(no subject)

[darchildre]

cleolinda is currently reading and recapping Varney the Vampyre (or the Feast of Blood) and I have been reading those recaps. And now I am torn. Part of me keeps thinking "Hurrah - she is reading it so I don't have to," because Varney the Vampyre (or the Feast of Blood) is like the Mount Everest of trashy 19th century vampire fiction and is immensely long and kinda awful. And part of me thinks "Y'know, you've sort of meant to read that since you were nine and came across a reference to it in one of the numberless books about vampires you read at that age and now is as good a time as any. Also, it is already on your kindle." Because Varney the Vampyre (or the Feast of Blood) is like the Mount Everest of trashy 19th century vampire fiction - it's a hell of a slog, but think how proud you'd be if you managed it.

Also, then you get to tell people that you've read Varney the Vampyre (or the Feast of Blood). Ninety-nine percent of them will look at you like you've grown another head, but that remaining one percent will be extremely impressed.

And the title is ridiculously fun to say. It's almost as good as Hell Comes to Frogtown.

I have been craving vampires the last few days, I think. Usually when that happens, I try to scout around for modern vampire novels that I haven't read that might be satisfying. It hardly ever works. This time, I think that I will try Varney and see if the 19th century does any better. And if that doesn't work, I can try House of the Vampire again, because I liked that one but got distracted in the middle.

...and then I googled House of the Vampire to make sure I got the title right and ended up wandering through "Customers who bought this also bought" on amazon and found Richard Marsh's The Beetle and Marie Corelli's Ziska: The Problem of a Wicked Soul, both of which sound amazing. And which are now on my kindle also.

I have horror-related impulse control problems.

And now, off to my staff meeting!