I loved the epistolary format of Dracula. It is always so interesting to get inside someone’s head while they encounter strange things, like elderly men who are actually creatures of the night and crawl up and down stone walls. For its time, I can not even imagine what people’s thoughts were. A story about a country many had never visited, about a man who lives off human blood? GASP!
What is unfortunate, though, is how “Dracula” is portrayed in America today. Stoker’s creature was evil and, bluntly, disgusting. I was honestly surprised. He ate people and kept witches for company. Stoker’s Dracula would never have avoided his urges. He had no feelings, except to feed his hunger for blood, and maybe a little feeling of lust for pretty ladies. Today’s Dracula, and vampires in general, somehow (should we blame or thank Bela Lugosi?) became romantic creatures – drawn by love and able to fight their natural instincts to eat what they like to eat (us).
Is there something to be said about people’s fears in the late 1890s compared to today? A friend commented on another post that “maybe the reason some readers (me…) found the story (Daughter of Blood) lacking is because their imagination in reading is lacking…” Have we really lost our sense of imagination? Are we (me included…) so lost in real life that it’s almost impossible to imagine those “outstanding worlds” of imagination? I like to think not, but the more I consider what has happened to Dracula, I wonder if she’s right. Are we so obsessed with controlling our lives with iPads and GPSs that we think we can control vampires and convince them to not want to eat our blood?
What do you think?
Oh, and for those who are wondering: I loved True Blood. I love Being Human. I even couldn’t put down most of the Twilight series. I don’t see why we can’t appreciate both.