I’m not afraid to admit it.
I’m a sucker for vampires (haha, bad pun), but seriously…
You really, really, really, really have to screw with the vampire myth to make me stop reading. Your vampires go out in sunlight? I’m cool with that. Your vampires are fat? I’m cool with that. Your vampires actually suck ink from books rather than blood from veins? Yep, I’m down with that. Hand it over.
Here’s a vampire book I picked up at the library, so, just a day after you thought I dropped out of the blogosphere forever, I bring you:
(I vant to suck your blood)
Not going to lie, (LaVar Burton would be disappointed) I chose this book because of its cover. I mean, look at that. I am a fan of raw and that looks RAW. Exposed. Vulnerable.
Now, I’m not a shallow person. Good writing is good writing is good writing. I would read a good book no matter what image was plastered on the front of it, but this sings to you from the shelves in a sort of visceral way that’s a little uncomfortable if you think about it too much.
And, then there’s the title, when matched with the cover, makes you a little queasy. Like you’re getting punched in the stomach.
The thing is: the significance of the throat comes up in the narrative. And, it’s awesome. Also, creepy.
R.A. Nelson spins the story of Emma. She’s 17 years old and is attacked by a vampire one evening. However, during the attack, she has a Grand Mal seizure, disrupting her attacker. While she has some sensitivity to sunlight, she gains all the strengths and none of the weaknesses.
In order to save her family, Emma runs away from home and takes up residence in an abandoned section of a NASA base and prepares to confront her attacker in order to return home without fear of him finding her and killing her family.
The book is lyrical, and smooth from start to finish. The romance is honest. While Emma starts out a bit unsympathetic, the reader quickly settles into the character’s mindset and discovers why she is what she is.
While Nelson brought in some great worldbuilding, there were new concepts being introduced late in the game that were unimportant to the story (unless there are plans on sequel, series, etc.). Whether red herring or makings of a series, some of the details were distracting in their lack of significance to the plot. You can usually weed out what can be ignored.
The first ten pages of Throat were like reading a poem. There was something in the rhythm, the imagery, and the vocabulary that swept me along to a point where I didn’t realize I was past ten pages until I was on twenty-five.
I’ve been gone so long, I forgot how to end these things so, um, here’s a bat.