By Paul Carrier
Dracula is the stuff of legend, popularized (if that’s the right word) by the likes of Bram Stoker in his 1897 novel and Bela Lugosi in a 1931 film, as well as countless other movies, plays, TV shows and books.
But what if Stoker's vampire, or some version of him, was real? And what if he still walks (or flies or shape-shifts) among us?
That’s the premise that Elizabeth Kostova explores in The Historian, a densely packed and intricate novel that is not so much a horror story as a suspenseful update rooted in an otherwise realistic, recognizable 20th century. The historical thriller features investigators who find evidence that points to the existence of the undead, led by one vampire in particular: the 15h-century Romanian prince Vlad the Impaler. Like Stoker’s Dracula, Kostova’s tale is epistolary, using letters from major characters to propel the plot.
Part of what makes the novel compelling is that the protagonists are well-educated men and women (and a precocious teenage girl) who are rational, in no way delusional, and fully cognizant of the fact that believing in vampires is illogical. "I wanted to write an adventure story in which the heroes were not Indiana Jones but scholars: librarians, archivists, historians,” Kostova said in a 2005 interview with The Guardian. (The novel was first published that year.)
The Historian opens in 1972 when the narrator, an unnamed 16-year-old girl who has been raised by her American father, Paul, finds a cache of letters in their Amsterdam home. Written at Oxford University in 1930, the letters are addressed to “My dear and unfortunate successor.” They detail the writer’s interrupted research into vampirism, past and present, including the fate of Vlad and his supposedly fictional counterpart, Dracula.
The letters were written by Professor Bartholomew Rossi, who went on to serve as Paul's mentor in the 1950s, when Rossi taught at the American university where Paul was a graduate student. When Paul discovers a baffling book in the university library containing an ancient image of a dragon carrying a banner that reads “Drakulya,” he shows it to Rossi, who then reveals that he found a similar book decades earlier. It's that book that prompted Rossi to begin his research, which is summarized in the letters to his "successor," Paul.
Soon after Rossi shares his research with Paul, Rossi disappears under frightening circumstances; blood is found in his now-vacant office, including on the ceiling. Paul sets out to find Rossi with the help of Rossi’s daughter, Helen, a fellow graduate student. Their travels, which range far afield, account for the bulk of the narrative. Paul recalls their search decades later, first in a series of conversations with his daughter and then, after Paul too disappears in the 1970s, in letters that he left behind for her before he vanished.
The narrator learns that her father has run off in search of her mother, who was presumed dead. So we have three related timelines: the 1930s, when Rossi conducted his research on vampires; the 1950s, when Paul and Helen tried to track down Rossi and Dracula; and the 1970s, when Paul’s daughter and a companion seek the recently vanished Paul, who now has reason to believe his wife may still be alive.
Other copies of the mesmerizing dragon image turn up, and further research suggests that the dragon is, in fact, a representation of a map that indicates where Vlad was buried in the 15th century. He supposedly is interred in Romania, but the contours of the dragon map do not correspond to Vlad’s purported burial site. Was Vlad actually buried elsewhere? France, perhaps? Istanbul? Or Bulgaria? If he survives to this day as a vampire, does he “live” in that unknown location? Has Rossi been kidnapped and taken there? And what is Paul’s destination as he searches for his wife, who may have planned a fateful meeting with Dracula?
The cruelty of the historical Vlad, some of which is recounted here, is no secret, but The Historian also explains Vlad’s prominence as a military leader who vigorously opposed the Ottoman Empire’s expansion into his territory. Kostova weaves strands from various genres into her narrative, which explores Eastern European history and offers readers a travelogue of sorts as the protagonists crisscross several countries.
When one character catches a flight from Istanbul to Budapest, he finds “something vastly mysterious” about the changes along the route, “from the Islamic world to the Christian, from the Ottoman to the Austro-Hungarian . . . . It is a gradation of towns, of architecture, of gradually receding minarets blended with the advancing church domes, of the very look of forest and riverbank, so that little by little you begin to believe you can read in nature itself the saturation of history.” The novel has many such evocative descriptions of intriguing locales.
"It's a very long book. It's a very detailed book,” Kostova said in that interview with The Guardian. “It’s in an epic Victorian tradition. It's slow. I like to think that it's readable but it's not an hour's read.”
At 642-pages in hardcover, it takes a lot longer than an hour to wade through The Historian, which drags in spots as ancient documents turn up peripatetic medieval monks who traverse great distances on mystifying quests. But Kostova offers up thrills and bloody spills to keep us turning the pages at a fast pace, as our heroes seek — and ultimately find — the undead prince.
But what if Stoker's vampire, or some version of him, was real? And what if he still walks (or flies or shape-shifts) among us?
That’s the premise that Elizabeth Kostova explores in The Historian, a densely packed and intricate novel that is not so much a horror story as a suspenseful update rooted in an otherwise realistic, recognizable 20th century. The historical thriller features investigators who find evidence that points to the existence of the undead, led by one vampire in particular: the 15h-century Romanian prince Vlad the Impaler. Like Stoker’s Dracula, Kostova’s tale is epistolary, using letters from major characters to propel the plot.
Part of what makes the novel compelling is that the protagonists are well-educated men and women (and a precocious teenage girl) who are rational, in no way delusional, and fully cognizant of the fact that believing in vampires is illogical. "I wanted to write an adventure story in which the heroes were not Indiana Jones but scholars: librarians, archivists, historians,” Kostova said in a 2005 interview with The Guardian. (The novel was first published that year.)
The Historian opens in 1972 when the narrator, an unnamed 16-year-old girl who has been raised by her American father, Paul, finds a cache of letters in their Amsterdam home. Written at Oxford University in 1930, the letters are addressed to “My dear and unfortunate successor.” They detail the writer’s interrupted research into vampirism, past and present, including the fate of Vlad and his supposedly fictional counterpart, Dracula.
The letters were written by Professor Bartholomew Rossi, who went on to serve as Paul's mentor in the 1950s, when Rossi taught at the American university where Paul was a graduate student. When Paul discovers a baffling book in the university library containing an ancient image of a dragon carrying a banner that reads “Drakulya,” he shows it to Rossi, who then reveals that he found a similar book decades earlier. It's that book that prompted Rossi to begin his research, which is summarized in the letters to his "successor," Paul.
Soon after Rossi shares his research with Paul, Rossi disappears under frightening circumstances; blood is found in his now-vacant office, including on the ceiling. Paul sets out to find Rossi with the help of Rossi’s daughter, Helen, a fellow graduate student. Their travels, which range far afield, account for the bulk of the narrative. Paul recalls their search decades later, first in a series of conversations with his daughter and then, after Paul too disappears in the 1970s, in letters that he left behind for her before he vanished.
The narrator learns that her father has run off in search of her mother, who was presumed dead. So we have three related timelines: the 1930s, when Rossi conducted his research on vampires; the 1950s, when Paul and Helen tried to track down Rossi and Dracula; and the 1970s, when Paul’s daughter and a companion seek the recently vanished Paul, who now has reason to believe his wife may still be alive.
Other copies of the mesmerizing dragon image turn up, and further research suggests that the dragon is, in fact, a representation of a map that indicates where Vlad was buried in the 15th century. He supposedly is interred in Romania, but the contours of the dragon map do not correspond to Vlad’s purported burial site. Was Vlad actually buried elsewhere? France, perhaps? Istanbul? Or Bulgaria? If he survives to this day as a vampire, does he “live” in that unknown location? Has Rossi been kidnapped and taken there? And what is Paul’s destination as he searches for his wife, who may have planned a fateful meeting with Dracula?
The cruelty of the historical Vlad, some of which is recounted here, is no secret, but The Historian also explains Vlad’s prominence as a military leader who vigorously opposed the Ottoman Empire’s expansion into his territory. Kostova weaves strands from various genres into her narrative, which explores Eastern European history and offers readers a travelogue of sorts as the protagonists crisscross several countries.
When one character catches a flight from Istanbul to Budapest, he finds “something vastly mysterious” about the changes along the route, “from the Islamic world to the Christian, from the Ottoman to the Austro-Hungarian . . . . It is a gradation of towns, of architecture, of gradually receding minarets blended with the advancing church domes, of the very look of forest and riverbank, so that little by little you begin to believe you can read in nature itself the saturation of history.” The novel has many such evocative descriptions of intriguing locales.
"It's a very long book. It's a very detailed book,” Kostova said in that interview with The Guardian. “It’s in an epic Victorian tradition. It's slow. I like to think that it's readable but it's not an hour's read.”
At 642-pages in hardcover, it takes a lot longer than an hour to wade through The Historian, which drags in spots as ancient documents turn up peripatetic medieval monks who traverse great distances on mystifying quests. But Kostova offers up thrills and bloody spills to keep us turning the pages at a fast pace, as our heroes seek — and ultimately find — the undead prince.
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