I always think of vampire novels as being a different flavor of romance novels, and since I’m not very interested in romance, I tend to look past them. It’s true that vampires and sexuality are usually very closely linked. There’s just something very intimate about someone’s teeth sinking into your neck. Having said that, I’m really not very familiar with the genre at all.
Interview With A Vampire surprised me. While there was a certain amount of eroticism to the vampires, it was more about dealing with their immortality and the unusual problems of ethics they faced. Each of the vampires breaks down in their own way in time. Lestat is childlike in attitude and concerned primarily with self-gratification. He’s entirely selfish and self-serving. However, he’s lonely and needy, and gradually devolves from a powerful, frightening character in the beginning, to a pathetic figure by the end. Claudia, meanwhile, is childlike in appearance even as she matures mentally, and therein lies her problem. Although she takes advantage of her appearance, she becomes increasingly frustrated with her inability to age, and with the way the others continue to treat her as the young girl she appears to be instead of the woman she is.
Louis, meanwhile, is an idealist. He enjoys the heightened senses of being a vampire, but finds killing to be distasteful. He can never enjoy it the way Lestat and Claudia do. He still holds onto his morals. The only reason he stays in Lestat’s company is to protect Claudia. While lonely and unhappy, he has not lost all remnants of his humanity, which is what attracts the vampire Armand, who wishes to have an anchor to this age.
In the end, of course, Louis is broken by the deaths of Claudia and the vampire he created to be her caretaker. He becomes apathetic and loses the passion that attracted Armand to him. The whole story is narrated by Louis to a young reporter, who completely misses the point. Louis is tired of his long life and all the suffering he’s endured, but the reporter believes the life of vampires to be ideal.
Wednesday, January 26, 2011
Tuesday, January 18, 2011
Monster Island
I’ll be honest and admit that Monster Island wasn’t the most enjoyable read for me. Part of it was simply because of the unedited nature of the prose. I did find a lot of it interesting; I liked a lot of the concepts behind Gary, such as the way he preserved his intelligence into death and the “network” of the dead. However, other aspects felt poorly thought out and not very believable, such as the character of Mael Mag Och and the mummies. I understand that they were preserved corpses, but how did Mael Mag Och retain his intelligence? After going through the trouble to explain how Gary could preserve his brain, the druid didn’t make any sense. His brain would have ceased functioning, right? And why were the mummies so strong? I wouldn’t nitpick if it was meant to be an unbelievable fantasy, but the attempts to add scientific explanations seemed half hearted.
I was also put off by the constant use of the term “Western,” especially the way it was mostly used to mean “civilized.” Here are some excerpts;
“The civilized countries, the ones with bicameral governments and honest police forces and good infrastructure and the rule of law and wealth and privilege, the entire West…”
“It was understandable, of course—Ayaan had probably never seen real women’s fashions before. She had spent most of her life in a uniform and the lure of Western dress must—“
"I didn’t think I really wanted that kind of responsibility though as a Westerner it was a relief to not have anyone else barking orders at me."
The last one especially confuses me. As a “Westerner?” Would an “Easterner” not be relieved to not be ordered around? It could have simply been “it was a relief,” or “as a non-soldier”. What does being Western have to do with it? I am still unsure as to whether the author intended Dekalb to come off as a culturalist asshole or if the author really thinks that way himself.
This brings me to what I consider to be the overall theme of the novel; Otherism, or rather, a sense of “us” versus “them.” There’s the living vs. the non-living, West vs. East (a divide made more pronounced by the “western” characters being mostly adult males while most of the others are young females) and so on. It ends up being a culture war with cannibalistic genocide.
I was also put off by the constant use of the term “Western,” especially the way it was mostly used to mean “civilized.” Here are some excerpts;
“The civilized countries, the ones with bicameral governments and honest police forces and good infrastructure and the rule of law and wealth and privilege, the entire West…”
“It was understandable, of course—Ayaan had probably never seen real women’s fashions before. She had spent most of her life in a uniform and the lure of Western dress must—“
"I didn’t think I really wanted that kind of responsibility though as a Westerner it was a relief to not have anyone else barking orders at me."
The last one especially confuses me. As a “Westerner?” Would an “Easterner” not be relieved to not be ordered around? It could have simply been “it was a relief,” or “as a non-soldier”. What does being Western have to do with it? I am still unsure as to whether the author intended Dekalb to come off as a culturalist asshole or if the author really thinks that way himself.
This brings me to what I consider to be the overall theme of the novel; Otherism, or rather, a sense of “us” versus “them.” There’s the living vs. the non-living, West vs. East (a divide made more pronounced by the “western” characters being mostly adult males while most of the others are young females) and so on. It ends up being a culture war with cannibalistic genocide.
Thursday, January 13, 2011
Frankenstein
I find it really interesting how the story of Frankenstein evolved into the almost mythic representation of his monster that we think of today. Most of this imagery derives from the many Frankenstein movies. There are no dramatic switches, or lightning strikes, or assistant Igors in the novel. Frankenstein is driven, but he’s not the cackling mad scientist many imagine. And far from being a mindless, animated corpse, Frankenstein’s monster was intelligent and full of very human emotions and desires. It was the constant denial of these desires, and the lack of loving companionship, that led to his murderous nature.
Frankenstein seems to focus largely on the consequences for not taking personal responsibility, as well as the nature of good and evil. Instead of dealing with his mistakes, Frankenstein continually runs away from them. But in running away, he only makes his problems worse; the stress of not knowing what the monster is doing or where he is gives him nervous breakdowns, and the monster grows more vengeful as time passes.
The monster himself is a tragic figure. He starts off childlike. He wants to be accepted, loved, and cared for, and he wants to care for others in turn. He becomes deeply attached to the family he watches, and our hopes rise with his that they might even accept him. Of course, it isn’t to be; they drive him away and he is left rejected and bitter. Shelley seems to be commenting here on the way society usually equates goodness with beauty and evil with ugliness. After this, the monster passes from childhood to adulthood, and seeks a female partner instead of a family.
Women seem to be held up on pedestals in this novel, not so much as strong figures but more as beautiful ideals that men admire as sisters, mothers, and wives. This makes sense knowing the context of the times it was written in. Women become a sort of prized possession or cherished pet.
Frankenstein seems to focus largely on the consequences for not taking personal responsibility, as well as the nature of good and evil. Instead of dealing with his mistakes, Frankenstein continually runs away from them. But in running away, he only makes his problems worse; the stress of not knowing what the monster is doing or where he is gives him nervous breakdowns, and the monster grows more vengeful as time passes.
The monster himself is a tragic figure. He starts off childlike. He wants to be accepted, loved, and cared for, and he wants to care for others in turn. He becomes deeply attached to the family he watches, and our hopes rise with his that they might even accept him. Of course, it isn’t to be; they drive him away and he is left rejected and bitter. Shelley seems to be commenting here on the way society usually equates goodness with beauty and evil with ugliness. After this, the monster passes from childhood to adulthood, and seeks a female partner instead of a family.
Women seem to be held up on pedestals in this novel, not so much as strong figures but more as beautiful ideals that men admire as sisters, mothers, and wives. This makes sense knowing the context of the times it was written in. Women become a sort of prized possession or cherished pet.
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