Oscar Greenberg has some self-described issues. He's Jewish, a poor writer of horror fiction, dating a gentile and, best of all, he's a vampire. I realize that was one of the stranger introductions to a rather obscure graphic novel from 1986, but this is a strange tale. At first, I didn't know if I cared for this at all but the story did grow on me.
We are introduced to J.M. Dematteis' take on the traditional vampire tale- it is anything BUT traditional in his interpretation. These vampires do not drink blood straight from humans (using blood banks, other animals, etc) as their vampiric society deems it to cause undue conflict with the human beings who outnumber them by billions. It also seems as if human beings seem to be aware of the existence of these creatures (reminds me of the relationship you saw in the HBO series True Blood between normal people and vampires) and while not overly trusting, some do get along well. These vampires can turn into bats though they prefer not to and prefer their romantic relationships with the other undead, though there are exceptions. Enter Oscar Greenberg.
Greenberg has written a few novels that were moderately successful, but now suffers from writer's block. He is a Jewish man who seems to suffer from a slight case of the "self-loathing Jew" complex and the particular enclave is that of the Brooklyn Jewish community. Oscar was bitten, in coitus, by his girlfriend Denise and they are in love and a good couple. Most of Oscar's family know he is a vampire, save his mother. Greenberg's nephew, another aspiring writer, is his roommate and close friend. All of this is occurring against the backdrop of a serial killer loose in New York.
Eventually one of Greenberg's novels is considered to be turned into a movie. During the production meetings, Greenberg is introduced to an up and coming teenage actress named Eve. All is not as it seems. More than that I will not spoil.
So this is a strange tale. It has comedic moments and some dark moments. But the essential take is comedic. Oscar Greenberg channels his inner Woody Allen, Stephen King and J.D. Salinger wrapped up into one neurotic vampire mess. The ending which,stresses the close knit bonds of love and loyalty that bind a traditional Jewish family in the Brooklyn enclave, is rather touching. This is a completely odd and different story, with a completely different take on vampires and their place in society.
So why three stars? Well for one thing the art is subpar. This is a prose driven story, thankfully so, because the art would not stand up on its own and does nothing to help the story over all. This causes the reader to focus more sharply on the prose and therein lay the second problem- in an attempt to show Oscar Greenberg's "writer's block" we are treated to pages of the "typed" novel Greenberg is writing. Look I get it, he has writer's block. Cool. Fine. A page, maybe even two, showing his execrable writing would have been enough. But, no, J.M. DeMatteis decided that pages of Greenberg's draft editions of his upcoming novel needed to be included. It's bad. For DeMatteis to subject us to pages of the rotten novel within a comic story is irritating. I did not mind Oscar's written intro, nor his exposition at the end. But his "own" novel is absolute garbage and for that many pages of a bad, imaginary novel to be included seems, to me, just so one can say "Oh look! I wrote a 70+ pages Graphic novel". Um yeah..yeah..I suppose you did. It didn't NEED to be 70 pages but you did it anyways. I didn't NEED to read this book but I did it anyways.
So three stars. Bad art and way to much of an imaginary novel (with atrocious prose too boot) included in far too much detail, drag down this otherwise weird and quirky tale of the trials and tribulations of a Jewish Vampire. Still, to be fair, if you take away the unnecessary extra parts of the novel and the underwhelming art (I get it-it's the 80's) there is a good, original and darkly humorous story underneath it all. If you are a fan of vampires and wish for a different take this is a good tale for you. Even if vampires aren't to your taste and you exhibit a preference for a strange tale with some dry wit, which does evolve into a tale about love and family ties eventually, then this is a good bet for you. Even if you don't love it, you may end up like me and think "Huh! That's a weird tale indeed". I realize that is not a ringing endorsement but neither is it a strident indictment. Any story that can elicit a moment of thought about its uniqueness in an often done-to-death genre (the vampire tale) deserves a read. But if you at some point begin to wonder why so much of the Greenberg novel was considered necessary, or entertaining, then don't blame me- blame DeMatteis.
The only thing I didn't recognise at all in a recent Marvel Max sale on Comixology, and if you read this in isolation, you'd be unlikely to guess it was a Marvel book at all. It opens as a black and white comedy about a Jewish writer living in Brooklyn, who happens to also be a vampire. Think What We Do In The Shadows had it been an eighties - or in some ways seventies - comedy, instead of a millennial one; Woody Allen's imperial phase, except way less creepy, even with all the undead. Also, bear in mind that it's written by JM deMatteis. Who, as co-writer with Keith Giffen, has been responsible for some of the best comedy comics ever – but who, solo, can be a little on the verbose side. That first story is followed by Greenberg's return in one of Marvel's earliest attempts at a graphic novel, and to be fair, one that was probably a better fit for the format than the likes of such timeless, accessible classics as Avengers Deathtrap: The Vault. Painted art by Mark Badger takes the place of Steve Leialoha's monochrome, and the story shifts too – into deMatteis' other besetting sin as a writer, sappy mysticism. A foreword humblebrags, forgivably, about various among the great and the good who loved Greenberg on its original release, and I can absolutely see why, because at that point there was so much less stuff in the gap between underground comix at one extreme, and corporate superhero fare at the other. And it's not like there aren't moments in both stories which still work. Nowadays, though, the overall effect is more that of an interesting curio.
Um vampiro diferente. Quando um escritor de livros de terror baratos é mordido por uma vampira, ganha acesso a todo um novo mundo. A vampira torna-se a sua companheira, e o escritor, agora vampiro, descobre-se como uma das criaturas que alimenta o terror. A comunidade vampírica é benigna, e este peripatético personagem é uma curiosa incursão no cosy horror. Há ameaças, entre possessões demoníacas e caçadores de vampiros, mas os vampiros apenas querem viver as suas discretas vidas, sem fazer mal a ninguém. E, no caso do vampiro escritor, evitar as máquinas fotográficas dos fãs. Uma derivação intrigante sobre a iconografia do género.
This is certainly not a usual vampire story. nor is it the sort of graphic novel that one would expect from Marvel Comics in the mid 80s. DeMatteis tells a moderately complex tale of a Jewish vampire who happens to be a best-selling horror writer and who is suffering from writer's block. The story has more layers than one would expect from a Marvel graphic novel of the period but it also suffers from being somewhat disjointed. Much of the back story ends up being told in a series of excerpts from thr writer - I found it a little disappointing to need large swathes of text to tell the story in a graphic novel.
The artwork (paint over pencil) is ok. I didn't find anything to really but me off, but I didn't find anything to rave about either.
This is not my genre, but I tutored a bat mitzvah student who is into vampires and I hoped the book would make a good present. Alas, although the premise is intriguing and the Jewish content is authentic, the female characters come across like a bar mitzvah boy’s wet dream. No way.
This book is a different and enjoyable instance of the vampire plotline. The main character Greenberg is a unique combination of traits; he is a vampire and a successful writer. However, his writing skills seem to have deserted him, all that he puts down on paper now is trash. His writer’s block is so intense that he sometimes reacts violently to any mention of what he is working on. There are several threads to the plot, including Greenberg’s old Jewish parents and the vampire code, which is to not feed off of humans. Greenberg was converted by accident when the vampire woman he was with was in the throes of sexual passion. There are other evil spirits that make an occasional appearance and must be dealt with. With a contract in hand for a movie script, Greenberg exhibits more of an artistic temperament than that of an aged member of the vampire clan. The last two pages contain a letter by Greenberg to his mother where he thanks her for all she did. A love letter from a vampire son to his non-vampire mother, what an ending. His is a lifestyle that only a mother could love.
Think 1980s mets 1960s in this twisting of Jewish legends and vampire mythos. Oscar Greenberg is cursed like many would be authors. He has difficult with relationships, most of what he writes is crap, he's moody, he tends to focus on sex and substances... oh, yeah, he's also a vampire.
I give most things "vampire" a try and at first I worried this would be too sexist for my tastes but it twists all those tropes around, well, as much as I can expect from 1986 when it came out.
Nudity, sex, and violence are in this so read at your own risk.
While lighter in tone than DeMatteis’ majestic Blood: A Tale with painter Kent Williams, I didn’t find Greenberg the Vampire (also beautifully painted, this time by Mark Badger) to be as funny as the title might suggest, especially coming from a guy who has Justice League International on his resume. (As far as a humorous take on vampires, I think DeMatteis topped himself with “Shadow of the Bat!” from the recent Batman: The Brave and the Bold cartoon series, where a vampiric Batman takes down the JLI). But, what I’ve always liked about Dematteis’ work is not just the kibitzing, but his ability to balance character-based humor and spiritual gravitas. Underneath his humor, there’s a tortured soul struggling to express itself.
I think Greenberg (published in 1986) is best viewed as the predecessor for the autobiographical Brooklyn Dreams, which first came out in 1994. In both of them, the author states, “This is a story about God,” as he tries to explain spiritual concepts and grapple with profound religious experiences. He also draws heavily upon his family life, Jewish upbringing, and childhood experiences for both stories, with Greenberg being a thinly-veiled fantasy, while Brooklyn Dreams is more of a direct autobiography. Both stories also emphasize what the author referred to in Brooklyn Dreams as “using lies to tell the truth.” In Greenberg, the author refers to it as distorting reality in order to see it more clearly. Hence, the need for fantasy elements like vampires and demons in order to tell the emotional truths of a complicated spiritual life.
Oddly, the vampiric element is not only unnecessary, but completely unutilized. It’s completely unrelated to the plot, which has to do with Oscar Greenberg (an obvious stand-in for the author) having to fight off his own personal demons, literally and figuratively. Oscar becomes a vampire by accident when he falls in love and is unintentionally turned. But long before that, since he has a baby, in fact, Lilith, the apocryphal demon from Jewish tradition, had marked him as her own. Although she was thwarted then, she returned to claim him on the day of his Bar Mitzvah. His vampire status doesn’t come into play at all in this struggle. But it does mark him as an outsider. The funniest bit has to do with him attending a family meal and trying to hide his condition from his mother, even though everyone else at the table knows he’s a vampire. The scene plays out as it might for a closeted homosexual (there’s even a reference to “being careful” in the “age of AIDS.” But it’s not homosexuality that the author is struggling with so much as just the sense of otherness and isolation that the author feels.
Greenberg is the story of an author in crisis written by an author in crisis. But he’s not crippled by writer’s block. It’s more that he’s come to a difficult crossroads. On the one hand, there’s the lure of Hollywood, which threatens to corrupt and compromise the author’s creative vision. But it’s not just a matter of should he sell out or not. It’s almost a matter of can he rise to the challenge of selling out? That puts him in doubt not only of his artistic abilities, but also of his ultimate aims. He’s questioning the very nature of his talent, which so far has only been to give voice to the darkness within. As Lilith tells him: “You have the gift, Oscar! You can take the fire and darkness of the human soul—and transform it into words! Words to seduce the millions! Words to bring them to me!” So even when he succeeds at writing something great, all he really manages to do is seduce and corrupt his readers. This prefigures the spiritual crisis the author would later document in Brooklyn Dreams.
But Hollywood, money, and fame aside, he’s also at a crossroads as to what to write about and how to write it. As an accomplished comic book and genre writer, DeMatteis recognizes the crutches of genre fiction, but also their usefulness as a tool for uncovering truths about the human condition. The resolution seems to indicate that he is becoming much more open to exploring more personal issues in his stories, ones that explore his psyche and his unique experiences without the need for superheroes or vampires or other horror and fantasy tropes. Certainly, by the conclusion, he seems determined to tell stories that are more positive in their impact, even when telling dark fantasy stories, as with works like Abadazad.
Greenberg is a transitional work that bridges the gap between DeMatteis’ work-for-hire comics and his more personal and ambitious creator-owned properties. Writing it must have been cathartic for the author. It raises questions about writing that most writers never think to ask and ultimately documents his creative growth. As a fan of his work, I found it interesting for those reasons. But, as a stand-alone story, it’s not among his most engaging or entertaining works.
The art by Mark Badger really sets the tone. There’s some beautiful expressionist work when the story calls for it and a wonderfully balanced color scheme. But the figures are mostly cartoonish with a gouache coloring and shading. The end result is a lighter tone, but also a sense of artistic confinement and restraint. That, combined with the few moments when Badger cuts loose with a more dynamic display of his artistic talents, underscores the theme of creativity being hemmed in by genre constraints or commercial considerations.
Surprisingly the most "up my alley" comic I have read in a long, long time. A mix of Jewish culture and horror, a more menschy take on vampires, a darkly seductive and erotic wrestling with art and lust, writer's block and muses. It feels like synchronicity to have finally read it at this exact moment in life (when I myself am trying to find my voice as an artist while exploring Jewish monsters). Thanks for writing this, J.M.!
I wanted to like this more than I did. Mark Badger's art in Marvel Graphic Novel #20 included in this collection is evocative and gorgeous and really carried me through a lot of overwrought text I could have lived without.
I read this when it first came out in the 80s and wasn’t sure it would hold up. It mostly does, although I don’t care for how Greenberg offers no resistance to Evie/Lilith’s seduction and how Denise offers no objection to his infidelity. But overall, quite enjoyable.
This entire review has been hidden because of spoilers.
Rather often in fandom, people say that "representation matters"; I do know that when I first encountered Kitty Pryde in X-Men comics, I was gratified that there was someone in comics who had a background somewhat similar to mine. (That the MCU doesn't necessarily show any of this is a point for an entirely different review.) I first encountered a "clip" of Greenberg the Vampire (by J.M. DeMatteis, with art by Steve Leialoha in the first story and Mark Badger in the second) in Fredrik Strömberg's overview study Jewish Images in the Comics, and because the titular character is very obviously a stock New York Jewish writer, I thought I had to seek out a copy to read. I wasn't disappointed; although DeMatteis isn't Jewish himself (or at least I don't believe so), he did grow up in Brooklyn (and as Lenny Bruce once said, if you're from New York, you're Jewish, even if you're not) and he captures a certain characterization of New York Jewish people marvelously.
If there is a problem with Greenberg the Vampire, it's that Leialoha's story and Badger's are so wildly tonally different, that I don't know that these stories would at all belong in the same collection if not for that titular character; Leialoha's story is distinctly horror-comedy, whereas Badger's is more "traditional" "dramatic" horror. That said, each story conveys their points in excellent fashion, and especially the latter story conveys Jewishness more-or-less straightforwardly—and accurately, at that. (At least within the confines of fiction; I'm simply saying that Greenberg's family seems like they could actually exist, and whom I might recognize—again, at least within the confines of this fictional work.) That DeMatteis' writing is sensitive and not appropriative makes for a fun read in which I wasn't distracted from DeMatteis' fictional milieu. Fun and entertaining.
"Greenberg the Vampire" must have seemed highly innovative at the time of its publication, when the graphic novels offered by either of the Big Two could be listed on one page. It deserves a modicum of praise for its earnest attempt to depict authentic Jewish identities (even though the association of Judaism with vampirism is reminiscent of the blood libel, a connotation which the creators do not address).
While J.M. DeMatteis and Mark Badger conjure a memorable cast of relatable characters, I found the protagonist's profanity-laced monologues very nearly insufferable. This is in part because they are delivered in the form of long letters (i.e.: blocks of tiny print which could easily have been rendered as graphic narrative so as to avoid breaking the flow of the story).
Badger's paints are vibrant, even kinetic -- I was particularly impressed with his Lilith -- but they are not entirely enough to distract from the maladroitness of the prose.
I liked this more than I thought I would. Very decent modern (even if 40 years old by now *cough, cough*) vampire story NOT set in the Marvel Universe!