While visiting the ghost town of Sagebrush Flats with his family and two friends in search of something to grease his writing wheels, professional horror writer Larry Dunbar stumbles across something in an abandoned sub-basement that makes even his friend Pete's cast-iron stomach do flip-flops: the mummified corpse of a nude, long-dead young woman pinned to her coffin by a wooden stake driven through her heart.
The trip is cut short for obvious reasons, but Larry finds something compelling about the dead girl. Whoever she was, the person who ended her life clearly thought she was a vampire. It's an utterly ridiculous notion, of course -- this is modern-day 20th century America, after all, not 17th century Romania -- but Larry can't get the girl out of his head. It's almost like she's steering him, guiding his thoughts, and pushing him towards something he can't quite understand. Now putting his talents as a researcher to work, Larry begins burning the midnight oil in pursuit of the truth. It's a quest that will drive him to the brink of sanity, his wife to the brink of divorce, and his friends to the brink of ostracizing him. He's even ignoring Lane, his teenage daughter, who's just coming into her own as a woman and needs the guidance of a father now more than ever as she navigates the treacherous waters of high school.
Despite this, nothing can dissuade Larry from his mission and the question lying at the heart of it all: if the dead girl was a vampire, what would happen if he pulled out the stake...?
Even in 1990, vampires were getting a little long in the fang for the horror genre. Everybody working in horror churned out at least one novel about the bloodsucking fiends thanks to the success of Anne Rice's book about the immortal bayou-dwelling angst bags, and Stephen King's novel of ancient evil arriving on the shores of 20th century America. It's no shocker Laymon followed suit as the guy knew the trends of the day, but Laymon was never one content to just follow a trend for the sake of doing so. Like many of the genre tropes, Laymon wanted to tack his own page on to the vampire mythos. The only possible way to pull that off in 1990 was to write a vampire story so utterly unique that no critic could trash it for copying somebody else. That's just what he set out to do, and in my opinion, he succeeded beyond anything I could have expected.
Vampire stories are intrinsically fascinating for a multitude of reasons, not least of which is the metaphysical lore which has sprung up in the aftermath of accounts both fictional and allegedly-true. The Vampire was the urban legend of its day: its powers and weaknesses and abilities changed and mutated depending on what region of the world you heard the story told, but cultures on every continent developed folklore about immortal beings feasting on the living to avoid the finality of death. Dracula is perhaps the most well-known, but literature surrounding the creatures can be traced back 80 years prior to the publication of Stoker's novel.
So how does Laymon's book differentiate itself from nearly two centuries of stories, poems, films, radio drams, and novels dealing with this supernatural terror of the night? Ingeniously. Of all the vampire stories I've read, Laymon's was the first, and so far only, one to make the reader question not only who the vampire might be, but also whether there's even a vampire after all, and if so, whether we should even care when plenty of human monsters already walk freely among us in daylight.
I mentioned the grief many readers gave Laymon over his writing in my review of The Cellar, with the most commonly-leveled charge being he was an amateur hack who didn't know what he was doing. While The Cellar went out of its way to disguise Laymon's talent and the game he was playing with his audience, The Stake does nothing of the sort. Yes, it contains plenty of his trademark obsession with breasts and penchant for describing intimate encounters and violent confrontations with equal glee, but I sincerely do not see how anyone can read The Stake and conclude anything other than that he handled vampires, the hoariest trope in all of horror-dom, with the kind of aplomb and jaw-dropping elegance one could only expect from a master.
What's more, there's so much of Laymon himself in protagonist Larry Dunbar, it's like getting a peek inside Laymon's psyche. Like Laymon, Dunbar is a horror writer. Larry's married with a teenage daughter, same as Laymon was married to his wife Anne and had his own teenage daughter, Kelly. Dunbar deals with lunkheaded line editors, ludicrous deadlines on rewrites, sacrifices family time for his work, and even complains about how his second book nearly destroyed his writing career. These were all things Laymon himself struggled with and through, so when we see Larry writing out notes in a short, punchy, diary style on his word processor, all dated for later reference, it's safe to assume an analog to the way Laymon himself would brainstorm. Even Dunbar's admonition to his daughter that she mustn't read anything he's written until she's 35, coupled with her confession to her English teacher that she's already read everything daddy's had published has a ring of truth to it.
The Stake, besides being a horror novel, is at its heart a Shaggy Dog style balancing act. One chapter, the reader will be convinced vampires are real, but by the next you'll wonder if Laymon somehow managed to write the first piece of vampire fiction featuring exactly zero goddamn vampires (or if the one he's focusing on is just a distraction).
Did he? I'm not going to spoil it either way: pick the book up and find out for yourself.
This climax-delaying foreplay, this long-running game of "is she or isn't she", is the crux of what makes The Stake so memorable years after I first read it twenty years ago. It's a question the protagonist struggles with over and over during the course of the story, as the evidence both for and against is all entirely circumstantial. The point Laymon's trying to make with the book ultimately, I feel, has nothing at all to do with the existence of vampires. The Stake is a novel of obsession, questions, and warnings. Because his focus is so narrowly deployed on the question of whether or not he's got a real vampire in his attic, Larry Dunbar fails to see the warning signs that something awful, and 100% real, threatens his daughter. Worrying about the fictional causes dire consequences for the rest of his family and friends, and that seems to be Laymon's ultimate point: don't waste time on nonsense at the expense of reality.
As the father of a young woman himself at the time of this story's publication, I can't help but wonder if writing The Stake helped Laymon ground himself in some sense, reminding him to be wary of the dangers real life holds and not get caught up in the allure of fantasy, whether that's his own fiction, vampires, or something else entirely. He's not around for me to ask, so I guess I'll never know for sure, but knowing what I do of him, I can't help but think this story allowed him to exorcise some of his own fears and worries. 'Hack amateur' my ass. Five blood-drenched coffins out of five for this work of supernatural (or is it?) suspense.