The Strain Trilogy is comprised of three separate volumes published between 2009 and 2011: The Strain (2009); The Fall (2010); and The Night Eternal (2011). Written by Guillermo del Toro and Chuck Hogan, it chronicles a vampiric takeover of the world and the efforts of a band of humans to resist.
The trilogy as a whole is entertaining. Certainly not with great literary quality but it will make, under Guillermo del Toro’s direction, a heart-stopping movie. The writing is not bad. I presume that the primary author is Chuck Hogan; and, based only on the one novel of his that I have read, Prince of Thieves, he is talented. As in Prince of Thieves, the action in the trilogy is charged, breathless and easy to follow. All three books are quick reads that will keep you turning pages to the last.
Here is the real strength of the trilogy. The vampires—creations, I assume, from the imagination of Guillermo del Toro—are great. They look as vampires should look. They act as vampires should act. No handsome men or beautiful women romancing here. They suck blood and nothing else—preferably type “B”. And they smell bad.
Actually the vampires in the trilogy are not all the same. There is an hierarchy with the Master at the top then the "strigoi" who are linked to the Master telepathically. There are also “feelers”—vampiric children blinded and who scramble on all fours and who are also under the direct control of the Master. This array of the undead makes human existence exceedingly problematic. To be turned is not a pleasant experience. Worms that carry the vampiric virus pass from the vampire to the target through a huge stinger that rolls out of the vampire’s mouth much like a frog’s tongue extends to catch his food. And once turned, the targets loose many of the features that mark them as human: ears, noses, hair, genitals, opaque skin, refined digits. Also, as all vampires starting with Brian Stoker’s Dracula, they don’t react well to silver or to daylight or ultraviolet light.
The Master has some unique characteristics that the "strigoi" lack. He can and has changed bodies: his essence survives body jumps. (This ability has an importance in volume 3.) He, alone, travels with a casket layered with dirt from his home of origin. He thinks, strategizes and reasons. He communicates telepathically. He is fixated on one of the humans, Dr. Eph Goodweather, although it is never clear exactly why.
The band of humans, if the truth be known, is no more attractive in regard to its souls than the vamps, who really don’t have souls. We like them because they are human; and, in short measure by the end of the first volume, they become as agile killing and stalking vampires as Bruce Willis would be if he had a part in the action. The action in volume 3 takes place 2 years after the ending of volume 2. By then, our band of humans is ragged, worn and mal-nourished. One, Dr. Goodweather, a recovering alcoholic, even pops vicodin with regularity. But they barely show their deteriorated or drugged condition when confronting the strigoi: they can take out gaggles of them in short order as if they were in the top of their form. The authors have given humanity’s defenders some back history to flesh them out a bit, although even then we would still not take them home to meet our Moms. They are just not overly loveable as a group or as individuals.
The trilogy is really about action and not people: good versus evil in the broadest brush strokes. And by volume 3 the authors have enfolded the Master into a creation myth rooted in the Judeo-Christian tradition. Turns out there is a God. He just is not pulling the strings as aggressively as one might anticipate. He did, however, have a hand, unwittingly it would seem, in creating vampires. And he eventually intervenes after a fashion, although through a glass darkly.
I presume that there are some loose and dead ends that are never fully explained by the authors but I can’t pull any up as an example. I was tracking several myself, but they were all eventually explained, more or less, by the end of volume 3. I have a sense, however, that the world of The Stain is not as tightly nor sophisticatedly constructed as something Margaret Atwood has done.
Had it not been for Guillermo del Toro’s name on the first entry in the trilogy (I am smitten by his Pam’s Labyrinth), I probably would not have bought the book. With the movie certain to hit the screens, there is no reason to tackle the original text unless you are at the end of your “to read” list or unless you are really looking for an undemanding but page-turning read.