Well…all things considered…yes.

Before you break out the stakes and torches, let me briefly lay out my reasons for that opinion.

First, I’d ask that you read my various posts (1, 2, 3, & 4) about the experience of rereading Dracula recently. They lay out what I see as both the strengths and weaknesses of that novel.
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Yesterday I finished my reread of Dracula. Just to reiterate:

1. This time I approached it as 19th-century invasion literature.
2. I’m reading it as research for an upcoming poem and an in-progress rpg.
3. I’ve been somewhat underwhelmed by Stoker’s writing.

If you’re curious about any of those points, please see the earlier posts on the subject.

Pretty much all that’s left to be said on the subject is that the chase of the Count is one of the more exciting parts of the book. But it still ain’t that exciting. At least, not enough to keep a few nagging questions from popping up even during the action:

• How could Van Helsing expect the Host (Catholic wafer) to bar the Count forever from his grave? Couldn’t someone just remove it for him? Wouldn’t it decay over time anyway? Actually, this whole “he has to sleep in holy earth, but not too holy” rationale seems a bit thin.
• Why did Jonathan and Quincy push through the armed gypsy’s instead of ordering them away with their rifles? (Answer: Because Stoker felt it necessary to have at least one of his heroes die, for veracity’s sake, and this way Quincy—a veteran of numerous other combats, mind you—could get knifed and die in Mina’s arms. *Ptooey!*)
• How did Jonathan manage to lift by himself the “big square box” containing the Count (a box of the sort the novel has repeatedly described as too heavy for any but the Count to lift alone) and throw it off the wagon?

Add in the timing: The sun sets just as Harker and a bleeding Quincy wrench open the box (Godalming and Seward idly watching, apparently, even if you assume that Van Helsing and Mina are farther away), leaving Dracula to open his eyes in triumph just as Harker’s kukri severs his head and Quincy’s Bowie knife punctures his heart.

It’s a staged ending, to be sure, capped by the last rays of the sun shining through the now empty castle high above.

One more question in general: How is it that Dracula, who is apparently centuries old, has only recently decided to leave his barren home for richer lands? Stoker himself seems to be confused about this, sometimes claiming that in former times there were many vampires spawned by him, and then having Van Helsing go on at length about how the Count’s “child brain” has not yet developed to match their adult brains, which is why they have any chance of thwarting him at all.

I’ve said it before, but let me summarize it here: Dracula is a flawed novel, written by a relatively untalented one-hit-wonder. But don’t take my word for it: Read it yourself!

—Lester Smith

(Originally posted at www.LesterSmith.com)

In my rereading of Dracula, (this being my third time through since college—this time as research for a poem and the When Shadows Rise rpg), I’ve reached the point where Harker and Godalming are pursuing the Count by steam launch up the Sereth and Bistritza rivers toward the Borgo pass. Harker opens by writing in his journal by the light of the boiler fire Godalming is stoking. (Hence my post title.)

It’s striking how much more exciting Harker’s journal is than Dr. Seward’s has been, or Mina’s since the death of Lucy. (You may recall my saying in a previous post that the letters between Mina and Lucy are well done.) In part, I have to give Stoker his due that Harker’s persona is simply more focused and driven—at least in his own journal. And in part, I suspect, it’s that the group is again entering foreign lands that Stoker himself once visited and found interesting. There is, to be sure, a fascination in the exotic, and a sense of danger in simply being away from home.

However, a major reason this section works better than what has come before, I’d argue, is that Stoker has stopped dithering around, having his characters waffle back and forth as to what should be done, and throwing their hands into the air in dramatic displays of “overwrought” emotion. I’ve mentioned in an earlier post that Stoker was a business manager for the actor Henry Irving and his Lyceum Theatre, and that the characters in Dracula often act as if they were on stage. (Hmmm. Perhaps this explains why my wife and I so enjoyed an ISU stage production of Dracula some years ago.)

I’ve complained earlier that Van Helsing, as recorded in Dr. Seward’s diary, talked far too at length about revealing nothing until the appropriate time. The latest episode of Stoker’s apparent uncertainty as to how to proceed came in the group’s first keeping Mina out of their planning sessions, so that her feminine mind might not be overtaxed (after having earlier praised her strength of mind and great aid in—among other things—having collected and typed all the journals thus far), then deciding that she must not be kept out any longer, then deciding that she could not be trusted because the Count had infected her, then deciding she must be taken along because she couldn’t be left on her own, then deciding she and Van Helsing would actually proceed overland toward Castle Dracula (the why of which still hasn’t been explained) while the others pursue the Count’s boat.

Mind you, this all sounds much less problematic when summarized as above. Read it in the ongoing dialogues, as recorded by Dr. Seward, and you’ll understand why I say the book is simply uneven.

Lest you dismiss my complaints as jealous ravings, let me give you two last things to consider. First, as mentioned in a previous post, Stoker wrote Dracula ten years after the first Sherlock Holmes tale, making him a late contemporary of Doyle. Doyle’s writing puts Stoker’s to shame. Second, Dracula was written fifty years after Frankenstein; or The Modern Prometheus, in which Mary Shelley posits a perfect (not hideous) creature abandoned by its flawed creator, a creature that goes to increasing extremes to demand its creator’s attention. That’s some deep sh*t, as they say, compared to which Dracula is just a summer potboiler.

Frankly, Anne Rice’s vampire novels are better than Dracula, particularly Memnoch the Devil, which I think approaches Frankenstein as both a literary and philosophical endeavor.

—Lester Smith

(Originally posted at www.LesterSmith.com)

This one’s from a couple of years back. It’s loosely based on H. P. Lovecraft’s tale, “Herbert West—Reanimator.” The game has a pleasantly creepy ambiance: Those silhouettes of bare trees against the different background colors, the whistling wind, and the endless, shambling creatures make it nerve-wracking enough to keep you tense, while the play is engaging enough to keep you shooting to the bitter end. (Watch for the various different ways you can die.)

Use the shift key to switch between revolver and shotgun. Sometimes that’s critical. And best of luck.

De-Animator

—Lester Smith

(Originally posted at www.LesterSmith.com)

*sigh*

Yes, that’s one of the cheesiest titles I’ve ever heard for a movie. Yes, you’re right, I must have no pride at all to even think of watching such a film.

But you know what? The film surprised me. Imagine if Joss Whedon decided to jam Buffy and Serenity together into one movie—and wrote the script on one of his off days. The result could very well have been this film. It certainly has the sort of cast Mr. Whedon might have put together, and the dialog is well written. Even the special effects are respectable—while you can see where they had to cut some corners on location shots, they did a great job with what was available, and the computer animation is considerably better than average.

Now, given that concept, what would you have titled it?

Exactly. There are simply no good options for titling a movie about vampire hunters in outer space.

Buy Vampire Wars at Amazon

—Lester Smith

(Originally posted at www.LesterSmith.com)

1. Jonathan Harker’s journal makes a great beginning. The story therein is quite moody and wonderfully tense, and the uncertainty at the end carries a reader well into the next part of the book.
2. The letters and diaries of Mina and Lucy that follow not only further unfold the plot but also reveal the voices and natures of these two young ladies. I suspect Stoker had a great time writing from their point of view.
3. I had forgotten just how drawn out and dramatic Lucy’s “illness” is in the book. Most of it is told from Dr. Seward’s point of view, and effectively and entertainingly so.
4. Van Helsing really bogs down the book. His dialogue is virtually endless and pretty much pointless. I’m not sure what Stoker was thinking here, unless he just wanted to make the Dutch seem like windbags. Certainly his writing shows none of the delight in previous parts of the book. Also, I think Stoker may have let Lucy’s death subdue his writing at that point; it seems to lack heart.
5. Mina’s personality and diction begin to return some life to the tale. Even Van Helsing seems more direct around her (and not simply because it’s time to move the plot forward).

Summation: Sometimes even the best of writers need a good editor—or at least a workshop of other writers—to point out weak spots. I think Stoker could have benefited from a hefty editing of Van Helsing’s dialogue from the time of his introduction up to the point of Lucy’s death.

We’ll see what the next few chapters bring.

—Lester Smith

(Originally posted at www.LesterSmith.com)

Just to be clear, of the four movies by this title, I’m talking about the 2007 film, about a murdered lady ventriloquist taking her revenge on the town that killed her.

Not being a big fan of slasher flicks, I’m happy not to have known ahead of time that this film was created by the same team that created the Saw trilogy. Some people might actually find that an added attraction, of course, but I might have avoided Dead Silence in lieu of something else on the agenda.

And I would have missed out on a great film. There’s pretty much everything to like about this one. The story is tight, with surprise turns right up to the end. The concept is creepy, as are the events. (I got chills several times.) The acting is transparent, by which I mean that the characters are so well played that you get caught up in the story, forgetting it’s just a movie. And the cinematography is some of the best I can recall. There’s a starkness to the colors that leaves the impression of black and white, with just a touch of jaundiced green, against which dark red elements stand out, and the angles are carefully chosen to heighten the dreamlike effect.

It’s obvious the creators of this film poured their love into it. I’m impressed! Guess it’s time to reconsider watching Saw.