Welp how come I didn't read this sooner? The story is really good, intriguing, sophisticated, full of all sorts of complications; but I really liked the language, its formality, the old-fashioned vocabulary, providing a verbally induced dive into the mindset of a seemingly vain and arrogant man, high on phantasies of supremacy and revenge. The character's obsessive appeal to a misunderstood, fragmentary past, vividly described as the preparation for a long-promised and insistent trasformation, soon becomes a gloriously horrific crescendo of massive ambiguity: we never really know how to interpret his fixation on blood, even when his fantasies become reality. At some point, especially towards the end, I felt overwhelmed by the barrage of stimulating imagery, occasionally triggering experiences of so-called "mind vortexes": emotional rollercoasters, whose specific meaning is always postponed, ambiguous pictures whose precise content is never resolved, even when the reader is crashing (pun intended!) into a totally unexpected ending. This unmatched linguistic promiscuity is attuned perfectly to the multi-causal portrayal of the main character's thirst for blood. Admittedly, this may not work for everyone: the lack of humor, the always implicit sexual intensity, the seriousness of the grotesqueries populating the story, may create a sense of uncomfortable intimacy with the reader, making it hard for the author's choices to resonate with them. That said, it's rare to find a narrative of one's conversion into a monster transcribed so well into opaque, linguistic otherness. What an achievement!