Thirty days of each winter in Barrow, Alaska, come and go without the sun putting in an appearance; it is below the horizon for all that time. Perhaps it was inevitable, therefore, that some enterprising screenwriter or graphic novelist would come up with this eminently “pitch-able” story idea of the kind that could be offered to producers at a Hollywood story conference: “Hey, what if a bunch of vampires attacked that town at the top of Alaska where the sun goes down for a whole month?” It is indeed the kind of premise that might get other screenwriters and graphic novelists across Greater Los Angeles saying to themselves, “Why didn’t I think of that?” And story writer Steve Niles and illustrator Ben Templesmith certainly take the idea and run with it – or fly on bat-wings with it – in their 2003 graphic novel 30 Days of Night.
Greys, blacks, and blurry lines predominate in the visual style and colour scheme of 30 Days of Night, with the story beginning on November 17, 2001, just as the sun is about to set below the horizon for the last time until December 18 – 30 days of night. The story’s main characters, the husband-and-wife team of sheriff Eben and deputy Stella Olemaun, always watch that November sunset together every year; but this year, their annual reverie is interrupted by the discovery that someone has stolen the mobile phones of every person in the town, dropped them in a hole in the ground, and set them all on fire. It works fine as foreshadowing – though the picky reader might wonder how all the cell phones in a town of 4,000 people could be stolen and destroyed in a single day.
The scene then switches to New Orleans, where a wise woman whose expertise extends to things supernatural has managed to intercept online communications between someone named Roderick Barlow and someone else who goes only by the initial “V.” The correspondence of the two relates to “nineteen attendees” who plan on “gathering for an event” in Barrow – an event that could be “truly one for the ages” (p. 15).
Further foreshadowing occurs when a mysterious visitor at a local restaurant asks for a glass of whiskey and a dish of raw hamburger meat, and starts making trouble when his request is not fulfilled. The vampire-savvy reader senses at once that this character is the Renfield of the piece – the human servant who facilitates the depredations of his vampire master.
Indeed, vampire and horror allusions abound here: Roderick Barlow has a first name straight out of Edgar Allan Poe’s “The Fall of the House of Usher” (1838), along with the same surname as the malevolent vampire of Stephen King’s novel ’Salem’s Lot (1975); and the initial “V” calls to mind Vlad Tepes, the bloody-minded 15th-century Wallachian voivode whose sanguinary exploits inspired a set of vampire legends that Bram Stoker incorporated into his novel Dracula (1897).
With power down and communications cut off, the vampires make their move. A large panel on page 26 describes what Eben, looking through long-range binoculars, sees: a group of vampires, pale-skinned and dark eyed, their mouths a tableau of razor-sharp teeth. In response to Stella’s “Eben? What is it? What do you see?”, Eben replies simply, “Get in the car. We have to warn the others while there’s still time.” For his part, vampire leader Marlow, informed that their progress toward the town has been watched, says, “Good. I wouldn’t have it any other way. The chase makes the blood taste sweeter” (p. 27).
What follows is nine pages of carnage, as the vampires kill and feed on the helpless people of Barrow. It is not that the presentation of the violence is overdone or deliberately gross-out gory – indeed, the relatively blurry lines mean that the killings are usually a vague explosion of red, hinting at rather than clinically depicting the mayhem – but it just got repetitive. It was at this point, for me, that 30 Days of Night almost became One Day of Putting the Book Down Permanently.
But the book becomes more interesting when Eben and Stella, who have led a small band of survivors down into an old industrial furnace on the outskirts of Barrow, start trying to figure out how they can survive the vampire invasion. Simultaneously, the wise woman in New Orleans is sending her son north to Alaska to try to gather information on events in Barrow.
And Eben and Stella start to get a sense of how the vampires can be killed when their leader, “V” – it turns out to be short for Vicente, not Vlad (pity that) – arrives in Barrow. Marlow tells Vicente that he has planned out everything most carefully – “We can feast enough to make us strong for a full year. And none have been turned. I gave strict orders that all victims should be decapitated after bleeding and feeding” (p. 51). In response, Vicente is outraged, striking Marlow down and asking the assembled vampires, “How many centuries has it taken to become a myth? How many centuries has it taken us to mesh with the living world? To make the humans believe we no longer exist? Can any of you tell me? Hundreds. Thousands. Now, in a single greedy, stupid act, you have given them reason to suspect!” (pp. 55-56)
It’s a valid point; and indeed, it makes one wonder why Vicente – who looks remarkably like Count Orlov from F.W. Murnau’s 1922 vampire film Nosferatu – didn’t bring up that point in his e-mail correspondence with Marlow earlier in the narrative. It is one of a number of moments in 30 Days of Night when the suspension of disbelief gets, well, suspended.
Still, we know at this point that humans can be “turned” into vampires, and that vampires can be killed by decapitation – and this knowledge gives Eben an idea about how to fight the vampire horror. These later parts of 30 Days of Night had a sharper storytelling edge, and provided some genuine narrative surprises.
Author Niles was born in New Jersey and raised in the Washington, D.C., area. Illustrator Templesmith is from Perth, Western Australia. I mention this in order to emphasize that neither member of the creative team behind 30 Days of Night has any particular ties to Alaska. And that, I think, speaks to one of the key limiting factors for this otherwise satisfactory graphic novel.
From here in Alaska, where I have been visiting for a couple of weeks now, I can tell you that Barrow is now called Utqiaġvik. It is a home area for the Iñupiat nation of Indigenous Alaskans (who constitute 61% of the town’s population). It has a rich history and culture, none of which comes forth in 30 Days of Night. All that the creators of the graphic novel seem to have been interested in is the fact that the sun is down in Barrow/Utqiaġvik for 30 consecutive days.
Film critic Roger Ebert liked many things about the 2007 film adaptation of 30 Days of Night – it has a good cast that includes Josh Hartnett, Melissa George, and Danny Huston – but felt obliged, in his review of the film, to mention that “how [the people of Barrow] support themselves is a mystery to me. No mention of drilling for oil, maintaining the pipeline, guarding against missile attacks, hunting whales, carving scrimshaw, etc. They seem to have settled there out of sheer perversity, and I guess they support themselves by selling stuff to one another.”
As the movie 30 Days of Night (filmed in New Zealand – about as far from Alaska as you can get) seems to have precious little to do with Alaska, the same can be said for the graphic novel from which the film was adapted. This may not bother some readers, but it did bother me. I am a firm believer that a work of literature, if it is set in a real place, should try to convey, at some level, authentic details of the actual life of the place, even if the work is fantastical or speculative in nature. ’Salem’s Lot is a superb vampire novel – and it is equally superb as a regional novel, rich in the kind of rural New England detail that Stephen King has observed and experienced throughout his life in the Pine Tree State. 30 Days of Night lacks that depth of texture.
But the reading public’s appetite for vampire narratives seems as insatiable as the blood-thirst of the vampires who gather at Barrow on November 17, 2001; and I suppose 30 Days of Night will give them something to bite into.