A ridiculous number of vampire books have been published lately. Good ones and not so good ones. I haven't read much horror in recent years, but when I read about a movie adaptation of a Swedish vampire novel called Let Me In, I checked my usual review sites to see if the novel was any good. The tone of the reviews in general was somewhat strange: the book was highly recommended, but in serious, intense terms. Not the "oh, I loved it!" kind of response at all. So, I borrowed the book and took it home. I read, like many of us, right before I go to sleep at night. Working life has many dictates, and this is one of them. This circumstance was unfortunate, which I sensed long before I could finally put the book down that first night. This book is scary. I feared falling asleep. I feared shadows in the corners.
Let Me In, in the best tradition of horror, includes very effective literary techniques (foreshadowing, pacing of the plot, allusion, etc.) for heightening the reader's susceptibility to the shock of the experiences Oskar, a 12-year old boy living in suburban Stockholm, endures. Oskar is a bit of a dork. He's socially inept, is overweight, and a favorite target of his school's bullies. When one of the bullies ends up dead, Oskar is equally horrified and relieved. A new neighbor has moved into Oskar's building about this time; a girl and a man who could be her father. Eli doesn't go to school, though, and Oskar only sees her at night. Oh, yeah, she's definitely a vampire. Lindqvist develops Eli, Oskar and the other characters not as types, but to the point that you know them like you know real people. And the things they do are unspeakably grotesque, but for reasons we all understand: love, fear, hunger and the need to belong. These are vampires of the Anne Rice variety, once human and now monsters of appetites. Eli befriends Oskar, cares for him as no one else does, and for that he keeps her secret and accepts her terms for their relationship without dispute. And ghastly terms they are.
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