I first happened across M.T. Anderson‘s work after hearing rave reviews of The Astonishing Life of Octavian Nothing, which is a quite frankly marvellous young adult historical novel set in Colonial Boston during the time of the American Revolution. Listening to a podcast of Anderson’s erudite presentation at the State Library in Victoria, Australia further endeared his work to me, and I have since been on the lookout for the rest of his oeuvre. One book of which, I’m pleased to note, popped into my possession for the sum of a dollar. One can hardly complain. (Okay, the deal was 10 books for $10, so I have quite a bit of reading to report on in the coming weeks)

The book in question was Thirsty, Anderson’s debut novel, which appeared in 1997, almost a decade before the publication of the first of the two volumes of Octavian Nothing.

Thirsty is a teenage coming of age vampire novel, and superseded much of the urban fantasy and vampire stuff that’s filling the shelves today. This is a good thing, as even against the current context of all things fangy and sparkly, Thirsty still feels quite fresh in terms of its narrative and its approach to vampirism. The book itself has a bit of a dated feel, of course, and Anderson’s prose is nowhere near the level of his current work, but in general Thirsty is an interesting take on the vampire mythology.

The book is set in an alternate America where vampirism is commonplace, and accusations of vampirism and subsequent lynchings are eerily normal. Anderson opens Thirsty against the backdrop of one such show trial, and it’s quite creepy to watch the apparently morally upright crowd watch with bloodlust as a vampire is put to death. In fact, main character Chris munches on a takeaway snack from McDonald’s as the event goes down, and the contrast between his indifference and the violence of the scene is quite striking.

Anderson deliberately sets this up, of course, as it is here that we realise that something is not quite right with Chris, who has been plagued by an unusual hunger and physical discomfort over recent weeks. We find out soon enough that Chris is himself succumbing to vampirism, and it’s fascinating to watch Anderson’s treatment of his predicament. The focus here is not so much as Chris-as-vampire, but rather Chris-as-outsider, and the larger part of the novel, references to vampire overlords and shadowy henchmen aside, examines the way Chris deals with this new persona that has been thrust upon him by puberty. Chris struggles to maintain his relationships with his friends, given that his thoughts and interests lie elsewhere now, and as the narrative progresses, his alienation from them, and from his family, grows to a painful degree.

While there are some disappointing elements to this book–largely the vampire overlord subplot–the real beauty of Thirsty is in Anderson’s intriguing treatment of the standard coming of age drama through a lens of vampirism. The book is not entirely successful in what it sets out to achieve, but it’s a thoughtful and curious examination of alienation and loss.