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Dracula: The Reproduction of History and the UnDead Myth
Bram Stoker’s Dracula is undoubtedly a goldmine for literary interpretation, and indeed, to say the literature on the subject is extensive is a gross understatement. From popular psychoanalytical readings, to the less common, but by no means exhaustive historical interpretations, Dracula has undergone such vivisection, and been distilled to an extent that almost makes further writing superfluous. Yet as critics interpret the text from a variety of angles relating to their interest or area of expertise, I intend to examine how, rather than why, the novel itself interacts with its various sources and is a commentary on the reproduction of history (in its fundamental definition as story) and myth. Both the book itself and the narrative style, through the characters’ respective documentary-like accounts, are vampiric. They absorb information and reiterate it in reinvented form, ensuring what Dracula himself fails: continuity.
Dracula, the novel written by Stoker at the turn of the century, is an authentic reproduction. It is authentic in that it is the product of Stoker’s own imagination, put down in his own words and for a personal purpose, whether that purpose be as simple as entertainment, or as complex as a commentary on sexuality or imperial decadence. The book is, more importantly - as Stoker was fully aware and arguably purposeful - a reproduction or copy. What is copied in the process of creating this book (and any, for that matter), can be analysed from a variety of angles. I do not mean to say or even imply plagiarism, but rather, adaptation.
Primarily, Dracula reproduces, as Stephen Arata argues, both the Gothic genre and the Victorian travel narrative, and as the word adaptation connotes, it changes them within this amalgamation. Jonathan Harker’s journal at the beginning of the novel works in many ways as an Oriental adventure, colourfully detailing an exotic setting, the Transylvanian Carpathians, and foreign cultures, train schedule included. This narrative form is blended into the gothic atmosphere of Castle Dracula, amidst dark forests and mysterious superstition. However, as the story abruptly shifts focus from the pre-modern European country to contemporary England, the gothic elements are retained. The story continues to be gothic in genre, but the setting is familiar rather than exotic, to the effect of making the narrative all the more powerful. In this amalgamation of literary genres, Stoker uses the body of his book much in the way that Lucy Westerna’s body is used in Dracula. Whereas in the nove,l Lucy’s veins are the vessels wherein her own blood is mixed with that of her four donors (and Dracula’s, if one assumes Lucy had received a similar baptism by blood as Mina) in order that she be revived or life reproduced in her, a similar process occurs in Stoker’s narrative technique. In this case, the book itself is the vessel into which various literary forms and tropes are introduced, copied and combined to produce a new form of gothic, what Kathleen L. Spencer calls the “Urban Gothic.” This process is not uncommon and in fact occurs with any worthwhile author, as literature is a fluid domain, constantly evolving and adapting. What Stoker does with Dracula is part of this evolution of storytelling and story, especially as he is directly involved in the evolution of one particular myth, that of Dracula and vampirism.
All stories need to evolve in order to survive, and not unlike Darwinian theory, ancient myth has survived for modern audiences through the process of copying. Adaptation is, however the more accurate term, as every author reiterating mythology has treated their subject matter in way that is relevant to them and their particular moment, transcribing a story that is adapted through their own historical and cultural lens. After such multiple reproductions, the original myth may of may not even remain in tact, or even the same in any respect. However, while a common fundamental aspect remains underlying all the variations, the myth can be said to have endured. This precise process occurs in Stoker’s Dracula. The novel is but another incarnation of a myth that has endured in local folklore, and in a way history. As Daniel Glover comments, this process is mirrored by Dracula, as:
“The vampire continues to reproduce himself in a seemingly endless series of copies, always resourcefully different from previous incarnations, frequently altering the rules of the game to ensure a new lease on life without being finally laid to rest. This protean durability of the undead is undoubtably [sic] what confers true immortality on them, and it is also what qualifies their incessant return as myths…”
The vampire myth returns because authors such as Stokes and his fellow Irishman, Sheridan Le Fanu, re-invoke the image of this fascinating creature and adapt it to make sense in contemporary settings. In Dracula, Bacil Kirtley argues, Bram Stoker draws heavily on the local folklore of the Carpathian horseshoe, especially the Monastic Chronicles of the Russian monastery at Kirill-Belozersk. The chronicles outline the history of a now infamous (thanks in part to Stoker) local warlord, Vlad Ţepeş, transliterated as Vlad the Impaler. It is believed that he is the model, and indeed the identity of Dracula, and Stoker certainly uses some of the stories in the chronicles to characterize his villain. However, while Stoker is vampiric in his absorption of eastern European history and culture, especially as Kirtley argues, of the Russian Monastic Chronicles of 1486, he does not reiterate local Transylvanian history or legend. Stoker merely copies parts of folklore, adapting it to fit his needs in relation to British and Irish societies. Indeed, critics such as Stephen Arata and Raphael Ingelbien argue extensively on a British decadent and Irish ascendant historical reading respectively, that is allegorical rather that literal. These interpretations, and many others, are plausible, as I seek only to argue that Stoker uses these absorbed elements to create a new myth rather than reiterate an old one. The result may be the preservation of Transylvanian folklore, but not necessarily the intention.
This vampiric literary process is reproduced in the novel itself. Whereas Stoker is the vampiric entity that absorbs the essence of stories in the novel writing process, in Dracula, Mina Harker, Dracula’s victim and near vampire herself in mythological terms, becomes vampiric in literary ones. Her role is in some ways similar to Stoker, as she collects the various diaries and letters, absorbing their content in reproducing them in typewritten copies. The comparison to Dracula here is also unmistakable. As the vampire reproduces himself in various non-identical copies by absorbing the blood of his victims, so Mina produces literary copies by internalizing the experiences of others.
Through this process of reproductive adaptation, both Stoker and Mina aid in the propagation of a particular story, changing it in content (in the way of its author) and in form, but retaining that grain of the original. The vampire myth is the one that Stoker as writer and Mina as copyist engage with and refine, in turn creating a new tradition in the chain of vampiric lore. To the modern audience, it is their works that originate that coherent concept manifested today as the pale skinned, sharp toothed, cape wearing vampire. Perhaps Todd Browning and Bela Lugosi had more to do with the cape and cheesy accent than Stoker himself, but their film, alongside numerous others, is once more an adaptation of Stoker’s story, presented in a new medium. The 1931 movie, Dracula shows the cyclical nature of stories, and their evolution not only at the drive of the storyteller, but also compelled and altered by the medium of transmission.
This reproduction of the original into inexact copies leads to the preservation of myth or story to a certain extent, but more importantly it aids in the destruction of the original. Like Dracula’s victims, who lose their characteristic selves in vampiric transformation, so does the literary reproduction of myth erase stories in their original incarnations. As each author over the generations relates a story in their own particular adaptation, fewer and fewer of the original facts remain. A good example of this (though bad movie) is the third installment of David Goyer’s Blade trilogy, in which the final stage of vampire fiction evolution results in a creature that resembles Stoker’s Dracula in absolutely no respect. Likewise, however, Stoker’s version of the vampiric myth draws on sources that have long since gone out of use, and do not necessarily portray the same creature. In thus displacing his sources, Stoker himself becomes the progenitor of the Dracula myth in modern times. In similar fashion, in the novel, the original primary evidence is destroyed, leaving behind, as Jonathan Harker observes, “hardly one authentic document.” The typewritten copies of Mina are all that remains. They are now the source of the story, displacing the epistolary narratives of all involved.
To ensure his immortality, his continuity throughout the ages, Dracula consumes the blood of his victims and reproduces himself in vampiric copies. Not unlike the notorious vampire, Bram Stoker himself uses similar means for literary longevity. Through the absorption of folklore and history, the author produces a novel that is both a new creation and reproduction of earlier mythology. Stoker did not invent the vampire lore, but his novel proved a renaissance for the myth that to this day continues to fascinate and evolve. Dracula himself may have failed to achieve literal immortality, but through Stoker he achieved something much greater, literary and artistic immortality.
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