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5.0étoiles sur 5
Even After Eight Years..., Fév 23 2004
I suspect that this book's detractors were either (a) looking for something else entirely or (b) smoking large amounts of crack. This book is a gem, something I ran into at a used book-shop, something more a rarity these days than it was eight years ago, what with the advent of online purchasing. It was tucked away in a dark corner with a glut of other vampire literature, and as I sat perusing these books and their contents, I came to know Jander Sunstar. Jander, next to Louis in Rice's "Interview With the Vampire" (and ONLY this book), really struck me as a powerful metaphor on so many levels. The metaphor of a self-loathing vampire has only been explored successfully in these two books and in the Batman graphic novel trilogy (Red Rain, Bloodstorm, and Crimson Mist).We have a metaphor here for depression: vampirism. They wander alone, they hate themselves for their needs, yet cannot escape them. I have lived a very similar life, though nothing nearly so fantastical. Jander really broke my heart, the way he spoke with one girl that Strahd had left for him: "You know that I will hurt you as little as possible, and take only the minimal amount I need, right?" And even after calming her, he hates himself for taking what he needs. Jander and Batman were taken by treachery amidst noble deeds, Louis seduced at his point of greatest sorrow: the point is, they hate what they are, yet see no way out. They do what good they can amidst evil they know they will have to pay for. Whenever I get good and depressed, not leaving my room for days at a time or speaking to another living soul, I find myself thinking of Louis, the transformed Batman ...and of Jander Sunstar. Jander, who loved music and light, and all growing things. Jander, who haunted the night and the ruined castle like a sorrowful ghost given substance. Jander, who loved deeply, who felt deeply, yet could only be harmed by this conscience he took with him everywhere. Yet, perhaps his sorrow could be his penance for the horror that he had become... Like "Interview," this book shows what time means to a vampire, how swiftly it can pass. Yet it also shows how a single day can decide the tempo and color of decades to come, as well. I prefer Golden's depiction of Strahd, feeling that later books seek to make him less of a monster, but at least in my opinion, failing miserably. No amount of explanation can make Strahd even an anti-hero, let alone account for the horrors he has perpetrated. And I am not entirely certain that the personal hell he lives in is sufficient to make up for the things he has done....
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