What good is life if its one and only fate is to die?
…
The vampire continues to die. Forever.
Marcus Hawke's "You Can't Take It With You" - which I'm rating with 3 1/2 stars - is certainly a quick read that I would recommend to all of my fellow vampire story fans… with a few caveats. Even though I had very mixed feelings about the overall execution, which I'll address shortly, it is still an interesting tale from start to finish, especially as it takes a unique approach to the creation of our vampire and even the philosophy behind his decision. The bit about his origin is not entirely explained, at least not enough for my liking, but still, respect for the new slant on things. And combining that with the very human aspect of facing the end of one's mortal time on Earth was very poignant.
Watching himself age was the scariest thing he had ever known.
Continuing to stay positive for a moment, I was utterly thrilled with several aspects, including that wonderful cover as well as to discover that the book takes place for the most part squarely in the cozy confines of New York City. Having only visited as a tourist once (no, taxi rides to and from work don't count), I love being able to place where things transpire and imagine that I may have been out and about when above me a vampire was leaping from building to building in search of his next meal. In fact, we see how things progress from the days of the turn of the century - that's from the 19th to the 20th centuries by the way - to Christmas Eve, 1984. To say that our "protagonist" Montgomery Nolan, born December 11th, 1894 lived through some of the most interesting times is an understatement at best.
We are always too young to die. It’s never enough.
Again, we are given an extremely thorough look at Montgomery's rise from near poverty to being if not on the same level as the Rockefellers or Rothschilds then definitely living the comfortable life afforded to the 1% of the 1%, noting he clearly found that all "the high society types were all the same. Vapid, self-absorbed, neurotic twits." Still, though we rarely see it these days, his is the kind of story that gave birth to the idea of the American dream, even with its ups, downs, and perhaps even further downs as he loses "loved" ones to both world wars in one capacity or another. I have to be honest though as I had trouble finding much to sympathize with him about in terms of his deep and often longing look back at his life. Even the author underlines much of it with the simple phrase: "The grass may be greener, but it was full of snakes." I mean, ok, he ultimately married an utter bitch and missed out for most of his life on true love or any meaningful friendships. But to me that was just more of a "welcome to the real world" aspect than anything else, you know, so hike up your skirt and get on with it!
Nothing lasts forever except pain, and misery, and death.
I do, however, appreciate that the author took the time and provided details to Montgomery's daily reality, namely, "Every day was a struggle now. Every day filled with aches and pains." Or if you prefer: "Everything hurts and I’m dying. And what’s worse is that I’m terrified of it." But you don't have to be 90 to realize how time catches up with all of us and even if we consider ourselves in terrific condition (I'm not), being 60 is not the same as being 30, especially if your kids are closer to the latter than you are. So, yeah, 90 sounds tough and Hawke makes that extremely clear. Again though, these were … oh what can we call them? … self-evident truths rather than anything ground-breaking. It did put the reader in the right frame of mind to understand what was about to happen next, on the day our "hero" decides is his last ("I’m tired of it. Tired of being afraid of the end. It is time."). Still, putting too much emphasis on things like gray hairs - noting I was half-gray by age 20 and fully white from head-to-toe by my mid-30s (but at least I still have hair, dammit!!!) - was less than effective to me.
He had to die in order to find beauty in death.
Now there is one aspect that will definitely stay with me: interestingly enough, the "v-word" does not appear until around the 40% mark of the actual book. It is at this point that the author began to lose, well, not my interest but my very positive look at what was being presented. Don't get me wrong: the entire book is written with a flowing, almost lyrical prose that I found both alluring as well as extremely quotable. Unfortunately, whereas we had taken quite a bit of time to get to know Montgomery and his first 90 years of existence, now we were rushing through his last DAY of existence like we were rushing from an out-of-control inferno (ok, I guess seeing the sun for him would count as that). Why Hawke didn't slow down and really let us take a long look at the literal blood-thirsty monster that is born and tears his way through the city that never sleeps is beyond me. This was especially true knowing what delicious feasts awaited our newly baptized blood-sucker in the form of all the yuppies gallavanting about through their requisite mid-80s debauchery filled with sexual exploration and enough drugs to fuel rock'n'rollers for all eternity. All kidding aside, I ultimately found the lack of MORE unique scenes really confusing and it wound up being a thorough letdown for me.
From blood came the bliss. The sustenance. The satisfaction.
Yes, I get that we wanted Monty's shock and dismay at how things did NOT magically improve after his transformation to be very clear. And it was! But I still think that could have been as well-accomplished over a course of several days vs. just up until the next morning's sunrise. For me then, there were just too many aspects of the plot that were far too rushed and far too unexplored. For example, I found it beyond reason that our new vampire just instantly became a master of all his new powers, ranging of course from the ability to sense and hunt for blood, the usual increased strength and speed, ability to traverse great distances both vertical and horizontal, and even his new-found mental acuities. And even when our newly formed vampire met a group of other vampires as well as a vampyre, with the mystical spelling and all, to miss this opportunity to fill out the story was for me an extreme disappointment. There were other examples as well, from his sudden charity to a cold and hungry waif, his potential amorous dealings with his long-time care-taker, and more where I just felt, well, cheated. Put it this way: the author's skills supported more!
Come, oblivion. Let all I am, whatever I am, finally end.
Otherwise stated, it was my impression that Hawke seemed more anxious than I to get to the end of this story. And again, that just left me feeling very unsatisfied, particularly as I was really enjoying this bloody romp through NYC and getting my total word-lover thrills at the writing itself! I mean, if we want to make comparisons, you can look to Christopher Buehlman's "The Lesser Dead", which was for me another well-written and highly fascinating vampire story centered in NYC. However, whereas Buehlman left me feeling sated, satisfied and more than a little terrified, my memory of this offer by Hawke will no doubt be that I wanted so, so much more. This is particularly true as the potential for more exposition and further fascinating aspects were teased throughout and just waiting for their chance to be explored.