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Home is where you hang your cape

If a man's home is his castle, then a vampire's castle is his home. Hardly a vampire story passes into fiction without the description of a palace, mansion, or some grandiose house.

Who can forget Jonathan Harker's first sight of Castle Dracula?

"Suddenly, I became conscious of the fact that the driver was in the act of pulling up the horses in the courtyard of a vast ruined castle, from whose tall black windows came no ray of light, and whose broken battlements showed a jagged line against the moon-lit sky" (Stoker 13).

Gone is the time of the folkloric revenant, who passed daylight hours in a water-logged caves or crawled from the graveyard beds at first signs of night. Nowadays, even the vegetarian vampires have a veritable palace, albeit it's made largely of glass, which won't help at all to hide their sparkly skin in the noon-day sun. On the plus side, it's easy to see a mob of angry villagers with torches and processional crosses approaching.

But, before the Cullens decided to prettify vampire imagery, the residence of the vampire was depicted as large, dark, and well-secured. Anne Rice describes countless mansions, palaces, and island fortresses that serve as nighttime dwellings for her immortal characters. The castle may change according to the standard of the time, but her vampires often live well. At times, the image of the vampire is nearly inseparable from the spooky fortress that encloses him.

Even one of the oldest of vampire fictions, Varney the Vampire, touts a large manor as an important issue to the vampire. I'd like to be more specific with this example, but I am not able to wade through the bloated dialogue of that ridiculously long penny-dreadful looking for an acceptable quote to back my claim, at the moment. So, take my word for it, or read it yourself.

"Why is Ana so busy?" You may ask...and inevitably someone will.

I'd like to respond, "Writing little blog articles to explain the intricacies of vampiric existence is not the most entertaining or important use of my time", but I should refrain. So, I will tell you that relocation has rendered me too busy to re-read the melodramatic series in the hope of finding the source of the vampire castle. Yes, I have relocated, and that is precisely my point.

You see, castles are horribly impractical for the vampire. Limelight living is not something for which vampires aspire. Let's face it, ostentatious dwellings draw attention. I know. We've all met Sunday drivers who decide to pass their time gawking at and yearning for the homes of the rich as they drive two miles per hour through residential streets. Who wants this sort of attention? Frankly, I don't.

Anyway, once a vampire has hung around the neighborhood long enough, the locals will notice strange habits and feel snubbed by the repetitious refusal of dinner party invitations. All this doesn't even consider the expected life-cycle of a human. Moving away for half a century only to return, claiming to be the grandchild and namesake of the previous occupant, won't work. Why?--paperwork.

Boil it all down, and I'd prefer a cozy little crypt over a palace. But, since graveyards are full of decaying bodies, I'll settle for an inconspicuous little hovel with thick walls and a low security deposit--just in case I have to skip town in a hurry.

Oh, and obliging landlords with few questions certainly make things easier.

Greetings,
Ana

Night Vision

"According to Abraham Van Helsing, the voice of authority on vampires in Dracula, the vampire can see in the dark" (Melton 755). This little perk of vampirism comes in handy as the blood-drinker lurks in a shadowy recess waiting for his prey to stumble by him.

Vampiric night vision is a logical assumption, "because vampires [are] nocturnal creatures who [move] freely in the darkness of the evening hours" (755). In order to feel comfortable and secure a creature should be able to use all available senses, so a vampire must be able to see at night. But, let's be honest, you can see at night, too. You just can't see very well.

Nocturnal creatures cannot perceive an environment that is totally dark, either, unless they employ another means of navigation. The bat, for instance, uses sonar. The viper utilizes infrared. Often the vampire is compared to both of these creatures, but can a vampire truly see when the world is devoid of light?

Before we continue further, I will admit that I have rather poor eyesight. I mean, it's probably still better than yours, but I shouldn't brag. Once again, I am an unreliable source of information. My eyes are not equipped with infrared sensors, x-ray emitters, or sonar receivers...but, I really wish that they were; that'd be cool.

Anyway, let's examine what fiction and folklore have to say. Then, we'll discuss the scenario as I...ahem...see it.

In folklore, vampires emerge at night, and in some tales cannot withstand the solar rays. However, vampires are rarely afforded a narrative voice in folklore, and we cannot assume that they possess heightened night-vision just because they are nocturnal.

So, we'll turn to fiction. Certainly, Stoker bestows keen nocturnal sight on his undead characters. Human narrators describe dark scenes through which the vampire navigates flawlessly. In more modern fiction, nearly always vampires are ascribed preternatural sight, including powerful night-vision.

Nina Auerbach points out that Rice's vampires "do little, but they are superb spectators. When they are not killing, they flex their highly developed vampire sight" (154). Not only do Rice's vampires see well in very low light, but they also see well in illuminated scenes. Louis notes how his vision changes--he sees the world through new, vampiric eyes--when he transforms from human to vampire. Armand, as Amadeo, records how lights glow brighter after his death, and paintings seem to come alive. Colors are also bolder, and patterns are more distinguished.

When I argue with Anne Rice, readers of my blog become disgruntled. You'll be happy to know that I'm not contradicting your vampire-guru author...well, I'm not contradicting her overtly, anyway. Vampiric vision relies on acute perception, which is sensing and mentally translating the environment, instead of sonar, infrared, or any other seemingly magical catalyst of night vision. Vampires are nocturnal and are therefore more accustomed to the dark version of the world than diurnal humans. Looming shadows fail to startle the vampire, who realizes that they are nothing more than inanimate objects. Small movements register sharply in the peripherals of the vampire's vision, and he knows to react to these tremors.

So, does a vampire have night vision? Of course, he does. And, unlike you, he understands what he sees.


See you soon,
Ana

Note: Hey, it could be worse. I could have babbled on about the natural bleaching of rods and cones and the regeneration cycles of cells...just think about that.

Sources:
Auerbach, Nina. Our Vampires.
Melton, J Gordon. Vampire Book.