Dracula

I have chosen to write this for an audience that is familiar with the plot of Dracula. Therefore, the summary of the novel’s plot, purpose, and other points will be kept scarce and the focus will be on my response to the novel.

I have intentionally avoided reading scholarly work about Dracula because I want my own observations to be informed by my reading, not what the accepted criticism dictates. This was my first time reading Stoker’s infamous novel, and it was fascinating to think about the current cultural narrative surrounding vampires and reading it against the the text of Dracula. Several themes snagged my attention, especially those regarding masculinity and femininity.

The novel is created through a series of journal entries, letters, and memorandums. Leapfrogging from point of view to point of view was rather jarring at first, especially since I listened to this one as an audiobook. When we went from one character’s entries (Jonathan Harker’s) to adding five more points of view, it took me a few chapters to acclimate and accurately match names to characters. But once I settled into it, I came to appreciate the form, especially as it’s woven in with the technological advancement of the age. Dr. Seward speaks his diary entries into a phonograph, allowing for a sense of immediacy in the portions pulled from his perspective. Mina knows shorthand, allowing her to keep close watch and then transcribe all on her typewriter. The novel makes you keenly aware of its nature—that it was culled from the writings and recordings of the group, and the letters and entries themselves play a key role in advancing the plot. As the novel progresses, it becomes more and more self-reflexive as well as reflective.

As far as the impact on the reader, I found the delayed narrative, slow progress, and individual entries effective ways to build suspense. I am not much of a horror reader, so this could be part of it. But peeking through the letters, seeing things that the individual writers did not see, makes it feel like you, too, are sitting in a room and wondering if tonight is the night that the Count shall kill you. Harker’s diary entries at the beginning were especially tense. The scene where Dracula kidnaps a child and set his wolves upon the babe’s distraught mother chilled me to the bone.

Stoker constantly highlighted the importance of strong men and good women. I have mixed thoughts on that. Much of my academic work has centered around examining the idea of the “angel in the house” and the ways this ideology damaged relationships between men and women, setting up a double standard for male and female behavior. Published in 1897, Stoker’s novel is on the tail end of that narrative as the tide shifts, and I find it fascinating how he simultaneously reinforces yet pushes back against the angel in the house narrative. The criticism that I did briefly run across mentioned the novel’s focus on desire. I can certainly see that reading, but I think the interplay between the masculine and feminine hinges on their respective roles: is the woman the angel or the demon? And once she has been touched by the vampire’s deadly kiss, can she remain an angel? What does it mean to be sensual? And perhaps most importantly: women can fall, too. It made me think—about men, about women, about natural tendencies, about cultural expectations.

Lucy, the first fatal victim of vampirism in the novel, is described as being ridiculously good and pure and wonderful. But this goodness is not enough to save her. She becomes one of the undead, preying on local children, and her body is mutilated to save her from becoming an eternally horrific figure. It is good, strong men who step in to mutilate her body, physically destroying the one who had formerly served as their angel.

Mina, on the other hand, is another victim. First, the men try to shield her. She is the “angel in the house.” Her purity cannot even know the details of the evil they are facing in the vampire. But she has essential knowledge, so they once more bring her into their confidence, only to decide that Mina should not, in fact, know what their plans are. This ultimately ends with her becoming a second victim of the vampire. So, they loop her into their plans again. Oh, wait, that backfired, too. So they kept her out. So they let her in. The constant back-and-forth seems to reflect the cultural dialogue at the time—could women play on the same level as men? Should they be shielded from the world? Is the home as a refuge from sin a realistic ideal, or does it set women up for failure? Do the expectations that women remain innocent actually lead to their pollution?

Ultimately, the unlikely band’s success in defeating Count Dracula came about because of Mina’s knowledge and connection to Dracula. Because she shares that with the others, they are able to corner and defeat the vampire. With this objective complete, the four men circle around Mina as the light bathes her forehead, revealing that the mark has disappeared. Bathed in the light of the setting sun, Mina is seen as a guiding light and key moral figure in the closing pages of the novel.

However, this emphasis on the goodness of woman does not preclude the goodness of man. There is a thread of sexual desire that seems inherent to the vampiric nature. Stoker uses the interplay between the sensuality of evil and the resistance of the pure in heart as a push and pull. The pure do not succumb to base desires; if they do, they are led directly into the vampire’s snare. Interestingly, because Lucy met the vampire while sleepwalking, she is exempt from being considered a fallen moral figure—perhaps a commentary on the potential of latent desire, however deeply buried or suppressed it may seem to be.

Sexuality and sensualism aside, the men of the novel are depicted as courageous. However, their courage does not revolve around a lack of fear or a refusal to show emotion. Jonathan Harker, sheds many tears as he watches his wife’s health deteriorate. The men fight, and fight courageously, but they also show sensitivity and depth. Their devotion and emotional depth are innately tied to their appreciation of the good women in their life. Would they be capable of feeling and acting as deeply and well without the presence of those women? Should they?

From beginning to end, I found Dracula to be a suspenseful, thought-provoking novel that seriously contends with questions of technology, good and evil, gender, and religion, and I look forward to exploring the criticism and learning more about Stoker’s immediate and long-term influence.

Literary Leanings—A New Beginning

It’s been years since I’ve written anything on this blog. Since I wrote a few random blog posts in college, I have graduated, taught English, gone to grad school, edited and written various projects, and ultimately landed up in a job doing full-time pro-life advocacy. I’m incredibly thankful for the opportunity to work in the pro-life arena, and I love my job.

But still—I miss writing. I read and write regularly for work, but it’s not the same as reading quality literature, discussing it for hours, and writing papers where I analyze the nuances of word choice and symbolism.

So, I’ve decided to set a syllabus for myself.

In 2024, I commit to reading 12 high-quality pieces of literature and writing a response of at least 700 words to each of them. For accountability’s sake, I will post my literary ramblings here. To kick things off, I’ll start with a shorter response to Bram Stoker’s Dracula, which I recently listened to on audiobook. Listening to Dracula actually kickstarted my idea for a year of literary adventure—listening to it made my fingers itch to write a paper. I’m excited to untangle my initial response to Dracula and look forward to learning and reflecting on literature in a new way in 2024.