"Dracula" by Bram Stoker: On rare occasions, a literary creation reaches such dizzying heights of popularity that it transcends the page, becoming a cultural icon and a fixture in society's shared consciousness. It's impossible to hear the word "vampire" without thinking of Count Dracula, whose cursed name spawns spooky imagery of gothic castles, fluttering bats, and borrowed blood. Dracula has become synonymous with Halloween and has inspired innumerable movies and television shows, making the finer points of the vampire myth all but common knowledge. But how many of us have ever bothered to read the original source material?
Much like Mary Shelley's "Frankenstein," which has been pillaged and watered-down through time, Bram Stoker's "Dracula" is also far superior to any of its subsequent versions. The book opens with the journal entries of Jonathan Harker, a young London solicitor traveling to Transylvania to finalize the details of a real estate purchase for one Count Dracula. The journey to Castle Dracula is long and arduous. Along the way, Harker encounters many Hungarian peasants who react with horror when discovering his destination. While the language difference doesn't allow him to fully comprehend their fears, he's given a small crucifix to guard against evil. That's never a good sign. Reminds me of a few blind dates I've had.
Harker's traveling caravan eventually meets up with a ominous-looking carriage sent to carry him to the castle. The driver is a tall, thin man with fiery eyes, a vice-like grip, and apparently some sort of wolf whisperer since he seems able to control the feral beasts that roam the countryside. The mysterious coachman deposits Harker at Castle Dracula and speeds off, leaving him alone in front of the darkened edifice without another soul in sight. Being the middle of the night, Harker isn't sure if he should risk waking the Count's servants or even if his knocking would be heard through such an immense residence. But before he can truly decide upon his next course of action, the Count himself opens the door and welcomes the weary traveler inside.
The Count seems a right proper old gentleman, quick to offer his guest a hot meal and waiting bed. He's of unique appearance, tall, lean, white hair, a white mustache, shining eyes, pointed ears, hairy palms... yeah, well, I guess his mother never warned him that would happen. Anyway, aside from being hairy, the Count's handshake is also remarkably strong, very reminiscent of the coachman's. It's not until later when he spies the Count making his bed and preparing his meals that Harker realizes there are no servants at all in the castle, and that the Count and the coachman are one and the same.
It doesn't take long for Harker's visit to go from business trip to living nightmare. At first he just notices some peculiar personality traits of the Count, like his solitary, servant-free lifestyle, his constant refusal to partake in any meals, and his unusual hours, often disappearing for long stretches of the night and never being seen at all during the day. But things take a more sinister turn early one morning when Harker, who is startled by the Count entering his room unobserved, accidentally nicks his chin. The sight of blood seems to send the Count into a frenzy. He only regains his composure when a desperate grab for his guest's throat brings him in contact with the crucifix chain around Harker's neck. Later, Harker is almost ravaged by three luscious vampire maidens and witnesses a woman outside the castle devoured by wolves upon the Count's command. See, right there, that would have me checking in to the nearest Holiday Inn. But Harker doesn't really have a choice. The castle is miles from civilization, and the Count says he can't arrange for his departure for a couple weeks. When Harker volunteers to walk out on his own, the Count gladly opens the door for him, only to have the savage wolves outside drive him back to the relative safety of the Count's protection. Harker is a prisoner.
The first section of the book consists only of Harker's journal entries, chronicling his horrific experiences at Castle Dracula. In fact, the entire novel is constructed of nothing but journal entries, letters, and newspaper accounts. The second section opens with letters between Mina Murray, Harker's fiancee, and her best friend, Lucy Westenra. Mina expresses her concerns for Harker's prolonged absence, while Lucy writes with the extraordinary news that she was proposed to by three different men on the same day. The one who claimed her heart was Arthur Holmwood, a dashing young man from a wealthy family. Holmwood won Lucy's hand over Quincy Morris, an American adventurer, and Dr. John Seward, a respected young physician who happens to run the mental asylum next door to the London property purchased by Count Dracula. Along with Dr. Abraham Van Helsing, an expert in arcane folklore, all will become major players during Dracula's time in England.
Written in 1897, "Dracula" isn't just some cheap, macabre horror story. In truth, it's a tale of sexual repression in the Victorian Age. Mr. Stoker uses vampirism to represent sexual freedom, with the drinking of blood symbolizing the sex act itself. Dracula only preys on women, draining their blood nightly, transforming them from virtuous young beauties into wanton, bloodthirsty predators. When the noble heroes of the story try to rescue Ms. Westenra from Dracula's hideous influence, they replenish her body with their own blood, giving it freely through transfusions in order to sustain life, making the act the cold, clinical representation of procreational sex. Meanwhile, Dracula slips into the woman's bedroom at night and sensually saps her blood for sheer pleasure.
Two other scenes in particular perpetuate the theme. The first is when Arthur Holmwood is forced to kill the woman he loves, driving a stake through her heart. While it's a gruesome prospect to say the least, the depiction of Ms. Westenra's death can only be described as orgasmic. The erotic imagery continues when Dracula cuts his own chest and forces Mina to drink his blood, pressing her mouth to the wound until she swallows. One doesn't have to be a pervert to see the symbolism there, but it sure helps.
"Dracula" works perfectly well as a pure horror story, containing plenty of gore, suspense, and adventure, but it's the underlying tale of sexuality that elevates it to the realm of genius. It's a fascinating glimpse into the morality of a bygone era. The fact Dracula has become such an accepted part of our culture, selling everything from candy to children's toys, makes one wonder how many people ever read, or understood, the original novel. This is a brilliant work of literature.
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