Book Review: Abraham Lincoln: Vampire Hunter

Grahame-Smith, Seth, (2010). Abraham Lincoln: Vampire Hunter. New York: Grand Central Publishing. Photo source: Amazon.com

Until I read Abraham Lincoln: Vampire Hunter, I hadn’t realized how much the readability of Seth Grahame-Smith’s previous book, Pride and Prejudice and Zombies, was derived from the original. While I admired the near seamless integration of zombies into Alcott’s social commentary, I considered the result more of a collaboration than an outright theft.

In Lincoln, Grahame-Smith attempts an interesting technique. After setting up the situation where a failed writer—how’s that for another cliché?—comes into possession of Abraham Lincoln’s secret diaries, Grahame-Smith randomly switches voice and often tense by inserting sections from the diaries into his narrative. The result read like a tenth-grade history paper in which the author is desperately trying to meet the teacher’s length requirement. Instead of abetting the flow of the story, the device constantly knocks the reader out of the story.

Character development is lacking. Who would have thought anyone could depict Abe Lincoln as a flat, uninspiring character. If that was Grahame-Smith’s intent, he succeeded.

One of the best things I can say about the book is that I found no glaring grammatical errors and no blatant historical inaccuracies. Aside from vampires, and they are a given.

I can’t say if this is a good thing or not, but I was completely unable to categorize Lincoln, not that I’m a true believer in forcing art to fit into neat little boxes. Lincolnis not a vampire story, nor is it really historical fiction. It is neither folkloric nor alternative history, neither enthralling nor fatiguing.

None of this is to say you shouldn’t read Lincoln. It is a quick read and fairly entertaining. It passes my three question test.

Did I finish it?

Yes. This, in and of itself, speaks volumes. I don’t have much time to read for pleasure anymore, and I stuck with this book to the predictable end.

Was it worth the effort?

Maybe. As I said, it is a quick, relatively entertaining read. Granted, it feels like Lincolnwas written before P&P&Zand was published solely on the success of that book.

How many other books did I finish in the process of reading this one?

None. I did wander off into a couple of real histories—but they were only a minor distraction

Using a five-star scale, Lincolnrates a solid two stars. It’s worth reading in an airport or on a train, but save it for a trip.

Book Review: Any Given Doomsday

Handeland, Lori (2008). Any Given Doomsday. New York: St. Martin’s Paperbacks. Photo source: Amazon

Any Given Doomsday is an urban fantasy novel about an ex-cop turned bartender named Elizabeth Phoenix, who is also a psychic. This is the first novel in a series to be called The Phoenix Chronicles. (A scene from the next book is even included as a teaser.) “Chronicles” seems to be the current word in fantasy to indicate a series.

The book is a fairly quick read, and it held my interest. While it did not keep me up nights reading, I wanted to pick it back up every time I laid it down. Even so, the style is distracting. It reads more like a 1940s private investigation novel. It’s a lot like reading an old Mike Hammer novel—but with vampires, werewolves, magic, and lots of graphic, gratituitous (if not very erotic) sex.

In short, Doomsday is a good book to pass a few hours with. It’s not high art, but it doesn’t pretend to be. This book does not take itself too seriously, and you shouldn’t either. Just relax and enjoy the ride—if you can.

Book Review: Wolves at the Gate

Goddard, Drew (2008). Wolves at the Gate: Buffy the Vampire Slayer Season 8, Issue 3. Cover source: Dark Horse Comics

Andrew: Oh, hi, Buffy. Hi, nude Asian girl…. How much Dramamine did I take?

—Drew Goddard

Wolves at the Gate comprises issues 12–15 of Season 8. As of this writing, it has not been reissued in book form, but that is only a matter of time given the previous history of this series.

Wolves returns the focus to Buffy, but it still feels like an arc device. That is, its main purpose seems to be to move the season along rather than to stand on its own. When BtVS was on the air, each season always included at least one show so dedicated. While important to the season, they were never very satisfying.

Wolves is an improvement on these other arc devices in that it provides a look at new facets of Buffy’s character. It also provides some insights into the relationship between Xander and Dracula, who appears to fight on the side of the slayers out of personal vanity because a group of upstart vampires in Tokyo have stolen some of his powers.

But Drew Goddard is what really separates Wolves from previous arc devices. He brings the wit and humor that characterized the series to the comic form. The writing is superb, making us fall in love with the characters again. What this episode lacks in plot, it more than makes up for in character development. Maybe, it isn’t just an arc device after all. Read it and decide for yourself.

Book Review: From the Dust Returned

Bradbury, Ray, (2001). From the Dust Returned. New York: William Morrow.

Photo source: LibraryThing

Like many of Bradbury’s “novels,” From the Dust Returned (hereafter referred to simply as Dust) began its life as a collection of short storied, most of which date from the 1940s. Most of these short stories are quoted in their entirety, becoming a “chapter” in the “novel.” I quote the words novel and chapter when applied to Dust because it is simply another short story collection bound together by a tenuous story line inserted as an afterthought and declared a novel.

Bradbury has never made any pretense of being anything other than a writer of superb short stories. He readily admits that his first novel, the classic Martian Chronicles, was simply a collection of unrelated short stories that shared a common setting. He repackaged these stories to get a publisher who demanded a novel to accept them.

Dust follows this tradition. Much of the book consists of a series of esoteric short stories that are really more word paintings than stories written in the 1940s, I assume the publishers were buying only two words in the stories: Ray Bradbury. The rest of the book consists mainly of new word paintings that tie the older stories together and provide a semblance of plot. Bradbury’s style is such that I couldn’t sort the older stories from the newer ones without consulting the acknowledgments.

Many of the transitions are abrupt, flinging the reader haphazardly from one frame of the comic to the next. But Bradbury’s eloquence quickly sooths any jangled nerves.

Now, there were times I was tempted not to pick the book back up. (Indeed, I may have set it down the first time I tried to read it; I found a bookmark a little more than half-way through.) If you’re looking for one of Bradbury’s more accessible works—say Fahrenheit 451 or Something Wicked This Way Comes, look elsewhere.

You should read Dust for the beauty of Bradbury’s language. Bradbury is a word painter who creates dramatic scenes in the reader’s brain though his mastery of poetic language. In rereading this work, I didn’t care that there is no real plot to follow. Neither did I care that the characters are mostly flat—more line drawings than portraits. Bradbury’s language is its own reward. It doesn’t knock the reader out of the story because there is no story, only flowing, beautiful language. Just make sure you’re in the mood for that kind of book before you pick this one up.

Báthory Dreams

Elizabeth Báthory:
The Bloody Lady of Čachtice Photo Source: Wikipedia

I don’t know what it is. First it was zombies at work. Last night it was Elizabeth Báthoryrunning a theme park in southeast Houston. The dream was plotted like a bad horror movie.

I started out looking for auto parts in what I think was Spring, Texas as it was in the early 1980s. I found out that I could get the part I needed but only if I traveled across Houston at rush hour. Somehow, that involved walking through a multi-level mall, where I became unconscious.

Still in the dream, I came to in a dungeon-like setting. The view zoomed down a long hall of rickety wooden stairs and dirt walls. I remember thinking, “That is a really cheesy effect!” And then we were at the room at the end of the hall. There was a very pale woman taking a blood bath, and I knew immediately that it was Elizabeth Báthory.

So she was a real vampire after all. At least, in the dream she was immortal. She seemed to be absorbing the blood through her skin like a sponge. It would run off of her skin like water, leaving the skin the color of limestone, unblemished and unstained.

Then the scene changed again. I was in a set of review stands. There were hawkers selling Elizabeth Bathory products to the spectators. A bound young woman was brought out to the theater floor. She was forced to kneel in the dirt and beheaded over a bathtub. The spectators all thought it was part of the show. I seemed to be the only one in the dream who knew it was real.

I knew I had to escape. Or to help someone else escape. But EB’s minions were loyal. Violence ensued. Then the alarm.

For such a dream, there was no emotional involvement, not even the involvement I would get from watching a movie. Not even dread. Just plodding through the plot. The characters were all involved. Even when the dream was in first person, I was detached from it. Strange really.