My favorite books to make you a true vampire scholar

This was a breakthrough in our (and my) understanding of vampires as an explanation for disease in the context of pre-industrial, agrarian societies. Everyone understood that there were (and to some degree, are still) persistent folk beliefs about vampires around the world, with Slavic and Balkan variants having gained a foothold in the popular imagination. Paul Barber explains the intricacies of belief, the particulars of that folklore, and illuminates one of humanity’s oldest tendencies that lies at the root of vampire stories—to blame death on the dead. There are gruesome anecdotes aplenty and Barber explains the logistics of vampire “attacks” down to every last, bloody detail. 

Whereas Barber expounds upon the anthropological origins of the vampire myth, McClelland focuses on the practices, principles, and logistics of killing the dead. The most familiar form comes in the unearthing and mutilation of bodies. McClelland explains the whys and wherefores of that practice, but he also gives their killers more than their due, explaining the role of vampire slayers as shamans, village elders, and quasi-religious figures during Europe’s transition from its pagan roots to modern Christianity. He demonstrates that vampires fell into an uneasy space between a fading system of peasant folklore and the organized religious rituals and beliefs that ultimately took their place. There are no vampires in the Bible, so where was the church during the vampire hysteria of the 1800s and how did they regard these mythical creatures? McClelland answers that and more. He also includes an overview of our modern conception of vampire slayers from Abraham Van Helsing to, yes, Buffy Summers. 

You didn’t think we would leave out the granddaddy of modern vampire fiction, did you? While John Polidori’s The Vampyre, J. Sheridan le Fanu’s Carmilla, and the penny dreadful Varney the Vampire preceded it, Bram Stoker’s epistolary masterpiece (and the film adaptations that followed) cemented our modern understanding of vampires, for better or worse. Some of Stoker’s assertions about the creatures are purely his own invention (nowhere in folklore do vampires turn into bats), but others he cobbled together in the ghastly figure of Dracula himself, who serves as a sort of harbinger of sexual decadence and xenophobic fears common in Victorian England. As a novel, Dracula is exquisitely crafted and remains breathlessly entertaining. I’ve lost count (if you will) of how many times I’ve read it. More importantly, though, if want to be a true vampire scholar, understanding our modern notions of the creatures is paramount. 

This book has engendered controversy for almost forcefully bridging the gap between the 15th Century Wallachian Prince Vlad III or Vlad the Impaler or Dracula. Stoker had already constructed his character, called “Count Wampyr,” before he learned of his future namesake. However, he quite clearly establishes a connection between the two through an explanation provided by Abraham Van Helsing. The Dracula of the eponymous novel is a heavily fictionalized version of the real-life figure, but so are most similarly positioned characters in literature, film, and television. Florescu and McNally provide a cursory overview of Slavic and Balkan vampire folklore, a biographical sketch of Vlad the Impaler, and illuminate the process by which Stoker adapted this violent, cunning, and sometimes brilliant nationalist and military tactician into a fictional monster.

There are people out there who think they are (or at least call themselves) vampires. At the extreme end, a handful of violent, deranged individuals believe they are the real article and are entitled to attack the living for sustenance. At the other end are role-players, cosplayers, and fans that are just in it for the fangs and the finery. In the middle, there are a wide range of types and personalities. Some believe they are physically addicted to drinking blood and seek out willing donors. Others find a morbid, sexual thrill in the practice. Still others believe they can, and need to, drain the energy of those around them (Colin Robinson, anyone?).

The subculture is vast, nuanced, and always growing. But what it is more often than not is misunderstood. While many are happy to talk about their practices, others shun attention for fear of being mocked, misunderstood, and taken out of context. As such, there are surprisingly few scholarly and non-fiction works on this subject. Many are written by the subculture’s adherents, which are, to be gentle, unobjective in their approach.

I picked Jeff Guinn’s Something in the Blood because it’s one of the few that avoids hysteria. It explores the vampire subculture through subject interviews and profiles, giving a cross-section of beliefs, though admittedly focusing on the “sanguinarians” who actually drink blood. Guinn also has a solid track record of popular non-fiction books on crime and history, so he presents an accessible outsider perspective to the phenomenon.