have only been three, so there's not much competition, but this just isn't even trying.

The chapter starts off great, with a very deep and humanizing portrayal of Varney as he awaits a visitor who is clearly more frightening than himself. Even the awkward exposition seems to fit, for once:

"It is near the hour," he muttered "it is now very near the hour; surely he will come, and yet I know not why I should fear him, although I seem to tremble at the thought of his approach. He will surely come. Once a year -- only once does he visit me, and then 'tis but to take the price which he has compelled me to pay for that existence, which but for him had been long since terminated. Sometimes I devoutly wish it were."

And then the clock strikes eleven. Varney freaks out, thinking it was twelve, and stresses over the fact that he has to wait another entire hour. So he picks up a book and reads a stupid little story, and we don't get to meet this mysterious stranger until the next chapter.

Just as whiplash is not the same thing as conflict, padding is not the same thing as suspense. Varney's "oh no, it's only eleven!" speech just sounds ungodly silly, especially after the good bits at the beginning of the chapter. I suppose one could argue that it only being eleven humanizes him more, since he's so scared he can't even keep track of time, and I'd find it plausible that this was JMR's intention. But it doesn't work, because the scene is just so contrived.

I'm still on the edge of my seat waiting for the next chapter -- and I'm not being at all sarcastic -- because I presume we're going to meet Varney's maker and start to really sink our teeth into the vampire mythos in Varney, and I'm excited for that. But it has nothing to do with your writing style, JMR, so wipe that smug grin off your face.

Chapter 32: In Which Varney's Fear Makes Him Look Silly, Not Human

Chapter 30: In Which the Blogger Observes a Pattern

2010-06-18T20:09:00.002-05:00

Previously in Varney the Vampire: We encounter a strange prisoner and obvious foreshadowing.

I keep harping on Flora. It's the curse of mediocrity: harping on the bad points of good works seems nitpicky, and harping on the bad points of bad works just seems mean, but mediocre works inspire the most harping because you see what they did well and are flooded with disappointment when the rest of the work doesn't live up to the same standard.

Or maybe that's just me. But I get that feeling with Flora constantly. JMR vacillates constantly between presenting her as a strong and well-developed character and as a silly, negatively stereotypical woman.

In Chapter 30 (THE VISIT OF FLORA TO THE VAMPYRE. -- THE OFFER. -- THE SOLEMN ASSEVERATION.), I think I finally figured out why. It all just depends on who she's with and how they treat her.

When Our Heroes treat her as if she's insane, as in Chapter 27 and Chapter 28, her reactions are presented and observed through that lens -- and yet her reactions are completely realistic. They are not the ramblings and rantings of a madwoman, but the desperate attempts of someone who is never taken seriously to finally be heard.

In Chapter 30 (the title of which is typically misleading), the Admiral treats Flora as a normal human being and an equal, not as someone who needs to be sheltered and headpatted. He talks about Charles with her as a friend, he offers her money (which is clearly highly improper), and he even swears around her (to which she shows no reaction).

Flora reacts with emotion, but not the exaggerated type of emotion which is meant to appear mad or irrational. It is the same in Chapter 20 when she encounters Varney -- he talks to her as a person and treats her almost with respect.

It's still problematic that Flora's moments of pseudo-empowerment are only briefly granted to her by the male characters. Is it better than Flora being a stereotypical, disempowered character all of the time? I suppose, in that it gives me more jumping-off points for this blog. If her character were all bad, I probably would have made a few jokes and gotten tired of it quickly. It would be too easy to make fun of -- just as I almost feel bad mocking JMR's writing style except for the bits that really stand out.

Chapter 31: In Which JMR Isn't Even Trying

Digression: In Which the Blogger, Having Threatened Fanfic, Makes Good on Her Promise

2010-06-17T19:30:00.001-05:00

I wrote back in Chapter 16 that I really wanted to write a Flora/Charles fanfic. That will have to wait, of course, until I finish finding out what happened to Charles. (I don't like reading ahead too much as I write these posts; it makes my reactions feel inauthentic.)

In the meantime, though, have a Flora-related drabble (fic of exactly 100 words). I guess I just suddenly felt nostalgic for the bite-sized, angst-ridden fanfic I used to write in high school and didn't have a ready fandom to apply it to other than Varney, so this is what came out. Takes place around Chapter 28.

---

They don’t know me. They don’t know what I’ve been through, or they’d be afraid, too. They wouldn’t treat my fear as something strange and unnatural.

They haven’t seen it as I have. They’ve seen its human side, heard its smooth and confident speech. They haven’t been trapped in its grasp -- haven’t felt its teeth.

I sense their whispers. I know they’re trying to keep things from me, as if I’m too weak and frail to understand what’s happening.

Perhaps I am. I can feel myself wasting away. Maybe I’m not becoming a vampire -- I’m becoming Death itself.

Digression: Regarding Twilight and Sparkly Vampires

2010-06-16T18:13:00.000-05:00

How can I possibly have a blog about vampires and not mention anything about Twilight?

Well, first of all, I haven't read the entire Twilight series, so you may take my comments with a grain of salt. But from what I've read, it doesn't seem considerably better or worse than a lot of typical "girl meets vampire and finds True Love" paranormal romance novels. Not really interesting enough for me to finish except to snark, and the snarking has been thoroughly covered by a lot of people already, most of whom are more interesting than me.

What I do want to comment on is the one thing everyone knows even if they don't know anything else about Twilight: the vampires sparkle. (Link is NSFW, by the way.)

People's main complaint seems to be that making vampires sparkle goes against all the traditional vampire tropes. To which I say: isn't that a good thing?

Don't get me wrong: I have my beef with Twilight vampires and similar fictional creations. The main issue is that there don't seem to be any drawbacks to being a vampire, other than a severe case of Generic Angst. Getting rid of the usual tradeoffs one must make for immortality, such as losing one's soul (a la Buffy) or not being able to be around other vampires (a la Tanya Huff's Blood Books), makes the vampire's existence way too simple. It also provides an easy way for the vampire to be with the one he loves forever -- because vamping the human girl will have no ill side effects whatsoever -- thereby removing the romance's essential conflict.

But, problems aside, I think it's a great thing when authors do something original with how the rules of vampirism work. I also find it frustrating when people treat the laws of Hollywood vampires as if they were the real traditional vampire, rather than old and varied folk legends -- or even early vampire fiction. If someone made a film of Varney the Vampire, for example, people would be pissed at how he's not super attractive, he can enter homes uninvited, and he can go out in the daylight.

Sparkly vampires seem silly on the surface, and it hardly has the same symbolic significance as vampires needing to avoid the sunlight because it could kill them. But it is an original twist and an interesting explanation for that particular vampire trope. It's a pity that Stephenie Meyer stopped there, because in the hands of a better author, sparkly vampires could have been the beginning of an intriguing deconstruction of the "traditional" vampire.

Chapter 29: In Which a Digression is Actually Welcomed

2010-06-15T21:45:00.002-05:00

Previously in Varney the Vampire: Flora is still the only reasonable one and everyone else is still insufferably dull.

I complained about the previous digressions because I thought they distracted from the story -- even the ones that provided awkward exposition necessary to understand later story points. So is it hypocritical of me now to be glad that Chapter 29 ( A PEEP THOROUGH AN IRON GRATING. -- THE LONELY PRISONER IN HIS DUNGEON. -- THE MYSTERY.) is another digression?

Probably, but I just don't think I can handle more of the Bannerworths right now.

Chapter 29 concerns a mysterious prisoner in a mysterious dungeon and is narrated by William Shatner:

Some distance from the Hall, which, from time immemorial, had been the home and the property of the Bannerworth family, was an ancient ruin known by the name of Monks' Hall...

Ostensibly for religious purposes, but really as a stronghold for defence, as well as for aggression, this Monks' Hall, as it was called, partook quite as much of the character of a fortress, as of an ecclesiastical building.

All (most, at least) kidding aside, even if I weren't in need of a break I would genuinely enjoy this chapter. It's this really odd mix of over-the-top and subtle that is the exact same awesomely bad writing style that I loved about the first chapter of Varney, before inconvenient things like characters came into play.

JMR addresses the reader way too much (probably the trope I dislike the most about 19th century fiction) and goes on way too long about the ruins and how ruiny they are and oh by the way did I mention there are ruins, of course, in classic JMR fashion. But the scene with the prisoner is genuinely creepy, probably the creepiest scene in the book so far (including the appearances of Varney himself). If JMR hadn't felt the need to tack the "this is important, by the way, I will show you how important this is later" note at the end, he would have had a decent chapter instead of another unintentionally humorous one.

Chapter 30: In Which the Blogger Observes a Pattern

Chapter 28: In Which Our Heroes Begin Their Search

2010-06-14T20:54:00.002-05:00

Previously in Varney the Vampire: Flora trusts Charles and is therefore obviously insane.

As Chapter 28 (MR. MARCHDALE'S EXCULPATION OF HIMSELF. -- THE SEARCH THROUGH THE GARDENS. -- THE SPOT OF THE DEADLY STRUGGLE. -- THE MYSTERIOUS PAPER.) begins, Our Heroes begin the search for Charles and I begin to wonder what happened to the beloved Admiral character I found so entertaining in past chapters.

He's still there, of course, but the general dullness of the rest of the cast seems to have worn off on him. That's the problem with JMR's characters in general. A few of them are interesting on their own (like Flora, when she's taking care of herself instead of being patronized by Our Heroes) or in pairs (like Henry and Flora or Charles and the Admiral). But I think JMR has trouble balancing scenes with more than three characters, or something, because so often when the characters are together in a group they just turn into a giant ball of bland. Even Varney isn't nearly as interesting in a crowd than he is with just one guest.

Oblivious to my boredom, Our Heroes search for Charles, but only find an unreadable note, covered in mud. They return home with some delightfully condescending advice for Flora:

"They have killed him! they have killed him!" she said mournfully. "Oh, God, they have killed him! I am not now mad, but the time will come when I must surely be maddened. The vampyre has killed Charles Holland -- the dreadful vampyre!"

"Nay, now, Flora, this is frenzy."

"Because he loved me has he been destroyed. I know it, I know it. The vampyre has doomed me to destruction..."

"Hush, sister, hush!" cried Henry. "I expected not this from you. The expressions you use are not your expressions...."

"Calm! calm!"

"Yes. Make an exertion of that intellect we all know you to possess..."

I'll say this about Flora, despite JMR's inconsistent handling of her character: she's the character who most consistently displays human emotions appropriate for the situation, and yet is consistently treated as if she's the only one not doing so.

Anyway, Henry leaves the Admiral to protect Flora, and finally someone tells off Marchdale:

"Amen to that," cried the admiral; "and now, my dear, if you have got half an hour to spare, just tuck your arm under mine, and take a walk with me in the garden, for I want to say something to you."

"Most willingly," said Flora.

"I would not advise you to stray far from the house, Miss Bannerworth," said Marchdale.

"Nobody asked you for advice," said the admiral. "D -- -e, do you want to make out that I ain't capable of taking care of her?"

"No, no; but -- "

"Oh, nonsense! Come along, my dear; and if all the vampyres and odd fish that were ever created were to come across our path, we would settle them somehow or another. Come along, and don't listen to anybody's croaking."

That's the highlight of the chapter, really, so it's good that the chapter ends there.

Chapter 29: In Which a Digression is Actually Welcomed

Chapter 27: In Which the Contrived Obstacle is Conveniently Resolved

2010-06-13T20:15:00.002-05:00

Previously in Varney the Vampire: I rant a bit more than usual.

I already kind of covered Chapter 27 (THE NOBLE CONFIDENCE OF FLORA BANNERWORTH IN HER LOVER. -- HER OPINION OF THE THREE LETTERS. -- THE ADMIRAL'S ADMIRATION.) in the last chapter, albeit briefly, which leaves me in the awkward place of not having much more to say about it, except to repeat "stupid" over and over while banging my head against a wall.

As I've mentioned before, I'm reading from the annotated edition by Curt Herr, who is at a great advantage over me not only due to being a scholar of this sort of thing and not just a bored fan with a blog, but due to not having committed himself to commenting on every chapter.

The essential problem with Varney the Vampire is not that it is good or bad, but that it is inconsistent. I rant for a few chapters about how bad it is, giggle delightfully for a few chapters about how entertainingly cheesy it is, and then read a legitimately good chapter or two and feel genuinely bad for making fun of it. The good parts are more interesting to read, but the bad parts are more interesting to comment on.

As to Chapter 27 in particular, the two main problems here are the whiplash, which I mentioned in the last post (and which I'm sure there's a literary name for that I've simply not learned) and the problematic portrayal of Flora, which just keeps rearing its ugly head. Once more, the story is All About the Men. Henry and the Admiral share the letters with Marchdale before deigning to excite poor Flora over their contents, and when she dares to react with emotion they declare her mad. After she asserts that the letters are forgeries (forged by whom and why? it doesn't matter, apparently), Marchdale doesn't even seem to believe her:

It was quite clear that he considered Flora had spoken from the generous warmth of her affection as regarded Charles Holland, and not from the conviction which reason would have enforced her to feel.

Because, as we all know, Our Heroes' reaction to the vampire has always been the epitome of reason...

But it doesn't matter. Flora entrusts the men with the task of finding Charles, and I'm left wondering where this story is going and why.

Chapter 28: In Which Our Heroes Begin Their Search

Chapter 26: In Which Charles Is Kind Of a Dick (Or So We Think)

2010-06-12T22:39:00.002-05:00

Previously in Varney the Vampire: Story time!

I kind of want to take my original "tension, not whiplash" post and beat JMR over the head with it. I know it's only a few kilobytes of HTML code and therefore not very heavy, but it's the principle of the thing.

See, because we know Charles loves Flora, and we know he wanted to duel the vampire, and we know that now he's off to meet the vampire. And yet in Chapter 26 (THE MEETING AT MOONLIGHT IN THE PARK. -- THE TURRET WINDOW IN THE HALL. -- THE LETTERS.), he sneaks out of the house at night, leaving letters to Henry and the Admiral about how Flora is becoming a vampire and he can't possibly marry her.

Yes, I skipped ahead to the next chapter, and (SPOILER ALERT!) it was just as I suspected: Flora sees the letters and proclaims them forgeries, and everyone is happy again. But that doesn't change the fact that it's not dramatic tension. It's a random out-of-character scene that provides a brief moment of unrealistic tension and then is immediately rectified in the next scene.

I guess it kind of works if you're reading the story chapter by chapter, which was the entire point of this blog in the first place -- but then again, in a way it's much worse, because you have to wait a week or however long for the next chapter only to discover that what appears to be the next big plotline is suddenly and conveniently resolved with no problems whatsoever.

Man, there are a couple of unintentionally funny quotes in this chapter, but they are not good enough to distract me from the fact that Varney is seriously pissing me off.

Chapter 27: In Which the Contrived Obstacle is Conveniently Resolved

Chapter 25: In Which the Admiral Tells a Story

2010-06-11T21:45:00.001-05:00

Previously in Varney the Vampire: Charles resolves to do something stupid.

Chapter 25 (THE ADMIRAL'S OPINION. -- THE REQUEST OF CHARLES.) is the second digression in six chapters. Really, JMR? But to be fair, this one kind of has to do with the story, in that rather than someone reading an unrelated tale, the Admiral relates it to Charles. I'm not going to quote because I didn't really find much to nitpick, but the gist is that a giant stranger appears, seemingly out of nowhere, on a ship during a sea voyage. He summons up a storm, drinks all their coffee, and disappears again.

In his annotated edition of Varney the Vampire, Curt Herr notes that there are parallels between the Admiral's story and the episode on the Demeter in Dracula. I haven't studied the texts extensively, so maybe there are more intricate details I'm missing, but "they're both creepy stories about a supernatural figure on a boat in books about vampires" comes across as more coincidence than anything.

When I read the footnote, I expected the twist at the end to be that the stranger on the boat was Varney. The storm thing is hard to explain for a vampire, but as JMR hasn't fully established the rules of vampirism at this point in the narrative, I can't discount anything for sure. But the eating and drinking definitely proves that the stranger on the boat isn't a vampire.

So in the end, the story is really not related to Varney any more than the penny dreadful Flora read in Chapter 19 -- merely better integrated, and (I think) an overall more interesting story. Entertaining enough, but I'd like to get back to Varney.

Chapter 26: In Which Charles is Kind Of a Dick (Or So We Think)

Chapter 24: In Which Charles Prepares to Meet His Doom

2010-06-10T22:09:00.003-05:00

Previously in Varney the Vampire: The Admiral's awesomeness cannot withstand the presence of Varney.

Chapter 24 (THE LETTER TO CHARLES. -- THE QUARREL. -- THE ADMIRAL'S NARRATIVE. -- THE MIDNIGHT MEETING.) begins with the Admiral advising Charles to forget the duel entirely:

"D -- n it all, Jack, I don't know how to get out of it," said the admiral. "I tell you what it is, Charles, he wants to fight with swords; and what on earth is the use of your engaging with a fellow who has been practising at his weapon for more than a hundred years?"

The vampire's age really only came into play in the last chapter and was rather glossed over, so I'm glad that this is becoming a pattern. It also provides an interesting -- and again, bizarrely rational -- twist to things: they're not afraid of the vampire because he can use his teeth, but because he's become an expert at ordinary, human weapons.

It suddenly occurs to me that perhaps I'm reading the subtext wrong -- ignoring the sexual component to the vampire attacks a bit too easily. Varney's attacks on Flora are sexual -- not nearly as sexual as the vampire bites in Dracula or in much modern vampire fiction, but the undertone is there nonetheless. In my frustration at the fact that the men aren't frightened enough of the vampire, I'm ignoring the fact that the vampire attacking one of the men would be homoerotic. Perhaps in the men's minds (or JMR's), such an attack would therefore be unthinkable.

I'm sure this theory will be contradicted by the end of the book, but for now it satisfies me.

At any rate, Charles and the Admiral fret for a bit when they are interrupted by a letter from Varney:

"SIR, -- Your uncle, as he stated himself to be, Admiral Bell, was the bearer to me, as I understood him this day, of a challenge from you. Owing to some unaccountable hallucination of intellect, he seemed to imagine that I intended to set myself up as a sort of animated target, for any one to shoot at who might have a fancy so to do..."

God, I love Varney. Perhaps if he'd shown up in the first few chapters, the story would not have seemed so tedious and I would not have become inspired to start this blog at all.

So Varney offers to meet Charles alone at night to clear the whole thing up. Worried that admitting fear will rob him of his manhood, Charles resolves to do so. First, of course, he has to say farewell to Flora, all but shouting "I'm going to do something terribly stupid!" He kisses her -- a significant act, considering the sexual mores of the day -- and then goes off to meet the vampire:

"What can this be," he exclaimed, "that thus oppressed me? What feeling is this that seems to tell me, I shall never again see Flora Bannerworth?"...

"Oh, this is weakness," he then added. "I must fight out against this; it is mere nervousness. I must not endure it, I will not suffer myself thus to become the sport of imagination. Courage, courage, Charles Holland. There are real evils enough, without your adding to them by those of a disordered fancy. Courage, courage, courage."

I think this is one of the few chapter endings so far that actually feels suspenseful. For the most part they either sort of dick around until JMR decides he has enough words down or leave us with overdramatic, contrived cliffhangers. Charles has not been a consistently human or believable character -- though he's better than some of the others -- but here, I really get a glimpse of true emotion, and it makes me want to continue reading.

Chapter 25: In Which the Admiral Tells a Story

Chapter 23: In Which a Duel is Arranged

2010-06-09T21:21:00.001-05:00

Previously in Varney the Vampire: Henry considers renting the Bannerworth house to Varney. I... smell... SITCOM!

Chapter 23 (THE ADMIRAL'S ADVICE TO CHARLES HOLLAND. -- THE CHALLENGE TO THE VAMPYRE.), which is really much longer than it has any right to be, begins with the Admiral advising Charles to fight the vampire. Says Charles:

"...Should I overcome Varney, there will most likely be at once an end to the numerous and uncomfortable perplexities of the Bannerworths as regards him; and if he overcome me, why, then, at all events, I shall have made an effort to rescue Flora from the dread of this man."

Or you'll be dead because you're fighting a f***ing vampire who has survived bullet wounds and... oh, I give up.

So the Admiral agrees to be Charles's second and goes to deliver a note to Varney, leaving Charles to consider "the best means of preventing the resuscitation of the corpse of a vampire." After considering the various means of killing a vampire, Charles has a sudden revelation about what vampirism -- and immortality -- really entails:

"What changes he must have witnessed about him in that time," thought Charles. "How he must have seen kingdoms totter and fall, and how many changes of habits, of manners, and of custom must he have become a spectator of. Renewing too, ever and anon, his fearful existence by such fearful means."

It's a short paragraph, but it's the first real exploration of Varney's age and how immortality has affected his character.

Meanwhile, the Admiral visits Varney with Charles's offer of a duel. Once again, I absolutely adore Varney. His dialogue is just so subtly creepy. (I suspect that is often unintentional, since subtlety is not generally JMR's strong suit.) It's just so casual and calm; for example:

"I have no particular objection. Have you settled all your affairs, and made your will?"

"What's that to you?"

"Oh, I only asked, because there is generally so much food for litigation if a man dies intestate, and is worth any money."

"You make devilish sure," said the admiral, "of being the victor. Have you made your will?"

"Oh, my will," smiled Sir Francis; "that, my good sir, is quite an indifferent affair."

They agree to duel with swords (guns being too modern and barbarous for Varney). And I'm sorry for quoting so much, but Varney just keeps being wonderfully calm and downright smug:

"Oh, I beg your pardon there. I never challenge anybody, and when foolish people call me out, contrary to my inclination, I think I am bound to take what care of myself I can."

"D -- n me, there's some reason in that, too," said the admiral; "but why do you insult people?"

"People insult me first."

So the Admiral leaves in a huff, and in the end the chapter didn't seem nearly as long as it appeared. Varney's presence in the story for which he is the title character does that to one's interest, I suppose.

Chapter 24: In Which Charles Prepares to Meet His Doom

Digression: Regarding Sexy Vampires

2010-06-08T19:08:00.000-05:00

Man, I am just not feeling good today. So in place of our Regularly Scheduled Program, here's a confession:

I don't understand why vampires are supposed to be sexy.

I mean, I get the whole sex-and-death connection, but the way vampires are presented in literature usually seems more unintentionally creepy than sexually attractive. More often than not, vampires are a hundred years old or more, hailing from the Good Old Days before men were generally expected to not be chauvinistic assholes. Yet they look young forever, which usually leads them to women in their teens as love interests. Combined with the fact that vampires are monsters and therefore can't control their actions, this leads to a host of behaviors that are at best unattractive and at worst emotionally abusive.

The best vampire stories, romances or not, present the vampire as a sympathetic yet problematic figure, and vampirism as a condition with downsides more severe than a chronic case of Generic Angst. Off the top of my head, I enjoy the portrayal of the vampire in Tanya Huff's Blood Books. Henry is a balanced character, intense and sexual but also genuinely frightening, and the relationships are more complicated than "sexy vampire = true love."

I prefer vampires as balanced, developed villains than woobiefied, misunderstood figures or generically supernatural love interests. But no one seems to write them like that anymore.

Chapter 22: In Which a Convenient Obstacle Appears

2010-06-07T21:07:00.001-05:00

Previously in Varney the Vampire: For a short while, I have a difficult time finding things to make fun of.

At the beginning of Chapter 22 (THE CONSULTATION. -- THE DETERMINATION TO LEAVE THE HALL.), Henry heads "the most seriously reasonable meeting which had been held at Bannerworth Hall on the subject of the much dreaded vampyre." I find this a completely fair assessment, considering how stupidly everyone acted in the first several chapters. It was funny while it lasted, but now that the vampire has been singularly revealed, it seems that most of the characters have rediscovered their capacity for rational responses.

There's a tradeoff, of course, in that they perhaps become too rational, too suddenly. The vampire that was both frightning and wonderfully humanized in Chapter 20 doesn't seem to inspire quite so much fear in the Bannerworths & Friends as it should. They could be discussing a real estate deal, for all that... Oh, wait, they are. Nevermind.

Am I being overly nitpicky and critical? Well, yes. But that's just how I have fun.

...I don't get out much.

Anyway, we learn, in a few rambling, run-on sentences, that getting rid of the vampire isn't quite as easy as selling the house. Most of the family's fortune is drained by the late Bannerworth father's gambling debts. Thankfully, Victorian creditors weren't as vicious as the ones today, and let the family keep the house -- but Henry knows that they can take it away at any time.

So they start discussing what to do about the Vampire Problem and, for the love of God, they still aren't sure that the guy is a vampire!

"Have circumstances really so far pressed upon you," said Charles Holland, "as at length to convince you that this man is really the horrible creature we surmise he may be?"

"Dare we longer doubt it?" cried Henry, in a tone of excitement. "He is the vampyre."

"I'll be hanged if I believe it," said Admiral Bell! "Stuff and nonsense! Vampyre, indeed! Bother the vampyre."

Okay, okay, the Admiral has an excuse. Charles, though, who just got through that whole "is that the vampire? is it really the vampire?" conversation with Flora? What is even going on? This goes back to the whole "whiplash, not tension" problem we've had from the beginning: having the characters go back and forth between "he's a vampire/vampires exist" and "he's not a vampire/vampires don't exist" doesn't make the story scary, or tense, or interesting. It just makes your characters f***ing annoying.

Eventually, Marchdale suggests that if they can't sell the house, maybe they can rent it to Varney. They've just finished deciding to take some time off to think about it when George arrives with Chillingworth. So I guess that last line in Chapter 21 wasn't a throwaway, after all.

Chillingworth reveals that he treated Varney for a bullet wound. He noticed the resemblance to the infamous Bannerworth portrait, but:

"It was all one to me whether he was a vampyre or not, professionally, and however deeply I might feel, personally, interested in the matter, I said nothing to him about it, because, you see, if I had, he would have had a fair opportunity of saying at once, 'Pray, sir, what is that to you?' and I should have been at a loss what to reply."

Even in context, Chillingworth is so calm it's hilarious. He's basically the strawman skeptic of the group, staunch in his disbelief that Varney is a vampire even in the face of solid evidence, without the kind of doubt and turmoil that the other character experience.

Then the chapter ends on this great cliffhanger:

"Then this consultation is over," said Henry, "and we quite understand that to leave the Hall is a matter determined on, and that in a few days a decision shall come as to whether Varney the Vampyre shall be its tenant or not."

Oh, man. I'll be on the edge of my very seat for, I don't know, the five or ten chapters it takes to get to a few days from now.

(Does anyone even read this anymore? I know I haven't been good with my update schedule in the past, but I got better! Anyway, just drop a comment so I know you're listening. I'm having lots of fun on my own but it's always nice to have an audience.)

Chapter 23: In Which a Duel is Arranged

Chapter 21: In Which Varney Clearly Should Have Been a Comedy

2010-06-06T22:24:00.001-05:00

Previously in Varney the Vampire: Varney makes Flora an offer she can't refuse.

The first half of Chapter 21 (THE CONFERENCE BETWEEN THE UNCLE AND NEPHEW, AND THE ALARM.) is, without a doubt, the best scene JMR has written so far in Varney the Vampire. It consists entirely of tagless dialogue between Charles and the Admiral, and every moment of it is hilarious.

Say what you will about JMR's dramatic writing (Lord knows I do), but he has a great sense of comedic dialogue and timing. The pacing is lightning-fast and I could actually hear the conversation play out in my head, which almost never happens when I'm reading. I had trouble picking out just one part to quote, but you can read it all yourself here.

But then Charles hears Flora's scream from the end of the last chapter, and the pacing slows abruptly as we return to drama (with just a few more comedic interjections from the Admiral). Charles vows to defend her, but she begs the men to just give up the Bannerworth house so that Varney will leave them alone. Rather than listening to Flora outright, of course, they decide to hold a council to decide what must be done.

Only the last line of the chapter really jumped out at me:

George had gone to call on Mr. Chillingworth, so he was not present at the first part of this serious council of war.

Since JMR seems to gradually forget that George exists throughout the course of the story, that line just seems like a random afterthought to me. Like he needed one more sentence to meet his word count and suddenly remembered that he'd forgotten George. As a reader, I honestly don't care what happened to George. His character was never distinct enough to make an impression on me.

Chapter 22: In Which a Convenient Obstacle Appears

Chapter 20: In Which Varney Makes a More Threatening Offer than Last Time

2010-06-05T19:48:00.001-05:00

Previously in Varney the Vampire: JMR got tired of the story and wrote something else instead.

I've mentioned the problematic portrayal of Flora before. Even though it's practically progressive for the time in a number of ways -- such as Flora having enough agency to attack the vampire herself -- the story is still framed around the men. The problems the vampire causes are problems because they hurt the men, and Flora, despite being the victim of the attacks, is too weak and female to worry her pretty head about it or to be informed about what's going on.

Chapter 20 (THE DREADFUL MISTAKE. -- THE TERRIFIC INTERVIEW IN THE CHAMBER. -- THE ATTACK OF THE VAMPYRE) is another one of those mixed, positive-yet-problematic portrayals of Flora. It begins with Flora, having finished reading the story from Chapter 19, hearing a knock at the door.

First we have an awkward paragraph justifying why Flora isn't nervous about answering the door as she was when Henry arrived last time, which is foreshadowing in the same way that bashing someone over the head with a large vase is a nice subtle way to get their attention. Obviously, she opens the door and it's not Henry, but the vampire!

He had drawn up his tall, gaunt frame to its full height, and crossed his arms upon his breast; there was a hideous smile upon his sallow countenance, and his voice was deep and sepulchral, as he said, --

"Flora Bannerworth, hear that which I have to say, and hear it calmly. You need have nothing to fear. Make an alarm -- scream, or shout for help, and, by the hell beneath us, you are lost!"

There was a death-like, cold, passionless manner about the utterance of these words, as if they were spoken mechanically, and came from no human lips.

I just love that introduction. "Don't be afraid, and I'll kill you if you scream!" I think it sums up the essential conflict in Varney -- and any character of a vampire wanting to be human, really -- which is the struggle between wanting others to treat one as an ordinary human, but not wanting to give up the power and danger that comes with being a vampire.

This chapter is great for showing us more of Varney's character. While his dialogue has been mostly laconic during his previous appearances, here he really opens up to Flora, even implying that he loves her:

"Charles Holland loves me truly."

"It does not suit me now to dispute that point with you. I have the means of knowing more of the secrets of the human heart than common men. I tell you, Flora Bannerworth, that he who talks to you of love, loves you not but with the fleeting fancy of a boy; and there is one who hides deep in his heart a world of passion, one who has never spoken to you of love, and yet who loves you with a love as afar surpassing the evanescent fancy of this boy Holland, as does the mighty ocean the most placid lake that ever basked in idleness beneath a summer's sun."

There was a wonderful fascination in the manner now of Varney. His voice sounded like music itself. His words flowed from his tongue, each gently and properly accented, with all the charm of eloquence.

But I said I was going to talk about Flora. Basically, Varney explains to her that he wants the Bannerworth house, and offers not to kill Charles or Henry, nor attack her anymore, if she convinces Henry to sell him the house.

The fact that Flora is finally in charge of her own fate is what jumped out at me. The choice Varney gives her is coerced, not free or good -- but while Flora's brothers tried to hide the reality of her attack from her, Varney gives her what she needs to protect herself from him. In a way, he treats her more respectfully, more as an equal, than any of the human men we've encountered in the story so far.

Of course, Flora falls right back into negative feminine stereotypes at the end of the chapter, screaming and fainting with little provocation because That's What Women Do. But for a moment there, things were getting very interesting.

Chapter 21: In Which Varney Clearly Should Have Been a Comedy

Chapter 19: In Which JMR Writes His Own Digressions

2010-06-04T22:56:00.001-05:00

Previously in Varney the Vampire: The Admiral arrives, and Charles angsts some more.

Clearly even penny dreadful writers get writers' block, because JMR decided to take Chapter 19 (FLORA IN HER CHAMBER. -- HER FEARS. -- THE MANUSCRIPT. -- AN ADVENTURE) off and write a short story, "Hugo de Verole; or, the Double Plot," instead. The chapter begins with Henry visiting Flora, Flora angsting over the arrival of the admiral, and then Flora randomly sitting down to read this story.

I don't really have much to say about this story, although that might just be because I have a headache. It's very dialogue-heavy in the beginning, but later falls into that 19th-century writing style I particularly dislike, where the narration feels more like the summary of a longer, better story than a short story in its own right. For example:

By a strange coincidence, the doctor and the young count became companions, and the former, meditating projects of revenge, educated the young count as well as he was able for several years in the mines, and cherished in the young man a spirit of revenge. They finally escaped together, and proceeded to Leyden, where the doctor had friends, and where he placed his pupil at the university, and thus made him a most efficient means of revenge, because the education of the count gave him a means of appreciating the splendour and rank he had been deprived of. He, therefore, determined to remain at Leyden until he was of age, and then apply to his father's friends, and then to his sovereign, to dispossess and punish them both for their double crimes.

But don't take my word for it; you can read it for yourselves, even if you haven't been following along with the plot of Varney the Vampire. If I weren't blogging about Varney, I would have just skipped the chapter entirely and moved ahead to Flora's next exciting encounter with the vampire in Chapter 20.

Chapter 20: In Which Varney Makes a More Threatening Offer than Last Time

Chapter 18: In Which the Admiral Becomes the Most Interesting Character in the Book

2010-06-03T23:02:00.001-05:00

Previously in Varney the Vampire: Our Heroes try to make Varney blow his cover and only succeed in making him angry.

I honestly cannot believe I am only on Chapter 18. I had to go over my old entries yesterday to make sure I didn't accidentally misnumber something or skip a chapter. I feel like so much has happened in eighteen chapters and yet, paradoxically, many of those events have been stretched out to the point of tedium. I haven't been skipping ahead too much, because I want to keep my reactions genuine and relevant to the particular chapters, but I've skipped ahead enough to know that the Bannerworths' story goes on for nearly a hundred more chapters. How on Earth is this nonsense sustainable?

Anway, Chapter 18 (THE ADMIRAL'S ADVICE. -- THE CHALLENGE TO THE VAMPYRE. -- THE NEW SERVANT AT THE HALL.), we return to the character of the Admiral, who was first introduced in Chapter 15 and whom I rather liked. The bell rings, and George has to answer it himself due to the servants being too afraid to stay in a house with a vampire.

"And who the d----l are you?" cried one who was immediately outside.

"Who do you want?" cried George.

"Shiver my timbers!" cried Admiral Bell, for it was no other than that personage. "What's that to you?"

"Ay, ay," added Jack, "answer that if you can, you shore-going-looking swab."

Okay, I laughed. Whatever the literary equivalent of chewing the scenery is, the Admiral fits the description -- but I like it. I'm actually inspired to keep reading just to figure out what the hell a character like this is doing in a vampire novel. And then this:

"Come along, then; yet, stop a bit. I say, young fellow, just before we go any further, tell us if he has maimed the vampyre?"

"The what?"

"The wamphigher," said Jack, by way of being, as he considered, a little more explanatory than the admiral.

It's a relief to have something to laugh at that's intentionally funny, not just bad, and JMR really does write the character interaction between the Admiral and Jack quite well so far.

So George takes the Admiral to see Charles. A bit of expository dialogue ensues as they walk, reminding the audience of what happened in Chapter 15: the Admiral doesn't want Charles to marry Flora. So the Admiral confronts Charles, who asks for a chance to make his case.

We then get some more backstory: it seems that Charles came into a fortune, but the Admiral is his trustee until he reaches 21; or, as JMR puts it:

A considerable sum of money had been left to him, but it was saddled with the condition that he should not come into possession of it until he was one year beyond the age which is usually denominated that of discretion, namely, twenty-one.

Really, JMR? Was your chapter really twelve words too short?

But not to nitpick too long (although isn't that the entire premise of this blog?). The rest of the chapter is pretty much just more of the same: Charles considers his backstory carefully, briefly consults with Henry and then goes off to tell his uncle what's going on. Meanwhile, Henry goes off to see Flora, whom we encounter again in the next chapter.

Chapter 19: In Which JMR Writes His Own Digressions

Chapter 17: In Which Varney Never Drinks... Vine

2010-06-02T19:12:00.001-05:00

Previously in Varney the Vampire: Charles and Flora are overcome by obvious symbolism.

The whole of Varney the Vampire is so bad that it's often hard to tell, when I come across a well-written and effective scene, whether JMR happened to churn out the chapter on a good day, or whether he just accidentally stumbled upon it. The opening to Chapter 17 (THE EXPLANATION. -- THE ARRIVAL OF THE ADMIRAL AT THE HOUSE. -- A SCENE OF CONFUSION, AND SOME OF ITS RESULTS.) is, I believe, one of those accidents, simply because the style that works so well in the chapter's opening becomes tedious -- even comical -- as the chapter wears on.

The previous chapter ended with Flora crying out: "The vampyre! the vampyre!" Varney, who has appeared in the garden, smoothly apologizes for intruding and introduces himself. George, Henry, and Marchdale arrive shortly, having heard Flora's cries. Flora remains in a state of shock, begging Charles to protect her.

"Take me away," whispered Flora. "'Tis he -- 'tis he. Oh, take me away, Charles."
"Hush, Flora, hush. You are in some error; the accidental resemblance should not make us be rude to this gentleman."
"The vampyre! -- it is the vampyre!"
"Are you sure, Flora?"
"Do I know your features -- my own -- my brother's? Do not ask me to doubt -- I cannot. I am quite sure. Take me from his hideous presence, Charles."
"The young lady, I fear, is very much indisposed," remarked Sir Francis Varney, in a sympathetic tone of voice. "If she will take my arm, I shall esteem it a great honour."

"No -- no -- no! -- God! no," cried Flora.
"Madam, I will not press you."
He bowed, and Charles led Flora from the summer-house towards the hall.

Varney's behavior is just so delightfully and subtly creepy, just as in his first appearance. He seems almost detached from the rest of the scene.

So Charles leads Flora away and seems to immediately forget that Varney is the vampire, since Flora's repetition of that fact (presumably for the sake of an audience that can't handle even the faintest semblance of subtlety) is met with a surprised exclamation of "Good God!"

The characters also seem to forget that Henry practically accused Varney of being the vampire last time the two met -- perhaps a bit more understandable, since it happened several chapters ago -- so we have to go through the same thing all over again, except more tediously, once Charles leaves Flora with her mother and rejoins the others.

As the (intentionally) awkward and forced conversation goes on, Our Heroes seem to think they can trick Varney into admitting that he's a vampire with such questions as "May I ask how long ago [your childhood] was?" and this (unintentionally) comical scene where they see if he'll drink wine:

"Gentlemen all," said Sir Francis Varney, in such soft, dulcet tones, that it was quite a fascination to hear him speak; "gentlemen all, being as I am, much delighted with your company, do not accuse me of presumption, if I drink now, poor drinker that I am, to our future merry meetings."
He raised the wine to his lips, and seemed to drink, after which he replaced the glass upon the table.
Charles glanced at it, it was still full.
"You have not drank, Sir Francis Varney," he said.
"Pardon me, enthusiastic young sir," said Varney, "perhaps you will have the liberality to allow me to take my wine how I please and when I please."
"Your glass is full."
"Well, sir?"
"Will you drink it?"

I suppose this is supposed to illustrate a minor triumph of Our Heroes, but it only makes me think of Monty Python's Dead Parrot sketch.

Varney pulls the reader back into the creepiness of the moment -- something he's been generally good at, so far -- by replying: "If the fair Flora Bannerworth would grace the board with her sweet presence, methinks I could then drink on, on, on." Here, we don't need any melodramatic declarations of emotion or descriptions of Varney's facial expression or tone of voice -- the dialogue gives us everything we need.

That doesn't solve the overarching problem with the scene, however -- or, for that matter, with Our Heroes' actions in general. Why are they so eager to show Varney that they know he's a vampire? The guy has survived bullets and who knows what else. Do they really think it's that easy to make him say with a shrug, "Oh, hey, you caught me; I'm not drinking my wine. Guess that makes me a vampire!"

Seems like he'd be more likely, if he admits anything, to give a creepy half-smirk, followed by, "So, you've discovered my secret. For that, you must die."

But unfortunately, Our Heroes must live on, so Varney doesn't let their stupidity goad him into breaking his cover. When Charles and Henry stop beating around the bush and flat-out accuse him of being a vampire, he -- being a gentleman -- challenges Henry to a duel for the insult. The outcome of the duel will have to wait several more chapters, however, as we're left on another boring cliffhanger.

Chapter 18: In Which the Admiral Becomes the Most Interesting Character in the Book

Chapter 16: In Which Charles and Flora Tempt Fate

2010-06-01T15:08:00.001-05:00

Previously in Varney the Vampire: We meet the Admiral, and I abandon the blog.

It's been a while since I caught up on the story. Thankfully, Chapter 16 (THE MEETING OF THE LOVERS IN THE GARDEN. -- AN AFFECTING SCENE. -- THE SUDDEN APPEARANCE OF SIR FRANCIS VARNEY) begins with a friendly recap:

Our readers will recollect that Flora Bannerworth had made an appointment with Charles Holland in the garden of the hall.

As he awaits their meeting, Charles angsts in the most delightfully melodramatic way:

"Shall I," he said, "sink so low in my own estimation, as well as in hers, and in that of all honourable-minded persons, as to desert her now in the hour of affliction? Dare I be so base as actually or virtually to say to her, 'Flora, when your beauty was undimmed by sorrow -- when all around you seemed life and joy, I loved you selfishly for the increased happiness which you might bestow upon me; but now the hand of misfortune presses heavily upon you -- you are not what you were, and I desert you?' Never -- never -- never!"

Even after some time away, I feel I've read enough of Varney the Vampire to adapt my taste to its style. Charles is so silly and over-the-top, and yet in context it actually kind of works. I'm really surprised that no one's adapted a B movie of Varney. (Or maybe they have and I've just missed it?) They could practically cut and paste dialogue directly from JMR's pen.

Aspiring camp horror filmmakers out there, take notice.

Anyway, after JMR pads his word count a bit by describing the plants in the garden and repeating Charles's earlier sentiments a few more times, Flora arrives. Charles proclaims her love for her while she attempts to break up with him on the grounds that she's becoming a vampire. I don't have anything in particular to quote, but the scene as a whole is actually very sweet. It's the kind of scene that makes me want to write cheesy, fluffy Flora/Charles fanfiction despite the fact that no one will read it.

The ending, though, works very hard to ruin the moment. Charles declares that he will not abandon Flora:

"Then let sorrow and misfortune shake their grisly locks in vain," he cried. "Heart to heart -- hand to hand with me, defy them."

He lifted up his arms towards Heaven as he spoke, and at the moment came such a rattling peal of thunder, that the very earth seemed to shake upon its axis.

So Flora takes the thunder as a sign from God that they've made a terrible mistake and fate will punish them, proclaiming once more that she and Charles must never be together. But suddenly, the sun shines on her face, and it's a sign that everything's okay now and they can be together!

The chapter ends in a cliffhanger as the vampire suddenly reappears, so I fully expect Flora to vascillate again between "I love you Charles" and "but we can never be together!", with little thought other than "it must be a sign!" This is not how you write conflict. It's how you give your readers whiplash.

Chapter 17: In Which Varney Never Drinks... Vine

Digression: I Shall Return

2010-05-30T17:04:00.000-05:00

I have decided to join the 30-Day Blog Challenge to inspire myself to come back to this blog. Between work and poor health I have trouble motivating myself, but I have come to realize that I need more fun writing in my life and a reason to do it.

So, my dear readers (the one or two of you who are still around), look forward to a month of daily blog posts in June, and hopefully enough momentum to continue beyond that. In the mean time, check out my Star Wars articles at About.com, which are irrelevant to this blog except in that I also find them great fun.

Digression: Star Wars

2010-03-10T19:12:00.000-06:00

Haven't been keeping up with this blog again... This time I have a somewhat reasonable excuse, since I've been busy with my new job: writing articles about Star Wars for About.com! One of the more geeky and enjoyable ways in which I've been trying to make actual money, which this blog, unfortunately, does not do. I may try for new posts on Sunday, since I usually take all or most of the day off then, but I can't promise that updates won't be sporadic. Sorry. =(

Chapter 15: In Which More Soap Operatic Elements are Introduced

2010-01-27T23:05:00.001-06:00

Previously in Varney the Vampire: Varney's appearance may have been worth the wait.

As Chapter 15 begins, we learn that the Bannerworths' servants have all quit due to the Vampire Problem, and the entire scandalous affair is at the center of all the gossip at a local inn, Nelson's Arms. This is all just a segue to the arrival of a new character, an old admiral, at the inn.

The trend I'm continuing to notice is that as long as the characters speak one sentence at a time, it's JMR's best tool for character building. He keeps the narration well away from the dialogue for the most part, letting it speak for itself. Mostly it's his narration that sucks, or whenever he lets his characters get too introspective, or talk for too long a period of time. But these short snappy bits of dialogue work to give us a picture of the admiral as a character, just like they worked to give us the picture of Varney we've seen so far.

Anyway, the admiral has arrived to meet a lawyer, Josiah Crinkles (who got beat up a lot in elementary school, I'm sure). It seems that Crinkles sent him a letter warning that the admiral's relative, Charles Holland, was about to marry a vampire. Now, this is a nice plot twist, but of course the letter is ruined with this little addition:

P.S. I enclose you Dr. Johnson's definition of a vampyre, which is as follows:
"VAMPYRE (a German blood-sucker) -- by which you perceive how many vampyres, from time immemorial, must have been well entertained at the expense of John Bull, at the court of St. James, where nothing hardly is to be met with but German blood-suckers."

IN CASE YOU DON'T KNOW WHAT A VAMPIRE IS... I mean, really. That bugged me a lot.

So, Crinkles arrives and denies sending the letter, everyone swears a bit more (censored carefully for the Victorian sensibilities), and the admiral decides to find Charles and ask him what's up. Despite the nice bit in the beginning, it just ends up being another chapter that's too long for the amount of plot that actually happens in it.

Chapter 16: In Which Charles and Flora Tempt Fate

Digression: French Vampires

2010-01-20T20:46:00.000-06:00

I don't have the level of concentration needed to write up a real post today, so I'll pose a short question: what is up with French vampires?

Is it just a matter of a simple equation: vampires=sexy, French=sexy, therefore French vampires=sexy²?

Is it Anne Rice's influence?

I mean, Dracula was Eastern European, which makes sense since that's where most of the popular vampire myths come from. The earliest two fictional vampires--Varney and Lord Ruthven from "The Vampyre"--are English. I can think of some modern English vampires--the ones in Buffy immediately come to mind--but most of the literature seems inundated with French Jean-Claudes and Luciens and DeNoirs (really? you couldn't come up with anything more obviously symbolic?). Even in Forever Knight, where one of the vampires was an ancient Roman, he was effectively French (spoke French, had a French name, etc.).

Just has me wondering why it's so much of a cliche.

Chapter 14: In Which Henry Makes an Offer

2010-01-13T20:49:00.001-06:00

(Man, if only I didn't suck at posting so much.)

Previously in Varney the Vampire: Varney makes his first appearance. In the thirteenth f***ing chapter.

We begin where we petered off last chapter, with the servant bringing food and wine:

On the tray which the servant brought into the room, were refreshments of different kinds, including wine, and after waving his hand for the domestic to retire, Sir Francis Varney said, --

"You will be better, Mr. Bannerworth, for a glass of wine after your walk, and you too, sir. I am ashamed to say, I have quite forgotten your name."

"Marchdale."

"Mr. Marchdale. Ay, Marchdale. Pray, sir, help yourself."

"You take nothing yourself?" said Henry.

"I am under a strict regimen," replied Varney. "The simplest diet alone does for me, and I have accustomed myself to long abstinence."

"He will not eat or drink," muttered Henry, abstractedly.

"Will you sell me the Hall?" said Sir Francis Varney.

I must admit that I rather like this opening. JMR doesn't tend to combine his passages of tedious description with his long stretches of awkward dialogue, so on the rare occasions when the dialogue isn't awkward you wind up with a style that's wonderfully sparse. The dialogue is allowed to speak for itself, and it provides a better picture of the characters than anything else in this story.

Anyway, Henry refuses the drink and makes Varney an offer: he will give him the house if Varney stays away from the family. Varney toys with him, of course, and it's delightful:

"How very unkind. I understand you have a charming sister, young, beautiful, and accomplished. Shall I confess, now, that I had hopes of making myself agreeable to her?"...

"I can only say, that if I am master of [the house], I shall be very happy to see any of the family on a visit at any time."

Varney agrees to think over Henry's offer, and Henry gets out of there as fast as he can. He decides that he must kill Varney, now that he knows he's the vampire, but Marchdale reminds him that vampires are made when a vampire sucks a human's blood. "Have you forgotten Flora?"he asks. "God of Heaven!" says Henry, "I had forgotten her!"

That explains a lot, actually.

Then there's a bit of overdramatic dialogue as Henry resolves to take care of his family. It's quite a short chapter, and, unlike with the early ones, I find myself wishing it were longer.

Good God, JMR, what have you done to me?

Chapter 15: In Which More Soap Operatic Elements are Introduced

Chapter 13: In Which We Finally Meet the Title Character

2010-01-06T22:30:00.002-06:00

(Sorry for the hiatus [hiatuses?]. The crazy is winding down somewhat [now I have jinxed myself by typing that!]. I can't handle posting every day, but when I skip days I forget easily, so for now the planned update schedule is Wednesday~~, Friday~~ and Sunday. Feel free to poke me if I miss a day.)

Previously in Varney the Vampire: Charles is generally awesome; the dialogue, not so much.

In Chapter 13 (THE OFFER FOR THE HALL. -- THE VISIT TO SIR FRANCIS VARNEY. -- THE STRANGE RESEMBLANCE. -- A DREADFUL SUGGESTION.), it seems that, after all of the teasing, we will finally meet Sir Francis Varney. But first we have to get through some awkward exposition about how the men search the garden for the elusive vampire. They find blood from when Flora shot him, but fail to uncover a trail; it's as if the vampire disappeared (or, perhaps, suddenly stopped bleeding).

Here we are treated to some of the most awful sentences, even in context:

Flora, with the exception of the alarm she experienced from the firing of the pistol, had met with no disturbance, and that, in order to spare her painful reflections, they told her was merely done as a precautionary measure, to proclaim to any one who might be lurking in the garden that the inmates of the house were ready to defend themselves against any aggression.

Whether or not she believed this kind deceit they knew not. She only sighed deeply, and wept. The probability is, that she more than suspected the vampyre had made another visit, but they forbore to press the point; and, leaving her with her mother, Henry and George went from her chamber again -- the former to endeavour to seek some repose, as it would be his turn to watch on the succeeding night, and the latter to resume his station in a small room close to Flora's chamber, where it had been agreed watch and ward should be kept by turns while the alarm lasted.

You get the idea. Flora, despite her general awesomeness and unexpected strength (for a female character in this kind of literature), must be kept in the dark about the thing that is hunting after her.

The next lines are too perfectly melodramatic not to share:

At length, the morning again dawned upon that unhappy family, and to none were its beams more welcome.

The birds sang their pleasant carols beneath the window. The sweet, deep-coloured autumnal sun shone upon all objects with a golden lustre; and to look abroad, upon the beaming face of nature, no one could for a moment suppose, except from sad experience, that there were such things as gloom, misery, and crime, upon the earth.

Henry mopes for a bit, then receives a letter in which Sir Francis Varney offers to buy the family home. Thinking that the vampire might be connected to the house, rather than to Flora, he finds the offer agreeable. He talks it over with Marchdale, who suggests that Varney be offered the home on a one-year trial period. That way, if the vampire attacked Varney or if it followed the Bannerworths, they would have a potential way to fix the problem.

Of course, their dialogue doesn't treat the vampire as the family's problem or Flora's problem, but Henry's problem. The vampire might follow Henry, Marchdale says, as if the vampire has made any notice of Henry at all in the previous pages. Henry then gets upset at Flora for not saying she wanted to leave sooner. Sigh.

Speaking of Flora, she and Charles are beginning to work things out:

"Dear Flora, you will now surely no longer talk of driving from you the honest heart that loves you?"

"Hush, Charles, hush!" she said; "meet me in an hour hence in the garden, and we will talk of this."

"That hour will seem an age," he said.

The dialogue is as overwrought as ever, of course, but here it makes me smile rather than groan.

At any rate, the family agrees to the deal, so Henry and Marchdale go to speak with Sir Francis Varney, and they are met with this surprise:

A cry of surprise, mingled with terror, came from Henry Bannerworth's lip. The original of the portrait on the panel stood before him! There was the lofty stature, the long, sallow face, the slightly projecting teeth, the dark, lustrous, although somewhat sombre eyes; the expression of the features -- all were alike.

Man, I never saw that coming.

Henry, knowing not to arouse the potential vampire's suspicions, hides his shock and conducts the deal as quickly and professionally as possible. No, wait, I lied. Actually he flips the f*** out and pretty much tells Varney that he suspects him of being a vampire. The Idiot Plot strikes again!

Really, the only redeeming part of this scene is Varney, who keeps his cool wonderfully. He gets mostly short lines, unlike the sprawling and unrealistic dialogue with which most of the other characters are cursed. (Althoug he's the title character, so I'm sure he'll get plenty of it later on.) You can just hear the smugness in his voice:

"Are you unwell, sir?" said Sir Francis Varney, in soft, mellow accents, as he handed a chair to the bewildered Henry.

The scene peters off instead of building suspense for the next chapter. Let me ruin the suspense even more for you: Henry's actions have no effect whatsoever on the coming events. (Just a prediction.)

Chapter 14: In Which Henry Makes an Offer

Coming soon

2010-01-04T21:40:00.001-06:00

My New Year's resolution is not to neglect this blog for weeks at a time anymore... New post coming in the next day or so!

Chapter 12: In Which Charles Remains the Blogger's Favorite Character

2009-12-07T00:46:00.002-06:00

Previously in Varney the Vampire: Charles resolves to protect Flora, even if it is a vampire.

In Chapter 12 (CHARLES HOLLAND'S SAD FEELINGS. -- THE PORTRAIT. -- THE OCCURRENCE OF THE NIGHT AT THE HALL.), JMR continues to explore Charles' feelings and develop his character, which continues to be the most consistent and interesting one so far. He paces a bit, worrying about Flora; despite his love for her and his initial doubt regarding vampires, there's a real risk that she'll become a vampire herself.

Within the context of the overdramatic writing style, this scene very emotive, just like the previous chapter. I'm reminded again of the scene where Henry watches over Flora after her attack, one of the few places where JMR seems to get things right. Since Charles arrived he's been getting it right more than not, so there's one more point int Charles' favor.

Of course, every chapter has its share of ridiculousness. Charles sees the portrait of ~~Runnagate~~ Marmaduke Bannerworth and is immediately creeped out. More importantly, he notices that the portrait has been moved recently--I actually love this part about the passage, since there's more substance than "Charles is creeped out because [the readers know that] the man in the portrait is a vampire."

There is this hideously, inexplicably long passage, however, where he explores the portrait:

"Who knows," he said to himself, "what may be behind it? This is an old baronial sort of hall, and the greater portion of it was, no doubt, built at a time when the construction of such places as hidden chambers and intricate staircases were, in all buildings of importance, considered desiderata."

He hears a knock (excuse me, a "demand for admission"; why use five letters when you can use eighteen?) and opens the door, but there seems to be no one there. He hears it again, opens the door, and is greeted by strange noises in the hallway. Then he finds Henry, who heard a door open, and they investigate the mysterious painting together to see what lies behind it.

They find nothing, and, in classic JMR fashion, the resulting dialogue breaks any semblance of suspense that the scene previously held:

"There is no mystery here," said Henry.

"None whatever," said Charles, as he tapped the wall with his knuckles, and found all hard and sound. "We are foiled."

"We are indeed."

"I had a strange presentiment, now," added Charles, "that we should make some discovery that would repay us for our trouble. It appears, however, that such is not to be the case; for you see nothing presents itself to us but the most ordinary appearances."

"I perceive as much; and the panel itself, although of more than ordinary thickness, is, after all, but a bit of planed oak, and apparently fashioned for no other object than to paint the portrait on."

The painting is forgotten, however, when they see the vampire in the window. Charles shoots at it, but it gets away. Marchdale advises Charles to leave, warning that Flora could become a vampire. Marchdale resolves to leave, but Charles refuses, saying that "she [Flora], and she only, can break asunder the tie that binds me to her." We'll see more of them together, but not for a few chapters.

Chapter 13: In Which We Finally Meet the Title Character

Chapter 11: In Which the Blogger Returns After a Long Hiatus

2009-12-06T00:20:00.002-06:00

Previously in Varney the Vampire: My posts were a lot closer together. Also, Flora's fiancé has arrived.

Chapter 11 (THE COMMUNICATION TO THE LOVER.--THE HEART'S DESPAIR.) starts off with a sentence worthy of the Bulwer-Lytton Fiction Contest:

Consternation is sympathetic, and any one who had looked upon the features of Charles Holland, now that he was seated with Henry Bannerworth, in expectation of a communication which his fears told him was to blast all the dearest and most fondly cherished hopes for ever, would scarcely have recognised in him the same young man who, one short hour before, had knocked so loudly, and so full of joyful hope and expectation, at the door of the hall.

Then Henry asks Charles if he knows anything about vampires. As I've ranted about time and again, the real weakness of the story, at least in these first few chapters, is the constant vacillation between "it's a vampire" and "it can't possibly be a vampire." Not that it would be a terribly convincing story if they believed that it was a vampire right from the start, without a doubt; but by the point in the story where they open the tomb, they should have enough evidence that they're not still arguing that it couldn't be a vampire and patting themselves on the back for being so logical and rational. In any decent horror story these characters are the ones killed first, or at least in the most brutal, I-told-you-so sorts of ways.

The point here is that this scene between Henry and Charles has exactly the right dynamic between doubt and belief, one that has been sorely missed in the story so far. The introduction of a new character, one who hasn't witnessed the previous events, helps a lot. Henry is convinced that it was a vampire that attacked Flora, and tells Charles to flee and protect himself. Charles doesn't want to believe it, but pledges his love and his protection to Flora against whatever evil there might be.

In response to Charles' devotion,

Henry could not speak for emotion for several minutes, and when at length, in a faltering voice, he could utter some words, he said, --
"God of heaven, what happiness is marred by these horrible events? What have we all done to be the victims of such a dreadful act of vengeance?"

I love this passage, for all its usual cliché and overdone dialogue, because it begins to get to the heart of the story's human element: why is this happening to these characters? One can forgive the author, due to the story's format, for not addressing this question earlier; but it's an important one to address now.

Though he isn't certain that it's a vampire, Charles, fueled by youthful impulsiveness and the Power of Love, resolves to catch the vampire. And, unlike the other men, he notes the importance of a night watch plan which doesn't involve Flora being left alone with her elderly mother and a gun. He's probably the smartest male character so far; I can't judge whether he's the most consistent until we've seen him in a few more chapters.

Chapter 12: In Which Charles Remains the Blogger's Favorite Character

Chapter 10: In Which Flora Didn't Kill the Vampire Because It's a F***ing Vampire

2009-11-17T20:48:00.003-06:00

Man, it's been a long time since I posted. Sorry about that. I blame my husband for introducing me to Diablo.

Previously in Varney the Vampire: The vampire returns. Flora shoots him and then runs away, but is caught by some unidentified person. Could it be the vampire?

Don't worry; it's just her fiancé, Charles! You know, the one we met in Chapter 6? Bet you didn't see that coming. And by "that," I mean JMR remembering a character's name from three chapters ago.

So, the boys are shocked to return from their little ~~there's no such thing as a~~ vampire hunting adventure to discover that the vampire has attacked again. Man, there's no way anyone could have seen that coming.

Such a strange scene as that small room now exhibited had never been equalled in Bannerworth Hall. There was young Mr. Holland, of whom mention has already been made, as the affianced lover of Flora, supporting her fainting form. There was Henry doing equal service to his mother; and on the floor lay the two pistols, and one of the candles which had been upset in the confusion: while the terrified attitudes of George and Mr. Marchdale at the window completed the strange-looking picture.

Flora awakes and, upon recognizing Charles:

She burst into a hysterical flood of tears, and clung to him like some terrified child to its only friend in the whole wide world.
"Oh, my dear friends," cried Charles Holland, "do not deceive me; has Flora been ill?"
"We have all been ill," said George.

This exchange, like so many in Varney the Vampire, is bizarre on several levels. First, I must note that JMR manages to give Flora realistic emotional reactions and very human characteristics here (although he does slip into bathos), something which has only shown up at a few points in the story so far. (The one that sticks in my mind is the scene where Henry stays up guarding Flora at the end of Chapter 4.)

But then Charles's reaction—to be fair, at this point he has no idea what is going on, and his confusion is one of the few things that JMR almost gets right in the dialogue—Charles's reaction is to ignore Flora's unspoken cry for support and to ask The Boys what's wrong with her, rather than talking to her?

And then George's reaction is to pull attention away from Flora—you know, the one who actually got attacked by a vampire—and make it All About the Boys, like so much of the rest of the story is already?

As with the last post, I find it difficult to pick stuff like this apart too much. Sometimes it's hard to tell what's the bad writing, what's a product of the time and what's just plain sexism.

Anyway, the prize for the stupidest line of dialogue in the chapter goes to Marchdale:

"You -- you hit it with the bullet?" interposed Mr. Marchdale. "Perhaps you killed it?"

Yes, Marchdale, she killed it. That's why it got up and left after Henry shot it in the garden. And why it got up and left when you shot it in the light of the full moon. And why it wasn't in its coffin.

IT'S A F***ING VAMPIRE AND YOU SHOULD BE ABLE TO ACCEPT THAT BY F***ING CHAPTER 10!

Anyway, Charles is still confused, not in the least because Flora is now raving about how they have to break up because she's been cursed by the vampire's visit, so Henry takes Charles away to explain everything to him. I rather like him so far; like Flora, he seems more human than the other characters. Perhaps he can inject some sanity in the situation.
(By the way: I automatically read/write chapter titles and previous chapter recaps in the voice of Yami from Yu-Gi-Oh: The Abridged Series. Maybe that's just me.)
Chapter 11: In Which the Blogger Returns after a Long Hiatus

Chapter 9: In Which Flora is Badass (But JMR Kind of Screws It Up)

2009-11-10T22:34:00.003-06:00

Previously in Varney the Vampire: ~~The tomb is empty! Jesus has risen!~~ Just kidding, it's only Varney.

Back in Chapter 7, Henry and The Boys left Flora to defend herself while they tried to convince themselves that vampires can't really exist. Now in Chapter 9 (THE OCCURRENCES OF THE NIGHT AT THE HALL. -- THE SECOND APPEARANCE OF THE VAMPYRE, AND THE PISTOL-SHOT), we get to see Flora put her badassery to use.

Kind of. As Curt Herr points out in his annotated edition of Varney the Vampire, the fact that Flora has any agency at all is unusual in these kinds of stories--and even in the context of this story, where it's clear that everything is about the men around Flora, who make decisions for her and try to keep things from her, the men's confidence in her ability to defend herself is quite surprising. So it's good to see a female character who can be badass, even if she isn't all the time.

The problem is that the passage reads thus:

It stood for a moment gazing at her, and then in the hideous way it had attempted before to speak, it apparently endeavoured to utter some words which it could not make articulate to human ears. The pistols lay before Flora. Mechanically she raised one, and pointed it at the figure. It advanced a step, and then she pulled the trigger.
A stunning report followed. There was a loud cry of pain, and the vampyre fled. The smoke and confusion that was incidental to the spot prevented her from seeing if the figure walked or ran away. She thought he heard a crashing sound among the plants outside the window, as if it had fallen, but she did not feel quite sure.
It was no effort of any reflection, but a purely mechanical movement, that made her raise the other pistol, and discharge that likewise in the direction the vampyre had taken. Then casting the weapon away, she rose, and made a frantic rush from the room.

Although it strikes me as odd that someone who is (or at least is supposed to be) excessively passive and feminine would know how to shoot well enough to do it "mechanically," as if on instinct, twice, that's what we have. Flora's bravery and ability to defend herself is consciously de-emphasized.

At the same time, this is the only chapter so far that I found genuinely suspenseful. It was short enough to hook the reader without growing dull, it didn't include long passages of meaningless description or stilted dialogue, the attack on Flora has a real sense of danger, and it ends with Flora, in her effort to escape, running into the arms of what might be the vampire himself. Maybe I've lowered my standards, but I rather enjoyed it.

Chapter 10: In Which Flora Didn't Kill the Vampire Because It's a F***ing Vampire

Break: How Varney the Vampire Made Me Get a Credit Card

2009-11-08T13:39:00.001-06:00

Money's been tight lately for me, as it has been for a lot of people in this economy. But there are some books I absolutely have to buy, despite my usual policy of never buying books unless they're used and/or on sale.* Curt Herr's critical edition of Varney the Vampire was one of those books, leading me to break my other book-buying policy: never buy anything you could get for free, legally, online.

I have never had a credit card (aside from debit/credit cards, which aren't really the same because the money is already in your account). I've always been kind of scared by the prospect of dealing with invisible money that I need to remember to pay back. But I like buying books from Amazon, and whenever I check out they always have that ad: apply for the Amazon.com credit card and get $30 off your purchase!

Varney the Vampire was $30, so I figured, okay, I'll bite. So now I have a credit card and a (nearly) free copy of Varney the Vampire. And to be completely honest, the book is worth the $30 (if I had it) just for the supplementary material, including an introduction by Curt Herr and several more essays on Varney the Vampire and the culture of penny dreadfuls. (Did you know, for example, that James Malcolm Rymer was writing ten different serials when he was putting out Varney the Vampire? With that in mind, I'm actually impresed by the lack of more continuity errors. I write several thousand words a day, but I don't try to keep a coherent plot--or even an incoherent plot--around it.)

Anyhow, I wrote a full review of the annotated Varney the Vampire, and plan to include some more interesting and accurate background information in my analysis of future chapters.

* I want to support fellow writers by buying new books; I really do. But when I remember how a simple paperback used to be $3.50 or $4 when I was growing up and now it's $8 (and let's not even speak of hardcovers), it just makes me feel old as well as poor.

Chapter 8: In Which (Spoiler Warning!) the Tomb is Empty

2009-11-06T18:11:00.004-06:00

Previously in Varney the Vampire: Flora is badass, but her brothers are stupid.

In a comment to the post on Chapter 7, Zahir Blue made the point that the nighttime visit to the supposed vampire's tomb has two purposes. First, they don't want anyone to know they're breaking in. This is a fairly reasonable explanation, one which becomes more clear later in Chapter 7; if this is their main concern, however, "We should go at night because it's dark anyway" should never have come up, except to bolster Mr. Rymer's word count.

The other reason will, I hope, be made clear in the next few chapters—it was necessary to make a future plot point possible. Rather than excusing the fact that they're visiting a vampire's lair at night, this piece of information confounds the problem. Writers, take note: if the most compelling reason for anything happening in a story is "because the plot requires it," you've got some serious editing to do.

But enough of Chapter 7; we're on to Chapter 8 (THE COFFIN. -- THE ABSENCE OF THE DEAD. -- THE MYSTERIOUS CIRCUMSTANCE, AND THE CONSTERNATION OF GEORGE.). Normally I hate it when the chapter titles give away everything, but in Varney the Vampire whether or not the chapter titles actually correspond to events in the chapter is kind of a crapshoot. (Also, we already knew the coffin would be empty. And so would they, if they stopped being idiots.)

So, they stand around in the vault for a while being curious until Henry says:

"This is a time for action, George," he said, "and not for romantic thought. Let us proceed."

If only he could do that every time.

So they search around for the coffin, and this line just made me laugh:

Of course, the more recent and fresh-looking coffins they did not examine, because they could not have anything to do with the object of that melancholy visit.

They eventually find the right coffin, except that it's inscribed with "Marmaduke Bannerworth, Yeoman. 1640," not Runnagate Bannerworth, as the ancestor is called in Chapter 3. (It's not the worst of the book's continuity errors; according to Wikipedia, the author forgets that George exists after Chapter 36.)

But never mind all that; the point is that the coffin is, predictably, empty. There's a bit more of a dramatic to-do; you can tell by the fact that Chillingworth uses the word "damned" (which is, according to nineteenth-century sensibilities, bleeped out) while insisting that vampires can't exist and there must be a scientific explanation.

They leave, somewhat dejected in the knowledge that they'll have to remove their fingers from their ears and stop humming sooner or later. Henry even starts getting emo on us; when asked if they should replace the broken window, he replies:

"Oh, it matters not -- it matters not," said Henry, listlessly; "nothing matters now. I care not what becomes of me -- am getting weary of a life which now must be one of misery and dread."

Chillingworth reassures Henry that he can stand up against the vampire (which may or may not exist), and then there's this odd bit about religion:

"But, Mr. Chillingworth, I cannot and will not renounce the sublime truths of Scripture. They may be incomprehensible; they may be inconsistent; and some of them may look ridiculous; but still they are sacred and sublime, and I will not renounce them although my reason may not accord with them, because they are the laws of Heaven."

No wonder this powerful argument silenced Mr. Chillingworth, who was one of those characters in society who hold most dreadful opinions, and who would destroy religious beliefs, and all the different sects of the world, if they could, and endeavour to introduce instead some horrible system of human reason and profound philosophy.

But how soon the religious man silences his opponent; and let it not be supposed that, because his opponent says no more upon the subject, he does so because he is disgusted with the stupidity of the other; no, it is because he is completely beaten, and has nothing more to say.

This almost brings me back to the stealth parody theory I mentioned back in Chapter 5 (and by the way, I believe I have found the book after several weeks of searching: The Vampire's Bedside Companion, by Peter Underwood—but I have not received it in the mail yet, so I cannot be certain).

Chapter 9: In Which Flora is Badass (But JMR Kind of Screws It Up)

Chapter 7: In Which the Story Might Be More Suspenseful if Everyone Weren't So Predictably Stupid

2009-11-05T01:45:00.002-06:00

Previously in Varney the Vampire: Exposition, and... yeah, that was pretty much it.

First, I want to say a word of thanks to James Malcolm Rymer for making me laugh again. I was afraid the comically bad writing was gone for good, but Chapter 7 (THE VISIT TO THE VAULT OF THE BANNERWORTHS, AND ITS UNPLEASANT RESULT. -- THE MYSTERY.) is beginning to prove me wrong, if only for its awkward dialogue.

Henry and George wake Flora up, but don't tell her anything about the vampire, because she's a girl and girls are delicate and stuff. (Actually, it probably has more to do with the fact that Flora, being the one who was actually attacked by a vampire, is less invested in the it's-not-a-vampire-if-I-stick-my-fingers-in-my-ears-and-hum-loudly routine that's infected the rest of the characters.)

Henry decides to visit the family vault to make sure their ancestor is Really Dead, not just Mostly Dead. Marchdale arrives and advises them that checking out the vault can do no harm. But here's where they go wrong:

"Why should it not be done secretly and at night? Of course we lose nothing by making a night visit to a vault into which daylight, I presume, cannot penetrate."

There's only one problem with that, says George: they must leave Flora unprotected. ("We do, indeed," said Henry. "I did not think of that.") The solution is just to make sure that Flora feels safe on her own, with just her elderly mother to protect her from the vampire. Nothing can possible go wrong with this plan.

Seriously. Nothing can go wrong! There's absolutely no reason why they should go visit a potential vampire's lair at night, leaving their sister unguarded from the vampire which roams around at night, because it's silly to go in the daytime since it's dark anyway.

This, ladies and gentlemen, is what we call the Idiot Plot. That is, a story which cannot progress properly unless the characters are dumb as rocks for no reason other than to make the readers want to smack them over the head while typing furiously with excessive use of italics.

And there's still ten pages to go in this chapter. God help me.

They discuss how to get into the vault, and decide to ask Chillingworth to come with them, since he's a doctor and can identify the remains. Then they go ask Flora if it's okay for them to go out at night and leave her unprotected, and there's this awesome scene:

"If fire-arms were left you, do you think you would have courage to use them?"

"I do, Henry."

"Then you shall have them; and let me beg of you to shoot any one without the least hesitation who shall come into your chamber."

"I will, Henry. If ever human being was justified in the use of deadly weapons, I am now."

Flora is getting kind of badass, and I approve of this character development wholeheartedly. So do her brothers, apparently, because as they go on their Vampire Hunt of Sheer Stupidity^TM they are suitably impressed by her wish to do violence rather than laying there helplessly, as most women presumably would.
And so, after some to-do about forgetting matches (luckily Chillingworth always has some on hand), they get into the vault. Then there's some more to-do about matches and the chapter ends on an astoundingly unsuspenseful note:

Mr. Chillingworth lit the wax candle which was now handed to him by Marchdale, and in another moment the vault from one end of it to the other was quite discernible.

This might have worked to create suspense if we were given a clue of what they saw in the vault (or if we weren't already sure that they'd find evidence of the vampire they want so much to believe doesn't exist), but like most of the chapter ends it just fizzles. It's a wonder people kept coming back to read more.

Chapter 8: In Which (Spoiler Warning!) the Tomb is Empty

Chapter 6: In Which the Narrator Returns from His Long Hiatus and Makes Us Miss the Dialogue

2009-11-03T00:29:00.003-06:00

Previously on Varney the Vampire: They chase after the vampire. It heals by moonlight. They spend tedious amounts of time trying to deny that it is a vampire.

Chapter 6 (A GLANCE AT THE BANNERWORTH FAMILY. -- THE PROBABLE CONSEQUENCES OF THE MYSTERIOUS APPARITION'S APPEARANCE.) is short again—only 2770 words, which is a little less than I write in a productive day. The title is not promising, however, and neither is the first paragraph, in which the narrator, having surrendered his long and dull soliloquies to the dialogue for the previous several chapters, returns with a vengeance to tell us all about the Bannerworth family.

The Bannerworths, as was briefly stated by Henry in Chapter 5, are not doing well for money. The family estate has been in dire straits for over a century, since the irresponsible ancestor in the portrait—who, if the plot continues at this rollicking pace, will doubtless be revealed as Varney somewhere around Chapter 47.

Henry's father became ill, and intended to sell the family property. Before his death, he confides in Henry that the money will allow them to "live like princes," but he leaves no clue as to where the money has gone.

Henry, now in charge of the estate, is offered a price far beyond its value by a solicitor on behalf of an unknown client. Against advice, the family refuses the offer, wishing to stay in their house.

The reason given is thus: conveniently, a dead rich relative offers Henry, George, and Flora money to travel in Europe. Also conveniently, a mysterious stranger arrives to save Flora in Italy when her horse slips as they ride up a mountain. His name is Charles Holland; he claims to be an artist, and begins to court Flora. He intends to visit her at their home after a two-year absence, and so Flora, who has (also conveniently) been left with no way to contact him, does not wish to leave for fear that he might miss her.

Mr. Marchdale, a distant relative of Mrs. Bannerworth, arrives on the scene. He is a traveler by nature, with no family of his own, and he settles down to live with the Bannerworths.

Suddenly the author remembers that there's a vampire, and that people are probably reading this chapter to find out more about the vampire and not the boring Bannerworth family. So we are reminded of how the reality of a vampire's existence will change the family—an implicit excuse for the family's repeated refusal to believe in such things.

And so ends the book's dullest chapter so far. Perhaps something will actually happen in the next chapter; but I wouldn't get your hopes up too high.

Chapter 7: In Which the Story Might Be More Suspenseful if Everyone Weren't So Predictably Stupid

Chapter 5: In Which They Still Can't Believe It's a Vampire

2009-10-30T00:25:00.002-05:00

Previously in Varney the Vampire: It was a vampire. Despite Henry's sloppy and misguided attempts to hide it, everyone knows by morning.

Chapter 5 of Varney the Vampire (THE NIGHT WATCH. -- THE PROPOSAL. -- THE MOONLIGHT. -- THE FEARFUL ADVENTURE.) is, mercifully, shorter than Chapter 4, although not by much. It begins with Henry receiving a letter from Sir Francis Varney - the offer of assistance, no doubt, mentioned and forgotten in Chapter 3.

It turns out that Varney has just purchased the neighboring property, Ratford Abbey. He offers his assistance, but Henry decides to politely reject it, since the Bannerworths are poor and cannot afford new acquaintances.

George decides to stay up with Henry and Marchdale to watch Flora. Marchdale produces a Plot Device which ~~the author~~ he forgot to mention after they fought the vampire: a scrap of old-fashioned coat, smelling of the grave, which he pulled from the vampire the night before. As they watch Flora, they note that the coat resembles the one in the painting of the Bannerworth ancestor who resembles the vampire. These are some detectives, here, not in the least because they are still afraid of proving that it might be a vampire.

They hear footsteps and believe that the vampire has come again, but it is only Chillingworth, who has decided to stay in the garden watching for the vampire. He thinks he heard something, so Henry and Marchdale go to investigate, leaving George to guard Flora with his sword.

(I swear, if this were a television series the internet would be innundated with Bannercest fics before the first episode even aired.)

They find the vampire lying under the trees. The full moon heals him and, as usual, they stand around talking about how they should kill him while he's still weak instead of actually managing to do it. The vampire starts to flee, but Marchdale manages to shoot it, and it falls.

They realize that the moonbeams will keep healing it, but they decide to follow it anyway, since they're anything but genre savvy. (Choice "who talks like that?" quote: "It is conscious of being pursued.") It runs into the woods, and they give up the chase at Chillingworth's request.

But they are finally able to connect the dots: the vampire does not just suspiciously resemble their dead ancestor, but is the ancestor, one who committed suicide nearly a hundred years ago. Henry freaks out yet again.
They still spend a large chunk of dialogue denying vampires; says Marchdale: "I saw a man lying down, and then I saw a man get up; he seemed then to be shot, but whether he was or not he only knows; and then I saw him walk off in a desperate hurry. Beyond that, I saw nothing." I understand that this is human nature, but it's so tedious to read. Give me overly purple descriptions of hailstorms any day.

Marchdale and Henry decide - just in case, or something - to check out the ancestor's vault and make sure he's really dead. There's no way this could possibly go wrong.

As a side note, I read once (I can't recall where, but it was a book called something like The Bedside Companion to Vampires) the theory that Varney the Vampire is a stealth parody by an author who was bitter about the popularity of bad stories and so intentionally wrote a terrible story in order to cash in on the craze and have the last laugh.

From the first two chapters, that theory had me convinced; now that the writing has gotten less hilarious, not anymore. Honestly, it just reads like a decent first draft of a halfway-decent book written by an author who didn't have the time or inclination to edit. Forget modern television series; it's more like modern fanfiction.

Chapter 6: In Which the Narrator Returns from His Long Hiatus and Makes Us Miss the Dialogue

Chapter 4: In Which The Author Takes 6,000 Words to Tell Us It Was a Vampire

2009-10-26T22:55:00.002-05:00

Previously in Varney the Vampire: Henry shot the vampire, but it escaped and the body disappeared. They discover two bite marks in Flora's neck and a portrait of an ancestor who looks like Flora's attacker. Henry stays up all night watching her.

Chapter Four of Varney the Vampire (THE MORNING. -- THE CONSULTATION. -- THE FEARFUL SUGGESTION.) is somewhat daunting; at 6,300 words, it's more than twice as long as each of the first three chapters.

Henry Bannerworth, having watched over his sister Flora until daylight, now finds himself frightened by the picture of his ancestor which so much resembles the vampire. He considers destroying it, but finds several justifications for not doing so: it would be too loud and wake Flora; it's too nice a work of art; and finally that Flora will probably find a new room to sleep in, anyway.

Apparently this chapter is long because it includes the second half of what was promised in Chapter 3; that is, "Flora's Recovery and Madness" and "the Offer of Assistance from Sir Francis Varney." Flora wakes and raves madly, still hearing and seeing the vampire. Their mother asks Henry what the creature could have been; Henry replies, "I am lost in a sea of wild conjecture. I can form no conclusion."

He consults Marchdale, who concludes that Flora is mad because her body has been weakened. After a long and tedious insistence that Henry not repeat his theory, Marchdale reveals that the creature was "a vampyre!" (This spelling was interchangeable with "vampire" in the nineteenth century, and in Varney apparently varies between chapters.)

Henry resolves to sit up all night with Flora again, and Marchdale offers to stay with him. George enters, and suggests that Flora's attacker may have been a vampire. He seems kind of slow, but it's refreshing to have someone come right out with the vampire theory without the tedious hand-wringing.

Henry tells George that they can't believe in vampires: "You would tell us that our repudiation of it cannot affect the fact. Of that we are aware; but yet will we disbelieve that which a belief in would be enough to drive us mad." He hopes to protect Flora from their theory, and refuses to let George, whose health is failing, to stay up with him.

Henry realizes that his resolve to keep the vampire theory from Flora may not work, since the servants (who have no qualms about calling these things as they see them) have been spreading rumors about the vampire attack. In an odd passage showing the author's failure at continuity even for events in close proximity, Henry goes to fetch the doctor, thinking about how the story of the vampire is "spreading all over the country." And yet when he encounters a stranger on horseback who says that he's heard the tale, Henry nearly falls over himself in surprise. Perhaps this is intended to be pretend surprise for the sake of the stranger - it's unclear due to the lack of description around the dialogue - but it stuck out at me nonetheless.

Henry visits the doctor, a Mr. Chillingworth, who rejects the vampire theory while simultaneously pointing out its potential to explain the circumstances. He returns home, the doctor promising to visit in two hours, and checks on Flora.
The closest approximation to characterization in the story so far has been Henry's interaction with Flora. The final scene of the previous chapter, where Henry watches over Flora while surrounded by loaded pistols, is actually quite a poignant image. So is the image of Henry leaning over Flora's bedside in this chapter. It's a shame that he's kind of an idiot in the in-between parts.

To Henry's dismay, Flora has arrived at the vampire conclusion all by herself, and tells Henry that the vampire's victims turn into vampires themselves. She has hallucinations flashing back to the attack.

Dr. Chillingworth examines Flora and determines her wounds to be insect bites. To Henry, however, he confesses that they do appear to be bite marks, and that Flora is suffering from either blood loss or narcotic use. His inconsistency of character is dizzying; he's a complete ass to Flora, and rather condescending to Henry in their first encounter, and suddenly he believes everything? It's far too convenient for everyone to believe in vampires this early in the story.

Next comes the painful exposition. Rather than having the characters learn about vampires gradually, or showing Flora reading from the book she mentioned earlier, the author puts his research about vampires in the mouths of Chillingworth and Henry, simply because they happen to be there.

"You have, of course, heard something," said Henry to the doctor, as he was pulling on his gloves, "about vampyres."

"I certainly have, and I understand that in some countries, particularly Norway and Sweden, the superstition is a very common one."

"And in the Levant."

"Yes. The ghouls of the Mahometans are of the same description of beings. All that I have heard of the European vampyre has made it a being which can be killed, but is restored to life again by the rays of a full moon falling on the body."

"Yes. The ghouls of the Mahometans are of the same description of beings. All that I have heard of the European vampyre has made it a being which can be killed, but is restored to life again by the rays of a full moon falling on the body."

The idea that the vampire can be healed by the full moon, by the way, comes from John Polidori's story "The Vampyre," which started the nineteenth-century fictional vampire craze. I kind of wish it had stuck around in modern fiction.

Anyway, Chillingworth points out that it's the full moon, and promises to call the next day. Henry finds the vampire book Flora mentioned, Travels in Norway, and opens the book at random. Here he conveniently finds a note about vampires and the full moon. "Henry let the book drop from his hands with a groan and a shudder," apparently - like the reader - having an intolerance to redundant exposition.

So, no offer of assistance from Francis Varney, although we did get to see some of Flora's "madness." If the rest of the chapters are going to be this painfully long, I might have to break them up into two posts. Frustratingly, the writing has gotten just better enough to still be tedious without being unintentionally funny. Perhaps this is only a fluke.

Chapter 5: In Which They Still Can't Believe It's a Vampire

Chapter 3: In Which Flora Has a Puncture Wound or Two (But Three Is Right Out)

2009-10-24T19:27:00.002-05:00

Previously on Varney the Vampire: It hails. Varney attacks Flora in her room. Her brothers, George and Henry, stand around conversing while Marchdale rushes to her rescue. Varney escapes over the garden wall, but has been shot by Henry.

Chapter 3 of Varney the Vampire is headed thusly: "THE DISAPPEARANCE OF THE BODY. -- FLORA'S RECOVERY AND MADNESS. -- THE OFFER OF ASSISTANCE FROM SIR FRANCIS VARNEY." A promising start - it sounds like a lot of things happen in this chapter.

Of course, it begins with the author promptly forgetting what has happened in the last chapter. If you recall, it ended with Henry, George, and Marchdale nearly letting the vampire escape while they stood around observing how frightning and inhuman it looked, and then with Henry shooting it (and letting us know what happened in his redundant dialogue). This chapter starts with Henry declaring, "He is human!" More than a bit confusing, but let's move on.

They run outside the garden to find the body where it fell, but find nothing. After telling each other that they see nothing, they suddenly remember their sister: "For God's sake," says George, "let us return to ascertain if poor Flora is killed." There's as little urgency in this and the following lines, of course, as there is in the rest of the story.

Thankfully, the conflict resolves quickly: they return home and learn that she is alive. The mother, who hasn't been given a name as of yet, begs Marchdale to explain things to her. He seemed from the outset, when he jumped into the scene with his no-really-it's-not-a-toy-let-me-reassure-you-that-it's-real gun, to be the fearless vampire hunter type, but perhaps the author had at this point decided to go in a different direction; after all, if you start off with a confrontation between the vampire and the fearless vampire hunter, it's hard to make your story last for two hundred chapters. And so Marchdale says, "in a tone of much emotion," that he's as confused as anyone.

Flora, who has fainted, is revived. She describes the fearful attack, and they "all saw on the side of Flora's neck a small punctured wound; or, rather two, for there was one a little distance from the other." (You understand why I'm compelled to quote so much?) She says she doesn't know how the wounds got there, and falls back to sleep.

Henry and George notice a portrait of their ancestor, Sir Runnagate Bannerworth, who looks suspiciously like their night visitor. He lived about ninety years previously, and squandered the family money. They resolve to move the portrait so it doesn't upset Flora, but seem to forget about it. Flora sleeps soundly, and Henry, surrounded by loaded pistols, watches over Flora until daylight.

And so it turns out that the chapter heading is a lie, as the only thing that actually happened in the chapter was the disappearance of the body (unless "Flora's Recovery and Madness" can be rightfully said to encompass her waking up, feeling faint from blood loss, and going to sleep again). Perhaps we'll hear about "The Offer of Assistance from Sir Varney" in the next chapter.

Chapter 4: In Which The Author Takes 6,000 Words to Tell Us It Was a Vampire

Chapter 2: In Which the Narrator's Job is Taken Over by Stilted Dialogue

2009-10-24T01:46:00.002-05:00

The second chapter of Varney the Vampire ("THE ALARM. -- THE PISTOL SHOT. -- THE PURSUIT AND ITS CONSEQUENCES.") begins with dialogue, which would be a relief in the midst of endlessly, needlessly descriptive paragraphs if it weren't so awkward and stilted. The other inhabitants of the house (later revealed as the young woman's brothers, George and Henry) get up and, instead of rushing to the aid of the vampire's victim, dawdle about asking each other if they really heard a scream or if it is possible they may have dreamed it.

They hear screams again, and "the elderly lady, whom one of the young men had called mother" faints. We learn that the young woman is named Flora, and they finally (a page or so into the chapter) go to help her. They stand outside her door, whereupon they describe the noises of the vampire feeding, the narrator having temporarily lost his ability to perform this role:

"I hear a strange noise within"... said the young man, who trembled violently.

"And so do I. What does it sound like?"

"I scarcely know; but it closest resembles some animal eating, or sucking some liquid."

One must, of course, allow for the differences in culture and time period when considering the realism of fictional dialogue, but if people actually spoke like this during the Victorian period I will eat my hat. Not to mention the fact that it completely eliminates any sense of danger and suspense. If the characters, who can stand around calmly narrating the situation for the readers' benefit, don't seem to feel any sense of urgency or danger, then how should the reader?

They attempt to force Flora's door open, still commenting on the horrid noise. A stranger, Marchdale, appears with a crowbar and pries open the door. The vampire flees, but not before they catch a glimpse of it. Here the description actually manages to give a sense of fear and the vampire's horrid appearance without making the reader laugh: "They saw that the lower part of it and the lips were dabbled in blood. They saw, too, one of those fearful-looking, shining, metallic eyes which presented so terrible an appearance of unearthly ferocity."

Marchdale reassures Henry, who has been knocked over by the force of the vampire's movement, and fires at the vampire. The narrator, in the story's most hilarious quote so far, reassures us that the gun is in fact real: "The report was tremendous in that chamber, for the pistol was no toy weapon, but one made for actual service, and of sufficient length and bore of barrel to carry destruction along with the bullets that came from it." I'm trying not to put too many quotes in this summary, but it's really hard not to share what I'm going through.

Anyway, the vampire appears, red-faced from drinking blood. This is a more traditional aspect of vampire lore, which comes from the fact that bodies, as they decompose, will often become red and bloated. The handsome, pale vampire comes later in its literary history. The vampire howls and escapes. Marchdale chases after it, followed by George and Henry.

In a strangely comical scene, the vampire makes multiple attempts to leap over the garden wall, falling each time, as its pursuers stand there watching it. They state the obvious: it's not human. They talk instead of acting again, this time figuring out whether (and how) to catch the vampire. By the time they figure it out, the vampire is at the top of the garden wall and has nearly escaped. Henry shoots the vampire, which falls to the ground outside the garden. "I have shot him," Henry informs the characters and the readers - twice - in case anyone has missed it.

It's still a slow beginning, but I hold hope that it will become more exciting once Varney, the father of the modern sympathetic vampire, is introduced as more than a mysterious attacker.

Chapter 1: In Which It Hails and Not Much Else - Chapter 3: In Which Flora Has a Puncture Wound or Two (But Three Is Right Out)

Chapter 1: In Which It Hails and Not Much Else

2009-10-23T22:25:00.002-05:00

The header of Varney the Vampire's first chapter reads: "MIDNIGHT. -- THE HAIL-STORM. -- THE DREADFUL VISITOR. -- THE VAMPYRE." The author's intention in listing these four things separately is presumably to trick the reader into believing that more than one thing happens in this chapter. This would be a lie. Rymer is paid by the word, so he takes nearly 2,500 of them to introduce the title character.

He begins with an introduction some six paragraphs long, the sole point of which is to say that it is midnight and hailing; but why settle for "it was a dark and stormy night" when you can get paid for fifty times that number of words? And so the first two parts of the chapter header are already fulfilled with over 2,000 words left to go, which does not bode well for the reader. It ends with the choice quote, "Oh, how the storm raged! Hail -- rain -- wind. It was, in very truth, an awful night." Perfect, of course, for vampires.

The chapter goes on to describe an old house where a young woman lies sleeping. The omniscient narrator continues to talk to himself. "Was that lightning? Yes -- an awful, vivid, terrifying flash... Who sleeps now in that ancient city?" With a bit of dramatic reading it starts to sound like a performance of The Rocky Horror Picture Show.

The woman awakes and speaks to herself in an exceedingly realistic way: "What -- what was it?" she gasped; "real or delusion?... A figure tall and gaunt, endeavouring from the outside to unclasp the window." The narrator, who obviously doesn't deign to answer anybody's questions but his own, goes on to describe the hail for the tenth or twelfth time so far.

Finally, we are introduced to the vampire, "the tall gaunt figure in hideous relief against the long window." He enters her room; she cries for help ("Help -- help -- help -- help!," rather, since that's four times as many words), but he hypnotizes her with his gaze. This is an important point in the novel already: Rymer is responsible for introducing hypnotic powers to the fictional vampire, a trait which has appeared in many subsequent stories, including Bram Stoker's Dracula.

The vampire grabs her and bites her neck with his fangs - another invention of Rymer which has become standard in vampire stories. The young woman faints, and Varney drinks her blood with "a hideous sucking noise."

Introduction - Chapter 2

Introduction

2009-10-23T22:17:00.003-05:00

Varney the Vampire was published serially by James Malcolm Rymer (long-attributed to Thomas Preskett Prest instead) between 1845 and 1847. It lasts for over 200 chapters, "somewhat longer," Bleiler warns in The Penguin Encyclopedia of Horror and the Supernatural, "than War and Peace and Gone with the Wind combined." Its problems are those of most Victorian serial fiction (and, to be fair, most modern television series): it became very popular, and so the writer - who was paid by the word to begin with - stretched it to unbelievably epic proportions in order to make money, often discarding continuity in the process.

It is not a very good read, but it is an important one, for it contributed many aspects (primarily the idea of the sympathetic vampire) to modern vampire lore. The excitement increases and tedium decreases enormously if it is taken as it was published, one chapter at a time - and these chapters treated individually, again, like the modern television series. (I won't lie to you, though - it's still awful.)

And so I present - from a combination of my own curiosity and the need to sacrifice my own sanity so you don't have to - a detailed summary and commentary on James Malcolm Rymer's Varney the Vampire, one chapter at a time. This may take a few months to finish, but I'm reasonably sure that it will be worth it.

In the mean time, read more about Varney the Vampire and other early vampire fiction, or start reading Varney the Vampire yourself for free online!

Chapter 1

Varney the Vampire

Chapter 63: In Which the Sound of Footsteps is "Dab, Dab, Dab"

Digression: The Vampire: His Kith and Kin by Montague Summers

Chapter 62: In Which There is a Surprising Reveal (Other Than the Fact That The Blogger Updated)

Chapter 61: In Which the Blogger Is Reminded of Why She Keeps Reading and Why She Wants to Stop, All in the Same Chapter

Chapter 60: In Which Another (More Bizarre) Duel is Proposed

Chapter 59: In Which There Was Never Such a Stupid; The Admiral Said So Himself

Chapter 58: In Which The Book Can't Get Any Awesomer Than This

Sponsored Post: Vampire Store

In Which the Blogger Calls Attention to Her Entirely Predictable Absence

Chapter 57: In Which I Suddenly Enjoy Waiting for the Vampire

Digression: The Vampyre Site

Chapter 56: In Which the Bannerworths Finally Leave

Chapter 55: In Which the Mob Stumbles Around in the Dark Because It's Funny, I Guess

Chapter 54: In Which Varney Obviously Isn't Dead -- He's the Title Character

Chapter 53: In Which The Military Suddenly Doesn't Care About the Mob

Chapter 52: In Which Varney Makes a Cameo

Chapter 51: In Which Conveniently, No One Gets Hurt

Chapter 50: In Which JMR is a Chapter Behind

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Digression: Vampire Story vs. Story with Vampires

Chapter 49: In Which the Mob is Easily Captured (Except for the Ones Who Escape)

Sponsored Post: Vampire Empire

Chapter 48: In Which a Vampire Finally Gets Staked (Maybe)

Chapter 47: In Which We Encounter an Odd Combination of Fiction and Folklore

Digression: Vampire Reviews

Chapter 46: In Which the Bannerworths Decide to Move (Again)

Digression: Posting Schedule

Chapter 45: In Which the Mob is My New Favorite Character

Digression: I Suck Again

Digression: The Vampyre

Chapter 44: In Which There Are No Chapters 41 through 43

Digression: A Funny Video & My Reading List

Digression: Vampire Mob

Chapter 40: In Which the Mob is Generally Useless

Chapter 39: In Which the Duel Goes Awry

Chapter 38: In Which the Duel Subplot Becomes Even More Contrived

Digression: What Makes a Good Vampire, Part 2

Digression: What Makes a Good Vampire, Part 1.5: Blood

Digression: What Makes a Good Vampire, Part 1

Chapter 37: In Which JMR Fails at Dramatic Irony

Digression: Why I Don't Read Ahead

Chapter 36: In Which the Admiral is Clearly Rubbing Off on Flora

Chapter 35: In Which the Admiral's Awesomeness Overshadows Everything Again

Chapter 34: In Which Varney is Adept at Blame Shifting

Chapter 33: In Which Varney's Sympathetic Nature Comes to Light

Chapter 32: In Which Varney's Fear Makes Him Look Silly, Not Human

Chapter 31: In Which JMR Isn't Even Trying

Chapter 30: In Which the Blogger Observes a Pattern

Digression: In Which the Blogger, Having Threatened Fanfic, Makes Good on Her Promise

Digression: Regarding Twilight and Sparkly Vampires

Chapter 29: In Which a Digression is Actually Welcomed

Chapter 28: In Which Our Heroes Begin Their Search

Chapter 27: In Which the Contrived Obstacle is Conveniently Resolved

Chapter 26: In Which Charles Is Kind Of a Dick (Or So We Think)

Chapter 25: In Which the Admiral Tells a Story

Chapter 24: In Which Charles Prepares to Meet His Doom

Chapter 23: In Which a Duel is Arranged

Digression: Regarding Sexy Vampires

Chapter 22: In Which a Convenient Obstacle Appears

Chapter 21: In Which Varney Clearly Should Have Been a Comedy

Chapter 20: In Which Varney Makes a More Threatening Offer than Last Time

Chapter 19: In Which JMR Writes His Own Digressions

Chapter 18: In Which the Admiral Becomes the Most Interesting Character in the Book

Chapter 17: In Which Varney Never Drinks... Vine

Chapter 16: In Which Charles and Flora Tempt Fate

Digression: I Shall Return

Digression: Star Wars

Chapter 15: In Which More Soap Operatic Elements are Introduced

Digression: French Vampires

Chapter 14: In Which Henry Makes an Offer

Chapter 13: In Which We Finally Meet the Title Character

Coming soon

Chapter 12: In Which Charles Remains the Blogger's Favorite Character

Chapter 11: In Which the Blogger Returns After a Long Hiatus

Chapter 10: In Which Flora Didn't Kill the Vampire Because It's a F***ing Vampire

Chapter 9: In Which Flora is Badass (But JMR Kind of Screws It Up)

Break: How Varney the Vampire Made Me Get a Credit Card

Chapter 8: In Which (Spoiler Warning!) the Tomb is Empty

Chapter 7: In Which the Story Might Be More Suspenseful if Everyone Weren't So Predictably Stupid