If you ever hear me say “Oh, I’m not really into the whole vampire thing,” feel free to smack me. I don’t know why I say it; it’s probably because I don’t dress in black or wear fake fangs (much) but as I was reading Poppy Z. Brite’s Lost Souls, I kept comparing it to other vampire books.
It turns out I’ve read a pile of them: Anne Rice of course; but also Stephen King (most everybody’s heard of Salem’s Lot, but there’s also a great short story in the Gunslinger universe called “The Little Sisters of Eluria”); the first book in Charlaine Harris’ Southern Vampire series (I like the show way better – True Blood, in case you weren’t aware); Neil Gaiman’s short stories (although he put aside writing a vampire novel because he thinks we’ve got enough of them as is (huge shame)); the first book in Kim Harrison’s Hollows series (I’ll review that one later); and many more. And yes, I’ve even read Twilight, which I both loved and hated, putting me squarely in the middle of that controversy, so nobody can hate me. Or rather everybody can hate me and send nastygrams to my inbox that I will print out and make into paper hats. Either one’s good with me.