Reading this series since: 2000
Likes: Dracula Cha Cha Cha
Dislikes: Johnny Alucard
This book was a risky proposition. It’s a greatly expanded prologue to another novel we know is coming, it’s the fifth book in an extremely elaborate series, and it’s a prequel to nearly everything in that series. If you were worried that this was just scene-setting for the forthcoming sixth book, have no fear, this brief novel more than justifies its own existence with great characters and tricky plotting. Some things are unavoidably setting up future conflicts, with literal prophecies on offer, major players setting plots in motion, and a portentous revelation about the origin of a character who’s been flitting around the stories since 2012’s novella Vampire Romance. But does it work on its own, as the story of a bunch of vampire refugees trying to make a community in the backwaters of Tokyo and stumbling into at least two enormous evil plans already in motion?
Absolutely it does, with a few jagged edges here and there. There’s so many plans in motion that it’s difficult to keep track of all of them, and by the novel’s manic final fifth characters are having to explain a lot of things that happened earlier. It’s not always to satisfying results, either, with at least one significant set-piece apparently coming down to a cruel villain just wanting to see What Would Happen If. To Kim Newman’s credit, nothing that happens is predictable in the particulars. While our heroes seem to be constantly playing catch-up and triumphing mostly through hasty improvisation, that seems to underline what the story constantly emphasizes: that the protagonist characters are out of place in a country they deeply don’t understand.
While previous Anno Dracula books have had vampires with varying relationships to society, at times resembling the parasitic powerful and at other times the vulnerable disenfranchised, I think Yokai Town does something new with the community of vampires in Tokyo, by portraying them as grotesque folkloric figures shifted out of the human realm but still existing within it as abject Others. For the European vampires of the series, and the two familiar faces we follow throughout political maneuverings, religious debates, and murder investigations, it’s a humbling experience that develops the characters beyond what we’ve ever seen before. The whole book is a good read on its own, but it’s also a worthy addition to the series precisely because of what it does differently.
First of all, revisiting the world of Anno Dracula’s nineteenth century rather than pushing on from the 1990s ending of Johnny Alucard underlines how far the series, and Kim Newman’s sensibilities, has changed since the first book was written. Ten years ago, when Anno Dracula was a trilogy, it was possible to describe its fictional universe by saying that around the edges, there were hints that other supernatural powers were at work: werewolves and zombies who might just be variant strains of vampirism, but maybe Cthulhu was real and maybe aliens were too, who could really say. By One Thousand Monsters' ludicrous (in a good way) ending, the top has blown off that particular volcano, and we are in a world of full big-f Fantasy tropes. This novel all ends up in a pastiche of a specifically Japanese movie genre that we don’t normally associate with the time of the novel’s setting, the late 19th century, and there’s implications that we’ll be facing more when book 6 returns in 2018 to tell us all about what happened in 1999 (confusing).
One of the consequences is that Anno Dracula doesn’t really take place in a pastiche of the real world anymore, and as it assembles a consensus reality where all stories are real, leans heavily on the less plausible realms of fiction. I started to feel this pretty distinctly in Johnny Alucard, but it’s in full force here. This has some problematic consequences because the novel is about an exoticized country. I’m not qualified to judge how plausible a version of Japan this is—it seems to rely heavily on the things that Westerners already “know” about Japan, but for all I know, book 3’s Italy was just as bizarre—but I’m not sure that you can really say Anno Dracula is much of an alternate history anymore. That’s not inherently a bad thing, and this book isn’t making a lot of grand statements about the Matter of Japan (one of the things that I don’t like about Johnny Alucard), but it’s definitely different than the original novel. I suspect if you read these in chronological order, you’d get the most genre whiplash between the first book and this one.
It might sound like I don’t like this book much at all, but here’s five things I loved:
5. Popejoy and Higo Yanagi, who both start as window-dressing and silly joke references, but who get something like an arc and ultimately a (very very strange) sweet relationship.
4. The neighbourhood of Yokai Town. I’m a sucker for ramshackle dwellings in fiction, and this one is portrayed vividly, from the amphibious jail guarded by four curiously familiar would-be ninja yokai to the House of Broken Dolls, which reminded me of Nobuhiko Obayashi’s film House. We spend some time in Paris in this book as well, but the extraordinary settings of Yokai Town stand out as particularly well-conceived.
3. The band of misfits structure. There’s a point late in the book where the gang of oddballs we’ve met so far has to go to war, and we get a very cinematic scene of them walking down the street joining up with each other. It feels so close to novelizing a scene from a movie we’ll never see that it hits me in the same place a movie would: genuinely different (and sometimes extraordinarily bizarre) characters teaming up to fight for their way of life. It’s corny and I love it.
2. Genevieve’s narration and flashbacks. Taking one of the most beloved characters in Anno Dracula, and finally showing us significant parts of her past, works extremely well. In 2012’s Aquarius we got to hear evil sociologist Caleb Croft explain what he was up to when Dracula went public and Vampirism got its’ Year Zero, but now we get the Where Were You When story from a considerably more interesting character. Not all your questions are answered, but actually better than that, we get to see why Genevieve became what she was when we first met her twenty-five years ago. Her creator Kim Newman still writes her as a great character with an intriguing voice, to the point where her digressions are just as delightful to read as the main part of the story.
1. Christina Light. I’ll be honest, after the comic series Seven Days in Mayhem earlier this year, I didn’t have high hopes for the Princess at all. In that series she came across as a nonentity to me, and I shuddered to think that I’d be in for two books of another cheap Dracula imitator (I DID NOT LIKE JOHNNY ALUCARD, OKAY?). This book switches that around, and uses an actual cheap Dracula imitator that makes me think it was a self-conscious choice. As it transpires, Christina Light is a much more nuanced character than she has to be: she’s not exactly a villain, but she’s also not exactly a hero. She makes a lot of deeply unethical choices, but she also has much better motives than you’d expect. Whatever Newman does with the character in the future, I’m intrigued in a way I wasn’t before. There’s also a great scene where Christina and Genevieve just chat about things, and the difference between them becomes abundantly clear without making either one clearly wrong.
In brief: Kim Newman gives us another solid Anno Dracula, one that’s unexpected and clever but also finds time to be heartwarming and horrifying at various points. While I don’t think it’s great, it more than justifies the series continuing into book 6 and whatever comes beyond that. If you’re a fan of the series, I suspect you might just love it.