I have to admit that one of my all time favorite books is Dracula by Bram Stoker. When I was interviewed for a scholarship centered around books and the love for books I was asked “Why do you love Dracula so much?” Sometimes I’m not amazing at getting everything I’m thinking out of my head and into comprehensible and cohesive thoughts. The first shaky words I replied with were “I guess I don’t think about the story the same way everyone else does. I think of it as a romance, not a horror story filled with gore and violence and monsters.” I think I got my point across and that I made an impression because I was awarded the scholarship. I love the way Mina falls for Dracula, despite still loving John. However, instead of feeling like Dracula is the monster and antagonist, I pity him and truly think he loves Mina, even if it might just be the resemblance between Mina and his wife who had committed suicide. He didn’t become a vampire because he wanted to be immortal and have to live out his existence feeding off of blood and living a desolate life. He turned his back on God and was turned into a vampire because the ideals of the time in Christianity were that those who committed suicide did not receive a burial and service like those who died in other ways. This anger translates to an action in which I can only say is immense love and affection for his wife.
Thus, to me Dracula is a novel filled with a romance that leaves a reader wanting more than the small ending by John. Every time I think of Dracula I think romance, I think evening gowns, I think Victorian era, I think of elegance and high class. This story makes me want silk and satin and lots of lace, with dark deep reds and different shades of blacks and grays and darkened blues.
Because of the novel my sketch book has been filled with exquisite gowns that can describe how the novel makes me feel better than any combination of words.
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