Reviewed by David Thayer

How Dracula Got His Groove Back

Elizabeth Kostova’s sprawling novel has garnered a lot of ink, much if it expressing ambivalence about the novel’s structure. She writes her tale in the first person, a technique that ambushes the reader when the point of view shifts from daughter to father. Each chapter ends in a suspense pocket, which is good if the story is linear, unintentionally funny as the author doubles back over decades. Our heroine is left tied to the proverbial railroad tracks so often that Vlad the Impaler takes on a Snidely Whiplash persona of thwarted villainy and cheesy suspense. The book is paced like a manual of arms, each component lovingly cleansed, wiped with a baby diaper, and reassembled with a blindfold on.

The genius of The Historian is Kostova’s interpretation of the Nineteenth Century English novel. She layers the text with exquisite details of places, meals, vistas, murals, sculptures, accents, odors and monasteries. Nothing deters her from telling the story her way, and that’s pretty gutsy. If you’ve suffered subdural hematoma brought on by speed reading, speed dialing, or watching MTV on a treadmill, this book is a welcome breath of rarefied air. As to Dracula, Kostova understands that Vlad can do the heavy lifting without sketching his wants and needs. We know what he wants. As her vulnerable band of researchers plod forward, we sense the dark cape over their heads. Kostova sets and resets her scenes, upping the ante with each episode, and overcomes the fashion of the times with the sheer weight of her deliberate vision.