octavia_cade's review against another edition
dark
fast-paced
3.0
Interesting novella, if somewhat flawed. I like the idea - that modern day political upheaval in Eastern Europe has resulted in Dracula being dispossessed of his lands, so he ends up in Mexico City, which has the twin advantages of being highly populated (lots of food!) and possessed of a useless, corrupt legal system... both great advantages to a predator. And as with the original text, a lot of this is filtered through a helpless lawyer, initially employed to procure accommodation for the traveler.
I found it pretty compelling up until the last quarter or so, I think, where it all falls slightly apart for me. I'm not sure why, exactly, except that I found the ending less convincing than the rest of it. Yet thinking of it now, as I write this short review, I wonder if I haven't misinterpreted. The destruction of the lawyer's family - the corruption of it, rather - is simply playing on that existing theme, except this time it's domestic rather than political corruption, as the weaknesses of a grieving parent cause a surviving child to be given up to horror rather than sheltered from it. If so, it's cleverly done, but I think I would have liked to see the political parallels played up a little more in order to really underline the connection... because that domestic corruption could have happened anywhere, so I wonder if the book really utilised its setting to the fullest extent.
I found it pretty compelling up until the last quarter or so, I think, where it all falls slightly apart for me. I'm not sure why, exactly, except that I found the ending less convincing than the rest of it. Yet thinking of it now, as I write this short review, I wonder if I haven't misinterpreted. The destruction of the lawyer's family - the corruption of it, rather - is simply playing on that existing theme, except this time it's domestic rather than political corruption, as the weaknesses of a grieving parent cause a surviving child to be given up to horror rather than sheltered from it. If so, it's cleverly done, but I think I would have liked to see the political parallels played up a little more in order to really underline the connection... because that domestic corruption could have happened anywhere, so I wonder if the book really utilised its setting to the fullest extent.
gusanadelibros's review against another edition
adventurous
dark
mysterious
fast-paced
- Plot- or character-driven? Plot
- Strong character development? No
- Loveable characters? No
- Diverse cast of characters? Yes
- Flaws of characters a main focus? No
3.75
jandi's review against another edition
2.0
Carlos Fuentes reimagina Drácula, en la Ciudad de México, aunque a mi gusto el cambio de escenario y época no es tan tangible. La trama se mueve lentamente, excepto en las últimas páginas, donde se desencadena como torbellino. Hay escenas sumamente grotescas - cual es el punto de la ardilla?
rouge_red's review against another edition
mysterious
medium-paced
2.0
Just didn't do that much for me, not least of all this dude who's talking about how great sex with his wife is.
jacquilynn's review against another edition
4.0
This is it if you want a quick creepy weird read. Did not like the pedophilia parts at all though.
verinen's review
dark
mysterious
tense
fast-paced
- Plot- or character-driven? Plot
- Strong character development? It's complicated
- Loveable characters? It's complicated
- Diverse cast of characters? No
- Flaws of characters a main focus? No
5.0
lizmart88's review against another edition
3.0
A modern yet timeless take on Dracula that is at once a continuation of the age old myth and a satire of Mexican society. Quick read, but it will haunt you for longer :)
trike's review against another edition
2.0
Spoilers ahead, but I'm not going to hide the review. You have been warned.
...
I get what Fuentes was trying to do with this story, but it was far too obvious.
The story has an old-fashioned structure and presentation combined with a more modern sensibility of not shying away from frank depictions of sex, as if H.G. Wells and Anne Rice had a creepily precocious baby who wrote novels in crayon. That combination is sometimes interesting because of the uneasy contrast in tone and subject matter... which is exactly what Fuentes is going for.
Navarro, our narrator, is a lawyer who likes his life. An entire chapter of this short book is devoted to a description of the languorous Mexican breakfasts he shares with his wife and daughter. He speaks of his mannered life, of the pleasant routine he and his wife follow each day, their passionate lovemaking at night, the satisfaction each takes in their work. He at the law firm, she as a real estate agent. They have a devoted cook and housekeeper, and he takes pride in his BMW.
But shadowing this tidy little life is the death of their 12-year-old son, a marvelous young athlete pulled out to sea and drowned by an unseen undertow, an invisible killer lurking beneath the lovely waves.
Which, come on dude, I GET IT. A beautiful scene with dangerous undercurrents? Gee, how will this play out in a novel titled after the most famous vampire of them all?
Exactly as one would expect, of course.
Navarro is charged with facilitating the move from Europe to Mexico City and finding a home for a school chum of his elderly boss. Said friend being Count Vlad who has a 10-year-old daughter, which raises some eyebrows, since the boss is in his 80s. They jest of Viagra. Good thing Navarro's wife is a real estate agent.
So things are creepy as hell and Navarro is uneasy when he finally meets the Count, and he dreams of the monstrously deformed Count Vlad hiding under his bed as he makes sweet, sweet macho love to his devoted wife. He thinks the old guy is odd, what with his insistence that all the windows in his house be blocked off, and a tunnel dug from the cellar to a secret entrance, and drains cut into the marble floors, a photo of his wife and daughter in Count Vlad's armoire... Warning signs best ignored, Navarro seems to think.
After his heroic sexcapades, Navarro uncharacteristically sleeps in until noon. His wife already off to work and their daughter at a friend's house for a birthday party.
None of which is true and unravels quickly (because this is a 112-page novella) and Navarro discovers there wasn't any birthday party and his wife never came home and it probably wasn't a dream that Count Vlad was under his bed. He confronts his elderly boss who reveals that Vlad lied to him, promising eternal youth in exchange for relocating him.
His devoted wife, it turns out, was likewise in cahoots with the Count. She never wants to go through the grief she experienced with the death of their son, so she has offered their daughter as eternal playmate to the Count's immortal "daughter", and offered herself to the Count, escaping from the prison of her boring life with her boring husband. Because the Count knows a woman's weaknesses and exactly how to hurt her in just the ways she loves.
Ugh.
In the hands of better craftsman these revelations would come as a surprise, but they're telegraphed so early that the book feels twice as long as it is. Hitting the gong repeatedly of how naive and dull-witted Navarro is just accentuates that tediously, even through the disguise of the first-person narration.
The revelations hinge on the fact that Navarro is oblivious to his wife's real needs, which would be fine except the idiot never asks the obvious questions. Like, "Why is there a photo of my wife and daughter in your closet, you fucking creep?" This book reminds me of all those bad horror movies where the issue would be solved if any of the people involved would behave sensibly. Don't go outside wearing only a negligee. Don't go into the darkened basement without a flashlight. Don't leave your daughter in the ravine with the child molester and freaky little girl who puts squirrel in their panties.
Oh, wait, that last one happened in this book.
Plus, the ending, which is left unresolved but hints at the fact that the Count brought their dead son back to life. Which is impossible, since he was sucked out to sea, so there's no body to be had. Maybe it's something about wanting to believe in something despite the horror of it, but at this point who cares?
Side note: why do they call bats "blind rats"? Is that a Mexican thing? Some sort of mistranslation? Whatever.
Well, the good news is that I knocked off a book whose title starts with V for my annual reading challenge.
...
I get what Fuentes was trying to do with this story, but it was far too obvious.
The story has an old-fashioned structure and presentation combined with a more modern sensibility of not shying away from frank depictions of sex, as if H.G. Wells and Anne Rice had a creepily precocious baby who wrote novels in crayon. That combination is sometimes interesting because of the uneasy contrast in tone and subject matter... which is exactly what Fuentes is going for.
Navarro, our narrator, is a lawyer who likes his life. An entire chapter of this short book is devoted to a description of the languorous Mexican breakfasts he shares with his wife and daughter. He speaks of his mannered life, of the pleasant routine he and his wife follow each day, their passionate lovemaking at night, the satisfaction each takes in their work. He at the law firm, she as a real estate agent. They have a devoted cook and housekeeper, and he takes pride in his BMW.
But shadowing this tidy little life is the death of their 12-year-old son, a marvelous young athlete pulled out to sea and drowned by an unseen undertow, an invisible killer lurking beneath the lovely waves.
Which, come on dude, I GET IT. A beautiful scene with dangerous undercurrents? Gee, how will this play out in a novel titled after the most famous vampire of them all?
Exactly as one would expect, of course.
Navarro is charged with facilitating the move from Europe to Mexico City and finding a home for a school chum of his elderly boss. Said friend being Count Vlad who has a 10-year-old daughter, which raises some eyebrows, since the boss is in his 80s. They jest of Viagra. Good thing Navarro's wife is a real estate agent.
So things are creepy as hell and Navarro is uneasy when he finally meets the Count, and he dreams of the monstrously deformed Count Vlad hiding under his bed as he makes sweet, sweet macho love to his devoted wife. He thinks the old guy is odd, what with his insistence that all the windows in his house be blocked off, and a tunnel dug from the cellar to a secret entrance, and drains cut into the marble floors, a photo of his wife and daughter in Count Vlad's armoire... Warning signs best ignored, Navarro seems to think.
After his heroic sexcapades, Navarro uncharacteristically sleeps in until noon. His wife already off to work and their daughter at a friend's house for a birthday party.
None of which is true and unravels quickly (because this is a 112-page novella) and Navarro discovers there wasn't any birthday party and his wife never came home and it probably wasn't a dream that Count Vlad was under his bed. He confronts his elderly boss who reveals that Vlad lied to him, promising eternal youth in exchange for relocating him.
His devoted wife, it turns out, was likewise in cahoots with the Count. She never wants to go through the grief she experienced with the death of their son, so she has offered their daughter as eternal playmate to the Count's immortal "daughter", and offered herself to the Count, escaping from the prison of her boring life with her boring husband. Because the Count knows a woman's weaknesses and exactly how to hurt her in just the ways she loves.
Ugh.
In the hands of better craftsman these revelations would come as a surprise, but they're telegraphed so early that the book feels twice as long as it is. Hitting the gong repeatedly of how naive and dull-witted Navarro is just accentuates that tediously, even through the disguise of the first-person narration.
The revelations hinge on the fact that Navarro is oblivious to his wife's real needs, which would be fine except the idiot never asks the obvious questions. Like, "Why is there a photo of my wife and daughter in your closet, you fucking creep?" This book reminds me of all those bad horror movies where the issue would be solved if any of the people involved would behave sensibly. Don't go outside wearing only a negligee. Don't go into the darkened basement without a flashlight. Don't leave your daughter in the ravine with the child molester and freaky little girl who puts squirrel in their panties.
Oh, wait, that last one happened in this book.
Plus, the ending, which is left unresolved but hints at the fact that the Count brought their dead son back to life. Which is impossible, since he was sucked out to sea, so there's no body to be had. Maybe it's something about wanting to believe in something despite the horror of it, but at this point who cares?
Side note: why do they call bats "blind rats"? Is that a Mexican thing? Some sort of mistranslation? Whatever.
Well, the good news is that I knocked off a book whose title starts with V for my annual reading challenge.