This is one dense book. If you’re not at all familiar with the authors of the source material—novels, essays, criticism and poetry, etc.—then the paroThis is one dense book. If you’re not at all familiar with the authors of the source material—novels, essays, criticism and poetry, etc.—then the parodies of their styles make no sense. Most of the time, they’re not particularly funny, especially when the original works deal with contemporary issues of the day such as long-dead political members.
This book is clearly meant for the more erudite reader, someone well versed in the works of Joyce, Wordsworth, Tennyson, Byron, Twain, Whitman, Shelley, Donne, Dickens, Dickinson, Updike, Lamb, Stein, as well as more obscure names like Twiss, Tynan, Traill, De Quincey, Gibbs, Douglas, Howitt, Highet, et al. There is even one extended passage in French with no English translation. If your reading tastes tend to contemporary authors and poets from the later 20th to 21st centuries, this book will be a struggle to wade through and will leave you baffled and frustrated.
For the scholarly reader who might enjoy whimsical introductions to authors s/he was planning to read, this book might prove to be a mountain worth climbing. You might even be intrigued enough to go pick up works by the original authors and see what was so special about them. However, for those who prefer much lighter fare, skip it and delve into books you might actually like by authors you prefer and respect. Life is too short to wade through Dickens or Melville just because you think you should....more
M. Brillat-Savarin was a man of many parts and infinite appetites. He could be sly and playful, racist and charming. But above all he adored food and M. Brillat-Savarin was a man of many parts and infinite appetites. He could be sly and playful, racist and charming. But above all he adored food and its consumption. It was he who made the famous epigram “Tell me what you eat, and I will tell you who you are.”
This translation of his famous book shows the impact of gastronomy on France and the world at large. M. Brillat-Savarin partook of meals of stunning opulence and humble simplicity. His exquisite charm caused him to be welcome almost anywhere and his keen eye, gift as a raconteur and recollection presents for the reader insightful glimpses into a past century and its culinary delights.
M. Brillat-Savarin spoke different languages (although his attempts at the Yankee idiom were a bit risible) and that enabled him to appreciate and talk knowledgeably about different cuisines and the habits of bygone diners. The sybaritic feasts of the Romans, which culminated in lavish and expensive parties that had no other purpose than to outdo the neighbors, were as equal in his eyes as a spread by Bernardine monks. The book delves into rapturous descriptions of different comestibles and the people who swear ardently by them and disdain other foodstuffs as being mere trash.
In M. Brillat-Savarin’s mind, the business of eating should be raised to an art form, to be flaunted under the auspices of its own idol, one not invented by the Greeks: Gastera, the tenth muse. He actually had a picture of her in his mind: a young girl with black hair and blue eyes, festooned by fire-colored ribands (sic). (Quite an image. It makes me tempted to grab my drawing pencils and sketch her.)
The meditations touch of many different subjects: consumption of food, the rise of the restaurant, health, thinness, obesity, digestion, rest, sleep and dreams, et al. Each chapter is engrossing in its own way, although some readers may choose to pick among the different topics if they don’t want to read the book from beginning to end.
The translator’s glosses by M.F.K. Fisher made the book a bit tedious for me and quite lengthened its reading time. It’s not fun to have to read a passage and then flip to the back of the chapter to get her edification behind a certain word or phrase. It took me almost a month to read a book that would normally cost me a week in perusal.
But it you admire anything about food, or simply want to read one of the most renowned works ever penned about its enjoyment, this book is worth the effort....more
Greg may be wimpy but he’s also determined, cunning, sly, self-righteous and egotistical—but in nice ways, of course. What comes through in this instaGreg may be wimpy but he’s also determined, cunning, sly, self-righteous and egotistical—but in nice ways, of course. What comes through in this installment is his willingness to manipulate those around him to achieve his own ends including his well-meaning but slow friend Rowley. He realizes when he’s not making the best impression but perseveres nonetheless. Far from being a spineless wimp, Greg tries very hard to navigate the various pitfalls middle school throws at him as well as the awful plans of his own family. Like many young American boys, he tries to duck responsibilities, hard work, wholesome food and chores—not that those avoidances always work out in his favor.
This installment continues Greg on his journey to young adulthood with roguish humor and the sly tone never falters. Greg is an average kid but his averageness is engaging and spirited. ...more
Wry, occasionally heartbreaking in tone and drily humorous, Love and Other Perishable Items shows that growing up is fraught with difficulties, no matWry, occasionally heartbreaking in tone and drily humorous, Love and Other Perishable Items shows that growing up is fraught with difficulties, no matter how young or old you are. Chris and Amelia’s “voices” are so precise; you feel as if they’re people that you met at a dull party and fell into conversation with, enlivening matters immensely. Amelia is an especially sparkling personality to read. She’s just 15 and yet already thoughtful beyond her years. That doesn’t save her from the usual adolescent perils: a wrongful crush, judgmental attitude and the near-crippling fear of being left alone while others get on with their lives.
Chris is 22 and his playful attitude towards Amelia avoids the threat of statutory rape that might otherwise have given this book a grimmer mood. Instead, we have two people struggling along to make sense out of their lives and their own treacherous emotions. Chris’s advanced years give him little social advantage over Amelia. He’s also floundering, stuck in his own hopeless crush, a dead-end job and still living with his parents.
The book takes an epistolary theme, with journal entries and letters revealing the inner hearts of its two main characters. It also has Chris and Amelia discussing various literary works. This doesn’t deaden the book by any means—just the opposite. The two argue in a way that makes these classics fresh, absorbing and rather pointed in their connection to their own modern problems.
As a look at adolescence and twenties adulthood, Love and Other Perishable Items is scintillating and insightful. It’s one of the best books about growing up that I’ve ever read and definitely more than a Young Adult novel....more
Looping back and forth through time, Cloud Atlas is an ambitious novel, one that digs deep into the bestial heart of humanity. The panoply of characteLooping back and forth through time, Cloud Atlas is an ambitious novel, one that digs deep into the bestial heart of humanity. The panoply of characters range far and wide, each one an indispensable thread in a broad tapestry. Even when a person seems like a mere bit player, s/he will display a sudden spate of activity that puts a twist on the narrative and propels the main characters on another leg of the journey.
The book ranges across time and space, nearly spanning the globe as various people struggle to find their footing in a world that becomes ever more chaotic the farther they travel. While there are some nuggets of hope for the future, the overall picture is that of a race bent on destroying itself. Danger, love, lust, art, adventure, treachery, murder, conspiracy, abuse and more make this book an electrifying jaunt....more
Mr. Klosterman’s essays come off as being alternately interesting and annoying. Interesting in that they read like the witty banter you might have froMr. Klosterman’s essays come off as being alternately interesting and annoying. Interesting in that they read like the witty banter you might have from someone at a party who isn’t too wasted and annoying in that he has very set opinions about everything (his idea of a Man, e.g., involves the ability to shoot and kill live animals) that you don’t necessarily possess but which he insists on sharing with you.
However, his ability as a raconteur cannot be denied. Whether describing his girlfriends with song lyrics or comparing them to members of KISS or cringing in embarrassment over how Americans have idolized Elvis, Mr. Klosterman’s essays are thought provoking, amusing and occasionally rise to the poetic. While he doesn’t necessarily obtain any deep insight from travelling the country visiting the sites of dead rock musicians, his observations along the way make for a fascinating window on to a broad swath of the American public. ...more
Reading the text of familiar classics is like returning to an old friend you haven’t seen in ages. You’re astonished at first by the changes (goodnessReading the text of familiar classics is like returning to an old friend you haven’t seen in ages. You’re astonished at first by the changes (goodness, he looks so old). Then the next moment something familiar is said, the sparks fly just like they used to and, in moments, it’s as if you’d never been apart.
The story of a mad creator and his abhorred abomination never palls. The crazed fever of Frankenstein, the palpable, desperate yearning for warmth and companionship of his nameless creation ring as true now as they ever did. Frankenstein’s inexorable spiral into a maelstrom of revenge, despair, loneliness and death are no less haunting than the death-strewn path of destruction of the creature.
Such is the power of Shelley’s writing that there is no clear protagonist, no certain malefactor in this story. The reader finds himself vacillating in his sympathies between the two beings. Is Frankenstein to blame for creating the fiend (as he calls it) or is his unnamed handiwork to be considered a monster, no better than a criminal, for deliberately seeking out and killing Frankenstein’s loved ones? Each had choices he could have made, each could have turned at any moment from the path he took. The fallacy of tampering with nature, the responsibility of creator to creation and the pointlessness of revenge are just some of the themes touched on in this classic story and they are as provocative today as when Mary Shelley first penned this result of a hideous nightmare. ...more
Ms. Leo’s detailing of her rape at the hands of a home intruder reads in a very dry fashion, more like a stock report than a tale of violence and sexuMs. Leo’s detailing of her rape at the hands of a home intruder reads in a very dry fashion, more like a stock report than a tale of violence and sexual perversion. The incident itself is written about in the very first chapter, with her clinically noting everything that happens with the intention of informing the police about it afterwards. She picks a glass with the belief that it will hold her assailant’s DNA and prints and collects his cigarettes in a plastic bag in the hope that police can pick up evidence from his saliva.
A born storyteller Ms. Leo is not. There is little or no emotional affect in this story, no indication of weeping, tears, screaming or anxiety attacks, no sign that she saw a psychiatrist or got any kind of counseling. There are paragraphs about how she withdraws from people, how she makes plans to go out and then changes her mind and that she stops making long-term plans because of her decision to leave after the rape. But she keeps a tight rein on her feelings. Even her recital of her crime in court is kept deliberately low key, with no mention of her feelings during the event.
Instead she focuses on her attempts, before and after the crime, to get her landlord to fix broken locks, the barred windows in her apartment that prevented her from escaping her attacker, the various violations in her building and her complicated legal battle to bring a lawsuit against the owners of the building.
What emerges is a startling picture of a flawed legal system, systematic efforts on the parts of contractors and real estate agents to oust people from their homes and set up expensive condos in their place and the sinister tactics they will stoop to in order to achieve their ends. It is a disturbing picture, one that depicts an arrangement that targets the poor, disenfranchised and anyone ignorant of their rights as tenant. Her digging into the background of her particular crime turns up some worrying statistics, as well, pointing out the particular vulnerability of women.
Her cases against her landlord and rapist were successful. But the book leaves the reader with a decidedly unsettled feeling about the nature of crime and the future of inhabitants in New York City. ...more
A 25-year-old virgin? How interesting…okay, I’m a virgin and considerably older than that so I’m not that impressed.
It’s rare to find books that celeA 25-year-old virgin? How interesting…okay, I’m a virgin and considerably older than that so I’m not that impressed.
It’s rare to find books that celebrate the joys of being single without a tone of desperation or shrill defiance creeping into it. Over the years, I’ve stumbled across a few gems that show that singlehood is fine, acceptable and indeed highly desirable.
So Ms. Heaney’s adventures in the realm of not-dating are diverting in their way. She doesn’t actually suffer much from peer pressure (she’s surrounded by women who give advice about dating but not evil cows who insist that she’d be so much more relaxed if she got laid already). According to the acknowledgements, her parents never once said she’d be happier off if she got a man in her life. So she hasn’t felt parental coercion.
Without this kind of conflict, her toe-dipping into the dating pool are so easy going that you sense little in the way of tension. She has had her share of heartbreak. But you sense that it’s more due to disappointment than real emotional pain. So where’s the appeal in this story of a not-so-plain Jane?
Well, her experiences were so similar to mine that I felt a kind of tie with her, which makes one much more receptive to a book than a mere pretty cover. And Ms. Heaney is pretty, very much so. She’s tall which can make it difficult to find a male (I’m tall so I can relate there as well.). But being attractive means she hasn’t lacked for attention. She’s just inept at keeping the guys focused on her.
That is what supplies much of the humor. Ms. Heaney is socially inept when it comes to picking up cues or displaying them to men. (The fact that she takes over 124 pages to show the word “virgin” indicates that her blundering goes beyond mere sexual inexperience.) Her journey towards getting (or avoiding) kissed, her brief flirtation with OkCupid and her watching all of her girlfriends date and wondering how (or why) they do it make for some light-hearted reading. ...more
Gris Grimly’s vision of Shelley’s 19th-century work hews faithfully to the literary text. It is ghastly, grisly, horrific and often moving. The sympatGris Grimly’s vision of Shelley’s 19th-century work hews faithfully to the literary text. It is ghastly, grisly, horrific and often moving. The sympathy lies with the monster but we feel for Frankenstein as well, beset as he is by remorse, fits of mania and an ardent, pitiful desire to have affection and love in his life. The tie between creator and creation becomes very distinct as Mr. Grimley’s illustrations evoke their mutual frustrations, searches and yearnings.
The monster’s story is particularly well done. Eschewing the text at one point, the creature’s attempts to connect with humanity are conveyed in mostly wordless pictures. These panels take the place of writing and brilliantly convey the mute stage of the monster’s development when it had neither words nor understanding of the world about it.
However, I don’t care for Mr. Grimly’s illustrations. While they are adept at conveying mood, expression, place and placement, I found his drawings exaggerated, his main protagonists often skeletally thin, with smiles or frowns extended beyond the outlines of their faces and with weird, nasty juxtapositions. Images of skeletons, bones and organs are scattered indiscriminately throughout the story. This emphasis on Gothic melodrama rather warped the story for me and I didn’t like them. In particular, the bizarre hair of Frankenstein and Clerval was not to my taste (although I suppose the white streaks in Elizabeth’s hair could be considered a winking tip of the hat to James Whale’s Bride of Frankenstein).
This is merely a stylistic critique on my part. Just because I didn’t like Mr. Grimly’s style doesn’t mean that someone else won’t find them pleasing. De gustibus non est disputandum. ...more
Ah, New York. There’s nowhere and nothing quite like it. Here it is, in all its steamy, seamy, sordid splendor and grit. The hicks, chicks, dicks, chiAh, New York. There’s nowhere and nothing quite like it. Here it is, in all its steamy, seamy, sordid splendor and grit. The hicks, chicks, dicks, chicks with dicks, thugs, lugs, rubes, boobs, hippies, chippies, yuppies, buppies, homeless and hopeless are all here, all of them with something to say. Lewd, rude, crude, loud, rowdy and obnoxious and proud of it (no, fiercely proud of it; no, DAMN proud of it!), they cry out their opinions, foolishness, pride and shame and don’t care who sees them washing their dirty laundry in public.
This is one great book, hilarious, ribald and occasionally sad. It does make you think but mostly it just makes you goggle. This is a fine gift for tourists or even for that New Yorker who thinks s/he has seen it all....more
Marjane’s journey into adulthood leads her into the absurdities, horrors, hilarities and occasional slips that result from someone who doesn’t always Marjane’s journey into adulthood leads her into the absurdities, horrors, hilarities and occasional slips that result from someone who doesn’t always know what she needs in life but is determined to get what she wants. Her intelligence shines through, even when she experiments with drugs, drink and foreign philosophies. She’s not perfect by any means—there are moments when she doesn’t always stand up for herself, blames others or takes the easy route. But Marjane had learned repression and rebellion in equal measure and her struggle to reconcile the two opposite behaviors form the basis of the life she carves out for herself....more
This book is a tough call for me. On the one hand, I found Ms. Lancaster’s mishaps and misadventures genuinely amusing. On the other hand, there were This book is a tough call for me. On the one hand, I found Ms. Lancaster’s mishaps and misadventures genuinely amusing. On the other hand, there were moments when I utterly despised her character and hated reading about her. She is a foul-mouthed, vain, over-drinking, overweight menace who spends too much time watching and talking about trivialities and hating her neighbors and not nearly enough time at the gym. She apparently can’t stand hippies, children, politicians and “Sex in the City” (although her hatred of the latter may be justified).
She spends so much time ticked off and annoyed at the world, I wonder how her long-suffering husband Fletch can stand her. When she details how she deliberately pesters him while he’s working, sets off the alarm, punches him repeatedly in the arm during one of their weird games (admittedly, he punches back when it’s his turn but you can bet she’s the one who suggested this mutual sadism in the first place) and forces him to watch “Desperate Housewives”, I ask myself why he hasn’t strangled her in her sleep by now.
But then I read about his misdemeanors, her attempts to change and get closer to the neighbors. Jen’s not a crazed, vapid fool. She’s just a woman with a razor-edged sense of humor and just enough self-deprecation to make her understandable instead of a boring object of pity. She’s part of the vast stew that is Chicago and her neighbors are just people like herself. The book isn’t a charmer by any means (and neither is she). But, like the Windy City itself, it does grow on you just a little....more
Who doesn’t remember haikus, the fallback of every underpaid teacher as a way of presenting children to verse? You were introduced to them in the secoWho doesn’t remember haikus, the fallback of every underpaid teacher as a way of presenting children to verse? You were introduced to them in the second or third grade and, for many of us, that’s where our lessons in poetry stopped (unless you decided to take English Lit[e] in High School).
Mr. Mecum clearly remembers those fledgling stabs at shoving culture down the throats of our young’uns in this, his third entry in creature feature poetry. The internal journey of a poor mailman bitten by a vicious wolf during his regular route swings between the hilarious and the horrific as he learns to embrace his inner beast while fighting the gag reflex caused by his tongue hair. Pithy, witty, just a tiny bit sad and accompanied by line drawings and graphic images of blood, body parts, raw meat and unibrows, the series of poems ends on an ambiguous note, one that will certainly split readership as to the outcome of its antihero. Who will win—the Lady or the Wolf? (As an additional bit of zest, read these while listening to the list of stalk—love songs listed on page six.) ...more
This book gives us the 1818 text as formed by Mary Shelley and her husband as well as the original text as written by the adolescent girl alone. FilleThis book gives us the 1818 text as formed by Mary Shelley and her husband as well as the original text as written by the adolescent girl alone. Filled with spelling errors, grammatical flaws and missing or odd punctuation, this reveals the true origin of the Frankenstein story, one that might come as a real eye opener to people who know it only from the various movies. (Only the 1977 Terror of Frankenstein comes even close to the source material. It’s a Swedish-Irish version which makes a lot of sense since much of the novel takes place in those regions.) Revealing much of the inner thoughts of Frankenstein and its creation, it is a rich, multi-layered text, a-brim with local color, conflict and inner dialogue.
Mary Shelley created a powerful work that continues to resonate throughout the decades, a novel that has never been out of print from the year it was published. However, it does show some of the immaturity of the 19-year-old woman who penned it. The text can be repetitive, some sections are dragged out that could have worked better with a little tightening and Victor Frankenstein faints just a little too often.
However, two fascinating literary characters were forged, ones that generate endless debate and consideration. The nameless creation is a being of contradiction, much like his creator. He inspires sympathy and horror in almost equal amounts. Frankenstein’s character is a little harder to understand. You get the feeling that he is genuinely mad, given his original obsession with creating a rational being in defiance of God and religion.
Perhaps some of it stems from the grief over his mother’s death and yet that particular grief is rarely touched upon in the novel. It seems as if Frankenstein created this being simply because he could and not out of any feeling for his fellow man. Frankenstein is also subject to black depression, mood swings, hysteria and moments of rage almost equal to that of the being he created. Did he somehow let loose his Id when he made his daemon? Is the wretch his dark mirror as much as the product of his genius?
The novel is far from perfect but it’s a genuine work of horror, even after almost 200 years. Mary Shelley wanted to write about something that horrified her and she succeeded. No other ghost story created by her travel companions has lasted, even by her poet lover-turned-husband. Lightning struck the creator if not the creation....more
Prejudice is deep, ingrained and is shifted only with grindingly slow persistence. Ms. Beals novel about her travails and injuries in being one of thePrejudice is deep, ingrained and is shifted only with grindingly slow persistence. Ms. Beals novel about her travails and injuries in being one of the first black children ever to attend Central High in Little Rock, Arkansas, reads like the book of Job. Hardly a day at school went by that she wasn’t harassed, teased, attacked, spat upon, inked, scalded, stabbed and injured by her fellow white students. Even those white alumni who were sympathetic at first gradually shrank away due to the peer pressure and threats of the bullying majority.
Written with the clear language of an adult but with the feelings of the adolescent she was, this insightful novel is a moving testimony, not only to the girl’s perseverance, but to those people around her who stood by her and those who fell by the wayside in spite of their best intentions.
Melba Beals was no saint. She struggled with her decision to challenge segregation every day. Her less-than-stellar moments, her vacillating faith, her fury against her oppressors and her soul-deep despair all cry from the pages with the immediacy of a personal letter rather than the dry distance of history. She was bolstered by her mother even after the woman lost her job, her sassy Grandmother who refused to let Melba feel sorry for herself and, always, by her faith in an all-seeing, all-caring God.
It is hard for people to believe that blacks could have been so bitterly persecuted as these people once more. Then you think about the stop-and-frisk tactics of modern police officers and realize that matters haven’t advanced as far as you might think. “Warriors Don’t Cry” reminds us that freedom must be fought for whether you are a soldier or a little girl. ...more
Adrian grows up—a little. He’s still a teenager, still obsessed with Pandora, sex and the size of his thing, but his “intellectualism” forces him to vAdrian grows up—a little. He’s still a teenager, still obsessed with Pandora, sex and the size of his thing, but his “intellectualism” forces him to view the world in much wider terms. New additions to his family, the immorality of the world and his complicated relationship with his upright girlfriend make Adrian Mole even more interesting to read than in the previous novel. Still pretentious, still yearning for attention, still striving to make time for others while getting his “O” levels, Adrian’s struggle is an all-too-human one and all the way appealing because of it....more
Adrian is a typical teenager. Okay, he’s an English teenager but his “diary” shows that adolescents the world over have the same thoughts, feelings, pAdrian is a typical teenager. Okay, he’s an English teenager but his “diary” shows that adolescents the world over have the same thoughts, feelings, problems and insular introspection that goes with the territory. He worries about acne, girls (one particular girl), the size of his penis and about being an intellectual. It is this latter concern that raises him a notch above other self-absorbed kids but not so much that he becomes a tiresome bore.
The wry, worrisome voice of the adolescent is dead-on target and Ms. Townsend doesn’t spare us from the whiny, less appealing side of her creation. Adrian Mole’s diary makes him a figure for the ages, as much as Holden Caulfield did for an earlier generation. ...more
Mr. Seth Grahame-Smith has been known mainly for being the originator of “mash-ups”, the taking of well-known classic works and inserting odd elementsMr. Seth Grahame-Smith has been known mainly for being the originator of “mash-ups”, the taking of well-known classic works and inserting odd elements into them. This has had wildly varying levels of success from his “Pride and Prejudice and Zombies” to the execrable “Sense and Sensibility and Sea Monsters”, et al.
In this novel, he has attempted something different: giving a new slant on the history of one of America’s most famous Presidents. Taking facts and carefully mixing them with horror fiction, Abraham Lincoln’s voice comes alive in an “epistolary” novel detailing his rise from a young boy struggling to make ends meet in his poor family to a world-weary, battle-hardened veteran in the never-ending war against vampires. The reader gains a different view about Lincoln’s antipathy towards slavery, not so much in the belief that Negroes were equals to white men as his horror that they were used as feeding stations for nosferatu and stepping-stones for the ultimate subjugation of an entire nation.
The effort is largely successful. We gain a feel for the passionate Abe Lincoln, the witty, largely self-educated man of letters as well as the strong fighter for equality and the President that yearned to unite his embattled country. Mr. Grahame-Smith proves himself a careful writer as well as a gifted storyteller.
If I have any quibble, it’s with the Photoshopped photographs. They are meant to lend an air of authenticity to the story. But there are a couple of errors such as when we see a picture of a pair of black-eyed vampires leaning against a building. There are shadows cast but they are notably lacking for the two bloodsuckers, a glaring error that proves them to be a fake.
But these are minor flaws. In spite of its serious tone, the book isn’t meant to be a hidden slice of history; it is undoubtedly fictional. So I highly recommend this book to anyone who would like a fresh look at vampirism, whether or not they are a fan of America’s 16th President....more
This “journal” catches just the right tone of secrecy, mounting emotion and inner revelation. We learn a great deal about Abraham Van Helsing—his schoThis “journal” catches just the right tone of secrecy, mounting emotion and inner revelation. We learn a great deal about Abraham Van Helsing—his scholastic passion, his curiosity, his impatience and occasional blunt tactlessness—but also about the shadowy creatures he is tracking. These vampires are a shadowy yet very real threat, striking without warning and seemingly with few weaknesses. They are malicious, ruthless and much like rabid dogs. They don’t need to trade blood with their victims; a mere bite is enough to infect someone and change them into one of the nosferatu, the “walking dead”.
Hampered as much by his colleagues’s disbelief as the limited power of the human will, the horror, fear and despair that attend Van Helsing’s feeble attempts to root out the growing vampire menace are made manifest with every page. There are neither Slayers nor fearless vampire killers here to stop these demons. With very few exceptions, they are so powerful, killing them remains near impossible. All humans can manage is a kind of holding pattern in which they put up plants, religious symbols and other frail defenses to keep them at bay.
“The Journal of Professor Abraham Van Helsing” exerts its icy grip slowly over the senses, making you wish to hurry home before the sun sets and lock all the doors and windows. In spite of the glut of vampire novels on the market, this book takes us back to the origins of the nosferatu, reminding us that, before we were enamored of them, we were terrified of their presence. It rattles the nerves and leaves behind a lingering sensation of unease. ...more
