Slobbo cops a staking

Props to Fra Moretta for sending along a news item concerning a modern-day manifestation of the vampire belief.

Many might of you might recall Serbia and Yugoslavia's former president, Slobodan Milošević (1941-2006) and his, uh, let's say, unsavory reputation. He died of a heart attack while on trial for war crimes. But in 2007, he received a heart attack of a different kind:

Serbian vampire hunters have acted to prevent the very remote possibility that former dictator Slobodan Milosevic might stage a come-back - by driving a three-foot stake through his heart.

A few interesting items of note. Firstly, the hunters used the same length of stake that Arthur Holmwood does on Lucy Westenra in Dracula (1897). Yeah, that was a three footer, too. Second, as I've pointed out before, Serbia is the vampire's heartland. Third, they tried to drive a stake through his heart. In 2007. Yikes.

Technically speaking, Miroslav Milosevic (no relation) drove the stake through Slobodan's grave. Not sure whether it 'hit the spot'. I'm sure he had good intentions. Also, I wouldn't be surprised if the gesture was a bizarre political protest - by a member of the Resistance from Pozarevac, no less - or whether he genuinely believed in the stake's purpose in accordance with vampire tradition. But interestingly enough, impaling the a vampire's grave to prevent it rising is founded in tradition, as is the choice of hawthorn for the stake...

Update: ok, so I was right about the 'political protest' angle. Tanja, a contributor on a JREFF thread dedicated to the news story, exposed it with her translation of a Bosnian news source. Miroslav was indeed making a (ahem) point. I love the local constabulary's reaction to Miroslav's intent to stake the Slobmeister. It's a pisser.

Bigfoot and the undead

I've noticed some interesting parallels between Bigfoot research and vampire categorisation (a subject I've been discussing here and here). Time to wade back into that semantic quagmire.

It began with reading bshistorian's coverage on the way Bigfoot is represented, who, in turn reproduces a post by a JREF forum member, noting, 'It’s an interesting reminder of how history can be more easily co-opted to suit certain agendas by taking advantage of ignorance – ignorance of the past and of cultures and traditions alien to our own.'

I believe this principle applies to vampire categorisation, too. The 'vampire' is used as a term of convenience when discussing various mythical, legendary and folkloric beings. To get to the 'source', we have to revert back to the vampire's 'origin' point, that is, the earliest uses of the term in conjunction with the classic bloodsucking corpse type. After all, the word entered our language to refer to this specific being.

In terms of the Bigfoot issue, JREF forum member - kitakaze - is much more blunt: 'It is my assertion that Native American traditions do not support the existence of bigfoot and that what is put forth by bigfoot enthusiasts as evidence for the existence of bigfoot has been cherry-picked and misrepresented.'

I acknowledge the evolution of the word's usage since it was first published in the Western European press. It has lead to apt variations like 'vampirism' and makes sense when we apply it in an occultic context to refer to 'psychic vampires'. Sometimes, people use the word to describe themselves.

The word's metaphoric context was first mined in Caleb D'Anvers' journal, The Craftsman, which featured an article discussing 'Political Vampyres' (20 May 1732, pp. 120-9), which explicitly drew parallels with the Arnod Paole case and its associated characteristics.* However, the word's original usage has not been phased out.

And that's the inherent 'problem' I see with the broad application of the word. In terms of vampire categorisation, its usage is so expansive, you really have to start asking where to draw the line. Here is a definition for vampires in Jonathan Maberry's Vampire universe: the dark world of supernatural beings that haunt us, hunt us, and hunger for us (New York: Citadel Press, 2006):

Quite simply, vampires are supernatural beings that take what is not theirs to takes [sic]—blood, life, breath, or some other vital part of their human victims; and they take it by force. It is the taking without permission that characterizes the vampire. Even in cases of vampire seduction, the vampire is using supernatural powers to seduce its victim, which is no more a consensual act than spiking a woman's cocktail with a "date rape" drug (p. x).

Apart from raising questions on the nature of 'consent', many beings in myth, folklore and legend embody these characteristics from ghosts to witches to demons. However, even Maberry admits that his use of the term is 'for convenience' (ibid.).

Compare this with what Joe Nickell says about Bigfoot research in Tracking the man-beats: sasquatch, vampires, zombies, and more (Amherst, N.Y.: Prometheus Books, 2011): 'There seems now to be a trend towards standardization, as the creature evolves into a mythical being—central to a belief shaped by planetary concerns' (p. 75). That was after noting 'What becomes apparent from all this data [of various 'Bigfoot' sightings] is the incredible variety of creatures reported (including many that are white, gray-blue, yellow, brown, reddish, black, etc.; that are horned and fanged, or not; that walk on all fours or upright; that have two to six toes and the like)' (ibid.).

How can such supernatural diversity be reconciled under a single heading? In the quest for convenience, doesn't the cultural emphasis of such beings, their local names, become lost in the process, in order to synthesise these beings under a single 'type'? In terms of 'reconciling' various traits, isn't a 'new' being created?

Occasionally, such 'reconciliation' is employed by paranormalists shoehorning various data to suit their own theories and 'experiences', not limited to presenting an 'alternate' history to 'validate' comparatively modern 'phenomena'. Montague Summers did it. So does the Vampire Research Society.**

To come full circle, 'Bigfoot' scores a mention in Shane MacDougall's (Jonathan Maberry) The vampire slayers' field guide to the undead (Doylestown, Pa.: Strider Nolan Publishing), p. 142, while Janet and Colin Bord, in discussing the hysteria and subsequent cash-ins on sightings near Sister Lakes, Michigan, mention a monster hunting kit for sale: 'For $7.95 the keen hunter could buy a light, a net, a baseball bat and, to clinch matters, a mallet and a stake' (my emphasis, cited in Nickel 2011, p. 73).

* The Arnod Paole case was so significant to vampire research, it introduced 'Vampyre' (vampire) into our language via the coverage given in The London J0urnal (13 March 1732) which The Craftsman article quotes from.

** see my dissection of their so-called 'Vampirological testimony' parts one, two, three, four.

Tracking the first 'true' vampire

I recently received an interesting comment from bshistorian, which gave me some food for thought: who was the first 'true' vampire?

As I've mentioned many times in this blog, I'm a proponent of the 'modern' vampire theory, that is, vampires aren't as ancient or universal as many writers claim them to be. For starters, the word, 'vampire', is a relatively recent addition to our vocabulary. Superficial on the surface, sure, but I'll elaborate on its significance later. First, here's the relevant portions from bshistorian's comment:

More directly on topic for your latest post, I've been reading Masters' 'A Natural History of the Vampire', which suffers badly from the 'lumping in' syndrome you describe. Taking his lead from Summers, *everything* becomes somehow evidence of vampire belief - revenants, ghosts, cannibals, serial killers, you name it. But this is an 'old' book - it's when we see this still going on today that I really despair.

Though I said 'early 18th century), would I in fact be right in saying that the 'Jure Grando' incident of 1672 (reported by Valvasor in 1689) is the earliest instance of a 'true' (i.e. bloodsucking) vampire?

In case you're unfamiliar with our friend Jure, bshistorian is referring to a 'vampire' better known as Giure Grando. As bs alludes, [Johann Weichard von] Valvasor is believed to be the earliest source of this case, which he recorded in his 1689 book, Die Ehre deß Hertzogthums Crain (The glory of the Duchy of Carniola).

Rob Brautigam reproduced the relevant portions on the case from Valvasor's book (untranslated), while Niels has noted that the town in which it originally took place, has recently begun capitalising Grando's vampire reputation. The question is, does Grando deserve his 'vampire tag? Was he truly - as his Wikipedia entry says - 'the first classical vampire to be mentioned in documented records'?

Let's boil down the core elements featured in Brautigam's extracts. He has an overview of the case (in English), so I'll be relying on that in tandem with Google Translate for the extracts.*

Firstly, Grando is supposed to have returned from death to torment the living. He visited their homes and members of the household would die shortly after. There is no mention of direct attacks, which draws parallels with the Greek vrykolakas, which, in some cases, was said to knock on a resident's door, and, if answered, would ensure death to the householder. I might examine that aspect at a later time.

Brautigam repeats Dudley Wright's version of events, in that Grando was said to throw his widow 'into a deep sleep with the object of sucking her blood', however this attribute is not found in the Valvasor extracts, suggesting a latter-day embellishment.

In terms of the extracts, it's clear Grando wasn't called a 'vampire', either. At least, not locally or contemporary with the time the incident was recorded. Instead, supernatural beings of his type were called 'Strigon', as the Valvasor mentions. While this term - on the surface - bears a marked resemblance to the Romanian strigoi, which, itself, is often described as Romania's version of the vampire, that does not necessarily mean the word is a synonym. For instance, 'vampire' is rendered as vampir in Romanian and is of comparatively modern use, indicating the word had to be introduced to the language, otherwise an extant Romanian word would have sufficed. Same principle at work, in this case.

There are, however, other recognisable vampire tropes in the Grando case, so it's obvious to see why the vampire tag's been applied. There is an attempt to drive a stake through his body - as well as mention of the practice being used against others of his type. However, the use of a hawthorn stake (as per Wright's rendering) is not explicit, so I can't help wondering if Wright was trying to draw upon its use in Serbian vampire tradition, even if it wasn't explicitly listed by Valvasor. Apart from the stake, a crucifix is wielded at the 'vampire' while in its grave, however, this does not seem to have been used as a ward, per se, but as part of an exorcism or absolution rite.

The key ingredient missing from the Grando case is the vampire's tendency to suck the blood of its victims. This is a vital component to the vampire tag and this gets us back to my point about the significance behind the word's introduction to our language.

When the Arnold Paole case broke press, journalists and other writers used the local term for revenants of his 'type': 'vampyre' [vampire] and minor variants thereof. And by 'local', I mean the term used in Serbia, where Paole lived. These renderings can be traced to recounts of Flückinger's exhumation report, 'Visum et Repertum' (26 January 1732). In describing beings of Paole's type, Flückinger, himself, wrote 'die sogenannte Vampyrs'.

At the time, this area was occupied by the Austro-Hungarian empire, which is why Paole and/or the region he lived was occasionally - but mistakenly - referred to as Hungarian. Paole, himself, was said to have been attacked by a vampire while stationed in 'Turkish Serbia', i.e. the region of Serbia under Ottoman rule. Therefore, it can be surmised that Serbia is the 'source' of this term. That, in turn, means that components discussed in the Paole case should match up with other local applications of the term. Paole was explicitly said to have sucked his victim's blood after returning from the dead.

However, did Paole have an antecedent? Was there another Serbian revenant, also referred to as a vampire? Was it also described as sucking its victim's blood? Yep.

Enter Peter Plogojovitz. Another Serbian vampire. Another blood-drinker. Also referred to, locally, by the vampire tag ('so nennen Vampyri'). While not as well-known as Paole, his case also garnered press coverage, primarily from the Wienerisches Diarium (25 July 1725). However, despite what we're trying to establish with bshistorian's query about who the 'first' vampire was, Plogojovitz clearly wasn't. The report the Wienerisches Diarium reproduced, mentioned that other villages had been decimated by other such beings, which is why the villagers of Kisolova were so keen to 'dispose' of Plogojovitz in the 'traditional and approved manner': by staking him and cremating his remains. Such events were also said to occur during 'Turkish times', i.e. the period in which that region was under Ottoman rule.

So, is there an earlier version of a being - or person - explicitly referred to as a vampire along with these traits? To my knowledge, no. And Niels seems to agree. Neither us, however, are saying that Plogojovitz was the first vampire, per se, but that he is probably the first named vampire. The first case in which the terms and traits are explicitly fused. At least, that's my interpretation. Therefore, Serbia's vampire 'contribution', essentially, to the world, can not be underestimated. Romania usually takes the credit - thanks to Dracula - but it certainly wasn't the bedrock of the legend.

However, this is where things get murky.

In my original reply to bshistorian, I did allude to sources covering vampires elsewhere. Namely, Poland. When Calmet said, 'In this age, a new scene presents itself to our eyes, and has done for about sixty years in Hungary, Moravia, Silesia, and Poland', he was incorporating references to the 'oupire'.

The public memorials of the years 1693 and 1694 speak of oupires, vampires or ghosts, which are seen in Poland, and above all in Russia. They make their appearance from noon to midnight, and come and suck the blood of living men or animals in such abundance that sometimes it flows from them at the nose, and principally at the ears, and sometimes the corpse swims in its own blood oozed out in its coffin. It is said that the vampire has a sort of hunger, which makes him eat the linen which envelops him. This reviving being, or oupire, comes out of his grave, or a demon in his likeness, goes by night to embrace and hug violently his near relations or his friends, and sucks their blood so much as to weaken and attenuate them, and at least cause their death (p. 52).

The main traits - as well as a marked similarity in name - are present. Plogovitz and Paole were both supposed to strangle their victims ('hug violently'?). However, the method of the 'oupire''s destruction (decapitation and/or 'opening the heart') vary slightly. The term, 'oupire', is clearly derived from the Slavic upir and it's interesting to see that term is occasionally used in lieu of 'vampire' or an obvious derivative.

Naturally, this open the door to a version of the 'universal' vampire theory: if oupire or upir was an antecedent/variant of 'vampire', what other cultural variants are there of the Slavic type? Were they considered to synonymous? To justify that, I would suggest that a direct correlation needs to be established. But I think it's reasonable to conclude that the direct origins of vampire we today can be traced to the localised Serbian variant at least by its name and basic characteristics.

To employ the term, 'vampire' in a broad, generic sense, at least, without showing due respect - and citation of original, localised terms and characteristics - is to obscure and/or obliterate the cultural and local 'variants' (for want of a better description). If a case is to be made that the variants in question were 'the same thing', then a linguistic and cultural genealogy to the Serbian vampire should be established. After all, without the Serbian vampire precedent, there are no other 'vampires', either.**

* I know this isn't the best scholarly aid, but those able to read German are free to correct me if I've made any errors by consulting Brautigam's extract. I will happily cite corrections on this blog.

** This isn't to say that, generally speaking, the vampire label should only be used if it caters to this specific paradigm. After all, that'd make the vampire film and literary genres obsolete. What I'm saying is, yes, I know that the term can be used in a generic sense, especially in respect to its evolution even in our own language, but where folklore studies are concerned, a vampire 'family tree' should be taken into consideration before using the term in a 'universal' context.

Prospective Publishers, Take Note!

I've noticed my tendency to go on little rants about the lack of 'access' we English as Only Language (EOL) folk have to foreign language material on vampires. Time for another one!

I loves my vampire folklore. Can't get enough of it. Unfortunately, it's often overlooked - or briefly covered - in favour of cinematic and literary treatments of the vampire genre. As I've mentioned before, the Library of Congress features 110 listings in its vampires in literature subject category, alone. Major works on vampire folklore in English are largely covered by Montague Summers, Paul Barber, Jan L. Perkowski, Bruce A. McClelland and Theresa Bane. Even then, their works provide a tantalising insight into what we EOLers are missing out on (not to detract from the brilliance of their writings).

Fer instance, flip your way through the 'Théses & Livres Culturels' tag in Lady Nini's blog, Livres de Vampires. Look at that stuff! I doubt it's all gold, but there's gotta be a lotta great, untapped info there. I even stumbled upon a recently published work dedicated to vampire folklore: Daniela Soloviova-Horville's Les vampires : du folklore slave à la littérature occidentale (2011).

And of all the stuff written in French on the subject, I can only think of books that've been translated into English: Ornella Volta's Le vampire : la mort, le sang, la peur (1962; The vampire, 1965), Jean Marigny's Sang pour sang : le réveil des vampires (1993; Vampires: the world of the undead, 1994) and Claude Lecouteux's Histoire des vampires : autopsie d'un mythe (1999; The secret history of vampires: their multiple forms and hidden purposes, 2010).

Five, if we're including the 1749 and 1850 translations of Calmet's work. That's it.

'Hang on a second!' some of you particularly well-read readers might interject. 'Wasn't Pëtr Bogatyrëv's Vampires in the Carpathians originally written in French?' Well, yeah. But keeping with the tradition of compulsively retitling the other French works, looks can be deceiving: that particular book had almost bugger-all to do with vampires.

With German works, we're even worse off: I can't think of any English translations. The tragedy of that situations becomes readily apparent when you realise that the early writings on the subject were primarily written in German (and Latin, to be fair). As was the first full-length literary study: Stefan Hock's Die Vampyrsagen und ihre Verwertung in der deutschen Litteratur (1900).

That's why I was exhilarated to hear about an upcoming English work by one of Germay's foremost vampire scholars, Peter Mario Kreuter. They're so ahead of us, that some of 'em are even starting to delve into obscure facets of the non-fiction vampire genre. Like, for example, vampirology's relation to librarianship.


I was so excited to hear about it, that I went ahead and ordered a copy of the book on eBay, even though I won't be able to read the bloody thing. Niels' gave it a pretty positive review, at least. Phew.

So, publishers, if you're reading, instead of palming off the usual guff, how about focusing on translating instead? The genre would be enriched by an influx of 'new' information and the doorway would open to readers who probably aren't familiar with the foreign language stuff, encumbered, as we are, by our linguistic limitations.

Andy Responds!

I'm so glad I cautiously-worded my coverage of certain obscure vampire lore in one of Andy's movie reviews.


We're talking about the nailing-the-vampire-through-the-head thing as a means of 'destroying' an undead. I said that he 'may or may not know' that it had a 'European precedent'. Turns out, he did know (I shoulda known he would). Here's his reply:

Hi Anthony, good article.

I was aware of the European lore - especially via Calmet. I also take the point that the filmmakers were likely looking to European lore rather than anything further flung.

The fault is mine for not explaining what I meant. I was more alluding to an accidental connectivity, perhaps alluding to a subconscious undercurrent.

Why was a stake or a nail used? To pin the undead to the floor primarily (or in Indonesia to strip them of their powers, essentially the same thing).

This would allow for a generally common theme (and possibly sources back to post-mortem sitting of corpses, which I understand is more common than we'd think)

I like such connections and perhaps should have mentioned the, clearly, more obvious European connection.

Re your quote concerning the location of the nail (ie back of the neck), this is a more common entry point (from my researches), but at least one Indonesian films switches things to the crown of the skull. The forehead makes for a more visually immediate scene, when the corpse is coffin bound ;)

All good points and I like that Andy's openly discussing his interest in comparative folklore; a common theme in vampire studies.

Head Like a Hole

An obscure method of destryoing vampires caught my attention in Andrew's review of The night of the walking dead (1977).

Andrew has a great passion for the lore featured in vampire flicks, which always receives coverage in his reviews. I love vampire lore, meself, especially when it's particularly inventive or suggests the filmmakers might've done some actual research for their movie. So, the following paragraph from his review couldn't help but catch my attention:

The other lore we get is the fact that a stake through the heart won’t work permanently. Clearly we saw that and, as Catherine's father is the one who communicates the effective method, we can only guess that he didn’t relay that to the villagers as it was his daughter they were staking. Rather an iron nail should be hammered through the skull – this not only makes for a nicely unusual scene but forms (unintentionally) a bridge between East and West as the Indonesian Kuntilanak is sometimes said to lose its powers through just such an intervention.

An interesting parallel, but I'm somewhat skeptical that the 'bridge between East and West' was a deliberate move. After all, what Andrew may or may not know, is that there's actually a European precedent for this method of destruction. Let's turn to Augustine [sic] Calmet's The phantom world; or, the philosophy of spirits, vol. 2 (London: Richard Bentley, 1850)¹. Calmet relates an account from someone byway of the 'Count de Cabreras, captain of the regiment of Alandetti infantry' who dealt with a vampire infestation 'on the frontiers of Hungary' (p. 33). Three alleged vampires were exhumed, each dealt with in a different way. It's the second sucker we're concerned with here:

Upon this deposition the commissary had this man taken out of his grave, and finding that, like the first, his blood was in a fluid state, like that of a living person, he ordered them to run a large nail into his temple, and then to lay him again in the grave (p. 34).

For the record, the first vampire was beheaded, the third was cremated. Calmet gives no explanation as to why these various methods were employed against these unfortunate undead. The nail-in-the-head routine is later invoked in his coverage of Greek practices against the excommunicated dead:

They know of no means more certain to deliver themselves from being infested by these dangerous apparitions, than to burn and hack to pieces these bodies, which served as instruments of malice, or to tear out their hearts, or to let them putrefy before they are buried, or to cut off their heads, or to pierce their temples with a large nail (p. 109).

For a literary parallel, we turn to an anonymous German story called 'The mysterious stranger', which was first published in English in Odds and ends in 1860:

"You see there that open vault!" replied the knight Woislaw, pointing to the door and flight of steps: "You must descend. You must go alone; I may not accompany you. When you have reached the vault you will find, close to the entrance, a coffin, on which is placed a small packet. Open this packet, and you will find three long iron nails and a hammer. Then pause for a moment; but when I begin to repeat the Credo in a loud voice, knock with all your might, first one nail, then a second, and then a third, into the lid of the coffin, right up to their heads."

Franziska stood thunderstruck; her whole body trembled, and she could not utter a word. Woislaw perceived it.

"Take courage, dear lady!" said he. "Think that you are in the hands of Heaven, and that without the will of your Creator, not a hair can fall from your head. Besides, I repeat, there is no danger."

"Well, then, I will do it," cried Franziska, in some measure regaining courage.

"Whatever you may hear, whatever takes place inside the coffin," continued Woislaw, "must have no effect upon you. Drive the nails well in, without flinching: your work must be finished before my prayer comes to an end."

So, to sum up, I find it much more likely that the filmmakers drew upon extant European use sof nails against the undead. However, I couldn't end this without giving some coverage to the kuntilanak Andrew mentions. Let's turn to our good friend, Wikipedia:

Some believe that having a sharp object like a nail helps them fend off potential attacks by Pontianaks, the nail being used to plunge a hole at the back of the Pontianak's neck. It is believed that this will turn the Pontianak into a beautiful woman, until the nail is pulled off again. The Indonesian twist on this is to plunge the nail into the apex of the head of the kuntilanak.

¹ Rev. Henry Christmas' English translation of Augustin Calmet's Traité sur les apparitions des Esprits, et sur les vampires ou les revenans de Hongrie, de Moravie &c. (1751).

Bats Where They Don't Belong

I've discussed the importance of paper trails, now here's a lesson on why we should consult original sources wherever possible.

Everyone knows vampires change into bats. It's common knowledge, just like their fear of sunlight and extra-long canine teeth. Problem is, there's no historical basis for their ability to change into flying mammals prior to the publication of Dracula (1897). As Elizabeth Miller notes, 'Stoker's major contribution to the link between vampires and bats was to have a vampire shape-shift into a bat' (2006, p. 16).

I've never been able to establish a pre-Stoker connection, meself. That is, until I read a reproduced newspaper article in Christopher Rondina's Vampire legends of Rhode Island (1997).

The article's called 'The vampire theory' and originally appeared in the Providence Journal (21 March 1892). Rondina prints it in its entirety (pp. 31–7). Here's the relevant portion:

In all forms of the tradition, the vampire left its abode, and wrought its object, at night. When the full moon shone and the sky was cloudless, its opportunity was supposed to be most favorable. It left the body of the dead at the back of the neck, and appeared as a frog, toad, spider, bat or venomous fly from that moment until it returned to its corpse home (p. 34).

Appeared as a bat! This was an exciting find. I knew Stoker had heard of New England 'vampire' cases. After all, his working notes for the novel contained an article discussing them. Was it possible that he read other newspaper articles on New England vampirism? Had he somehow come across the Providence Journal article? Had it inspired the vampire lore in his book?

Before I explored this theory any further, I had to double-check Rondina's source. I had to find a copy of the original article. After all, I was potentially dealing with a major discovery: pre-Stoker evidence of the vampire's ability to transform into a bat. Thanks to Rondina, I had a periodical title, an article name and a date. All I needed to do was track down a faculty that actually kept copies of the paper.

After some Googlin' and a coupla e-mails, I managed to track down a place: the Providence Public Library. Their librarian kindly sent me a copy of the article, which arrived on the 24th. The relevant citation was written on the photocopy, so I even had a page number, which Rondina neglected to cite.


There was only one portion of the article I was really interested in, so I hurriedly scanned through the page to see if Rondina's quotation was accurate. I found the relevant section Rondina quoted, along with a notable omission:


'It left the body of the dead at the back of the neck, and appeared as a frog, toad, spider, venomous fly, from that moment until it returned to its corpse home.' Despite the murkiness of the photocopy, it was readily apparent that the vampire's ability to appear in the form of a bat is not mentioned in the article. Here's a closer view:


I don't see 'appeared as a frog, toad, spider, bat or venomous fly' (my emphasis). Can you? There's no significant gaps between the text indicating missing words that might've been left out when the paper was first printed. There's no smudginess, indicating obscured words. Simply put, 'bat' isn't there. Let's say I was incredibly disappointed.

Despite this setback, I still retain a sense of optimism. I mean maybe, just maybe there's a pre-Stoker source out there that tells us vampires could change into bats. But Rondina's source isn't it. In the meantime, it's a shame we have to wade through erroneously transcribed (at best) or deliberately falsified (at worst) material to chronicle vampire lore.

Nonetheless, I'm willing to give Rondina the benefit of the doubt: if he can produce a copy of the article that actually includes the bat 'omission', as well as cite the faculty he obtained the article from, I am more than willing to retract my critique and offer a sincere apology. Ball's in his court.

References

Miller, E 2006, ‘Getting to know the un-dead: Bram Stoker, vampires, and Dracula’, in P Day (ed.), Vampires: myths and metaphors of enduring evil, At the interface/Probing the boundaries no. 28, Rodopi, Amsterdam, pp. 3–19.

Rondina, C 1997, Vampire legends of Rhode Island, Covered Bridge Press, North Attleborough, Mass.

'The vampire theory', 1892, Providence Journal, 21 March, p. 8.

Clark and the Cross

Fred Clark has some interesting speculations on the vampire's fear of the cross.

Not that I really agree with him, mind you. Especially when he prefaces his article thusly:

I should note here, before we go on, that I believe in vampire stories. I don't mean that I believe these stories are "literally" true -- they're not that kind of story. But I believe they are true stories -- stories by which we tell ourselves true things so that we do not forget them.

Make of that what you will.

But essentially, he argues that a vampire's fear of the cross stems not from a dread of something holy, but the confrontation with a symbol that evokes "powerlessness"...and being bewildered by it.

Mind you, the vampire's fear of the cross isn't all-pervasive in vampire folklore. David Keyworth even argues for their inefficacy (mainly against revenants) in the "Vampire-Slayers and Christian Paraphernalia" chapter of Troublesome Corpses: Vampires & Revenants, from Antiquity to the Present (Southend-on-Sea: Desert Island Books, 2007), pp. 142-48.

Let's say the lore is hardly consistent.

Oh, and just to give credit where it's due, I came across Clark's article via David Wong's "6 Popular Monsters Myths (That Prove Humanity Is Doomed)".

Breathing Life into Romanian Folklore

As I previously mentioned, Justin Blair, one of the directors of Across the Forest (2009), sent me a copy of his documentary for review. I finally settled in to watch it yesterday, armed with my trusty Presstick exercise book, for note-taking purposes.

Across the Forest's DVD cover (Courtesy of Andrew M. Boylan)

The first thing that struck me about the film, was no title menu. It just leaped straight into the flick. So, don't expect any special features with this one, folks.

We begin with a middle-aged man recounting the story of a mysterious wolf (said to be "a strigoi"), which turns out to bookend the film. The strigoi are frequently said to be Romanian vampires; one blogger even goes so far as to say "the word for vampire in Romanian is strigoi". No, it's not.

The word for vampire in Romanian is (wait for it), vampir. Meanwhile, strigoi translates as "ghost" or "specter". However, as becomes readily apparent, it shares many characteristics with the revenant.

These characteristics are notable in the next account, an old man who claims he was "haunted" (he actually uses that term) for nearly three years, by a strigoi that lived in a mulberry tree, "crying like a mother who lost a child". The interesting thing is, the dispassionate reference to "a strigoi", when, it turns out the strigoi was actually a relative. We only find this out when the old man is prompted off-camera ("The strigoi was your father-in-law?").

His narrative seems disjointed: when asked if he was scared of it, he said no, and would go to look for it in his attic. What spurred him into doing this if it lived in a mulberry tree?

The spectral qualities of the strigoi are evident again, when he says he would turn on the light, and it'd disappear, only to start howling.

He went to priests for help, "but they failed in their work". This motif is found in the ninth chapter of David Keyworth's Troublesome Corpses: Vampires & Revenants, from Antiquity to the Present (Southend-on-Sea, Essex: Desert Island Books, 2007).

The way the old man handles the situation invokes heresy, cynicism, folkloric practicality and resourcefulness:


"Playing both sides?" asks the interviewer. "What else can you do? Nothing," the old man says.

And here we play on the revenant angle again, when he mentions that the strigoi was dressed in its burial clothes.

When asked if others believe "this", he said, "Others say they don't believe, but even the priests know these things happen." He was asked if his neighbors believe in such things. He says, "Without experiences people don't believe." He goes onto emphasise just what kind of beings these strigoi are: "But spirits do return, and Satan can come back disguised as the dead."

The next account, by an old woman, discusses the events that converted her from being a skeptic to becoming involved in dispatching an alleged strigoi with the help of its nephew.

The ensuing stories (not all of them about strigoi) range from personal accounts to friend-of-a-friend stories. But what remains consistent is the seeming conviction these elderly peasant folk have in the tales they tell, and it's hard not to be swept away by it all.


Some of them express frustration with the relative lack of belief in such things by the present generation. One elderly man blames television for this change:

"They don't need advice. They don't listen to anybody."

"They don't listen to anybody?"

"They are stupid as a box of rocks. That's how I see it."

"Because they have television?"

"Of course. Can you learn everything by yourself? When you are together with other people, they change your thoughts. You hear new things. You gather stories from strangers. Different people and different places. But if you never listen to people then you die stupid."

In light of the continuing debate over TV potentially causing brain rot, it's an interesting assessment.

As to the stories themselves, in essence, what makes them different from people who receive visits from their dead Aunty Mabel or claim they were taken aboard alien spacecraft for a jolly good probing?

The candor of the subjects can be quite surprising at times. I laughed when one of the elderly women described an incubus attack on her grandmother, in the following manner:


Speaking of which, some of the folkloric parallels were also quite startling to me. The story of St. Toader's Horses was like a gender-switch of the Scottish glaistig; there was the use of a horse to track down the undead, a precedent found in other vampire folklore, as well as the motivation behind scattering seeds (or, in this case, dirt) as a form of spell to keep the strigoi entombed.

The old lady who helped dispatch the strigoi (as mentioned earlier), also noted that the corpse's mouth "twisted and sneered" after it was impaled. The corpse's "living" reaction is also found in other vampire accounts.

You'll notice that I've primarily focused on the stories, rather than the film itself. That's because the very drive and focus of the film, is the stories being told. It isn't awash with flashy techniques and isn't even narrated. Essentially, it's a living folkloric record, occasionally interspersed with evocative (though amateurish) drawings of events being described.

Some portions are quite superfluous, like the slideshow of random countryside images accompanied by a crescendo of music after the pact-with-the-Devil bloke's account. I found the use of these photographs somewhat questionable, as they don't seem to have an immediate relevancy to the film. The depiction on the cover, itself, doesn't connect to the "plot". There's also a shot of someone's dinner during the end credits. Why? I don't think they needed to resort to such filler.

I also had an issue with fade outs, as a lot of them took longer than they should. There's also a section of the film showing the filmmakers driving, fixing a car and drinking, all in night-vision, which was pretty pointless.

The segment on "Dracula's place" after the end credits was totally irrelevant and undermined the film before it. Should've been edited out.

You'll also note that I haven't referred to any of the subjects by name, and instead used "elderly man", etc. That's because their names don't appear during the film. You have to wait till the credits roll, when there's an "In Order of Appearance" list, which is somewhat frustrating. I think the ages of the participants and their locations could also have been disclosed. This is being mindful of regional variants in folkloric accounts, from which a comparison could be drawn. Instead, we're left with the occasional mentions the participants make themselves.

Overall, this is a very straightforward documentary, practically unembellished (although I was a little uncomfortable with the [admittedly] few prompts by the interviewers). The music is superb and quite atmospheric. Despite my criticisms, I would even go so far as to say this doco is an invaluable contribution to Romanian folklore studies.

Even if you're not into the field, it makes compelling viewing in its own right. I actually sat in silence through large portions of it, so absorbed was I in the tales they told. Fascinating viewing.

Anchev's Vampires

I recently gave some coverage to Bulgarian vampire folklore.

Today, I received a Bulgarian book about Bulgarian vampire folklore in the mail.

It's Анатол Анчев [Anatol Anchev]'s Вампирите в българския фолклор: фолклористични и аналитичнопсихологически аспекти [Vampirite v bŭlgarskii︠a︡ folklor: folkloristichni i analitichnopsikhologicheski aspekti] (Sofii︠a︡ : Lege Artis, 2008).

I initially stumbled across it in the Library of Congress' catalogue and decided I had to add it to my collection.

Can't read the damn thing, mind you, but it's a nice little curio.

Vampires in Bulgaria

S. G. B. St. Clair and Charles A. Brophy's Twelve Years' Study of the Eastern Question in Bulgaria (1877) is commonly cited as a source on vampires in Bulgarian folklore.

But what probably isn't as well-known, is that the book's actually a revised edition of their 1869 work, A Residence in Bulgaria, or Notes on the Resources and Administration of Turkey.

Compare an excerpt from the 1877 book against the 1869's chapter on Bulgarian superstitions.

Interesting Results

Lindsay's blog entry, "Friday Giveaway Take 3", asks a prurient question:

There were 18 responses to her request and this is where it gets interesting.

Even though Lindsay's blog primarily concentrates on vampire fiction, 14 of the respondents said they'd like more coverage given to vampire myth!

One of the commentators, joder, even suggested the following:

I like the inclusion of myths, maybe you could get a professor to blog about the topic on a regular basis (we can have our own Dr. Sanguinary).

With all the coverage currently given to Twilight, True Blood and, to a lesser extent, The Vampire Diaries, I was starting to think that the Vampire Fad's been driven by characterisations, not vampires themselves.

That is, it's not that we've become enamoured of bloodsuckers, but of characters (like Edward Cullen) who just happen to be vampires. Vampire Celebrities, if you will. Flavours of the Month.

Thus, the results from Lindsay's blog entry do give me some inspiration. After all, there's much more to the rich fabric of the Vampire Universe than what Stephenie Meyer, Anne Rice or even Bram Stoker have contributed to it.

Of course, I should admit to a personal bias here.

I'm much more interested in vampire folklore; the "myths" most likely referred to by Lindsay and her respondents. However, the late Alan Dundes criticised using the term "myth" in reference to vampires. Here's what he wrote in The Vampire: A Casebook (Madison, Wisconsin: The University of Wisconsin Press, 1998):

The use of the word myth to refer to stories of the vampire is anathema to the professional folklorist. For the folklorist, myth is a technical term referring to sacred narratives explaining how the world or humankind came to be in their present form. Because encounters with vampires, real or imagined, having nothing whatever to do with the creation of the world or humankind, they do not qualify as bona fide myths. Nor are such stories "folktales," which are fictional, as indicated by an opening formula (e.g., "Once upon a time"), signalling that what follows is not to be taken as literal, historical truth. Vampire accounts are what folklorists call legends, that is, stories told as true and set in the postcreation world (159).

In terms of fictional literary tastes, you'll have to scour through "Hi Angela!" to see the type that appeals to me.