Why Does the South Inspire Vampire Writers?

I'm at the World Horror Conference 2015. Tonight I was on a discussion panel, the topic Weird South: I Will Never Go Hungry Again: Why are So Many Contemporary Vampire Novels Set in the South?

Good Question!

My fellow panelists were:

• Charlaine Harris, a native Southerner and author of the Sookie Stackhouse vampire series on which the TV hit True Blood was based. Her latest novel is Dayshift, the second in her new Midnight Texas series.
• Dacre Stoker, co-author of Dracula, the Un-dead (a sequel to Dracula , written by his great-grand uncle, Bram Stoker) and co-author of an England/Romania travel guide. A Southerner by marriage, his wife is from Charleston, South Carolina.
• Carl Alves, author of Blood Street, a vampire mobster blood feud novel set in Philadelphia.
• Jess Peacock, author of Such a Dark Thing, a theology of the vampire narrative in popular culture.
• Andrew Greenberg, one of White Wolf's original game developers on Vampire: The Masquerade -- and a Southerner.
• And me! Author of Bloodroom and The Bad Death, vampire novels set in South Carolina -- and a damned yankee (a yankee who stayed, since I was 11 years old).

Ok, what is it about the South that inspires vampire writers? Charlaine Harris pointed out that the South is often economically depressed; really chronically depressed, and that people in peril develop rich, supernatural beliefs to explain the unpredictability of the human experience. (Charlaine doesn't really speak this way; this is me paraphrasing her. She's much more plain spoken, charming, and funny. When describing Southern traditions, such as "the nice lie", her turn of phrase made us and the audience laugh out loud.) Dacre Stoker compared Romania to the Southeast US, in that their cultures were infused and enriched by immigrants over the centuries -- Romania by Romans, Turks, Romany gypsies, and Europeans; and the South by Scots, Irish, Native Americans, Africans, French, and West Indians -- and suggested that the influx of so many different cultures brought a crazy quilt of legends. Andrew Greenberg stressed that the influx of cultures did not make the South a melting pot; rather these cultures, by not blending, created tension that results in legends built (as all good novels are) on conflict and tragedy (and sometimes, though rarely, triumph). Jess Peacock built on this idea, emphasizing the vampire as the Other; an invading entity that is foreign, mysterious, dangerous, and tempting; saying that Southerners' clannish nature identifies anyone whose great-grandparents weren't born in the South as a suspicious Other. (I can attest that this is true -- after living here for 25 years, they'd still say to me, "You're not from around here, are you?") Carl Alves suggested that the Southern personality itself -- reckless, passionate, and romantic -- embodies the traditional vampire mystique. He invited us to imagine Bram Stoker's Dracula coming of age and being turned into a vampire in urban London instead of isolated, exotic Romania (Transylvania). It would have been a completely different novel! I suggested that the vampire's obsession with his (or her) prey -- that hypnotic, relentless, possessive hunger -- mirrored the South's climate and nature, its vibe. There is something about the South that gets inside you, clings and holds you, just as the Kudzu vine grows until it completely covers the building in its clutches, pulling it to the ground in the span of a few years. I have found that the South, though maddening in many ways, has wound itself around my heart. I will probably never move away. Like a vampire, the South is beguiling, entrancing, and seductive. There are logical reasons to run from a vampire, but logic can't hold out against his allure.

Why do you think the South is so inspiring to vampire writers?

Ballet Pensacola's Dracula

My brother and I attended the 7PM Saturday performance of Dracula, performed by Ballet Pensacola. It was a fresh take on the story and beautifully choreographed by the Ballet's Artistic Director, Richard Steinert. It began with a trap door opening in the stage floor. From this void, two "creatures" (Dustin Simmons and Kristopher Williams) extended limbs that appeared to be multi-jointed and literally coming to life from some long-dormant state. The effect of Lance Brannon's lighting on their musculature was dramatic in contrast to an otherwise dark stage. Their dance was strong and masculine, but graceful and modern. Throughout the production -- as if the creatures' evolution never progressed beyond the demon realm, their movements were always weirdly contorted. This was a wonderful counterpoint to the delicate, classical ballet danced by Kristen Springer and Kayla Bartlett in their roles as Lucy and Mina.

Following the creatures' emergence, "bats" crawled out of the open space in the floor until thirteen filled the stage. The bats, Ballet Pensacola's corps, were ingeniously costumed by Christine Duhon. Their sleek hair was parted in the middle; their leotards were patterned in an op-art check like something from an Escher drawing and had sleeves that were puffed above the elbow. They wore large pointed black belts and slim black trousers that flared from the knees. According to the choreography, the bats movements looked mechanical or flowing a la classical ballet and the full sleeves or the fluid hems helped create that impression. Ranks of bats dove in and out of each other, filling the stage. It was wonderful.

Dracula's brides were Goth chicks with cherry red hair and black skirts that hung in funereal strips over black leggings. Tyler Day's Dracula was lithe, dominant, and seductive. I loved the pas de trois where Samuel Joseph Mounce's Harker danced to save Mina from Dracula. Dracula's pas de deux with Lucy, culminating with his bite was sensual and romantic. Later, the creatures' attack on Lucy was an altogether different dance, a choreographed act of brutality. This was a very interesting ballet, by turns sensual or perverse, romantic or violent.

A dominant feature of Lance Brannon's set design was a steampunk conglomeration of cogs and wheels. The trapdoor led to an underground mausoleum with coffins and oven-style cypts like you see in New Orleans' multi-tombs. The storyline broke from Stoker's novel, but I won't tell you how -- just in case they perform it next year. I hope Ballet Pensacola will repeat Dracula as a Halloween tradition, just as The Nutcracker is for Christmas. If so, don't miss it.