I’m nearing the end of my Dracula reread and want to jot down a few thoughts while they are still fresh.

This post contains major spoilers so just a heads up…

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In popular perception, the lore of Dracula (1897) may be centered around a brooding antihero and sexual tension, but the original novel yields a markedly different focus. Bram Stoker gives far more page time to spirituality than he does to sexuality. These latter scenes are lurid enough to unsettle the Victorian reader, but little time is given to them in either buildup or description. By contrast, what is revealed through the characters’ diary entries, telegrams, and phonograph recordings is a deep exploration of faith, which, along with friendship, becomes the binding force that propels all of them onward and sustains their courage.

As the deranged Renfield says, “the life is in the blood” (Leviticus 17:11), and for Dracula, this is literally the case. He exists off a particular form of cannibalism and has managed to keep up his earthly existence for many centuries in this way. The action of drinking another’s blood is not one of physical lust (despite carrying such undertones); it is a lust after the other’s life itself.

Dracula collects souls as well as blood. In a ritualistic exchange, he binds the souls of his victims to himself, such that they become his slaves and trapped in a spiritual limbo. Damnation is inescapable unless they should be freed by another ritual, in which a stake is driven through their heart and their head is removed. This is what happens to Lucy Westenra in the novel, whose beautiful innocence is trapped in the lascivious shell of a vampire until Dr Van Helsing organizes an intervention and—one might say surgically—restores her soul by mutilating her body.

Van Helsing reveals other lore piecemeal as the story goes on. Garlic blossoms and crucifixes repel a vampire, while wild roses contain him. The Blessed Sacrament—from Catholicism, Anglicanism, and other liturgical churches—is the most devastating deterrent to vampires, and the doctor wields it sparingly, out of reverence.

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What is a Christian reader to make of all these references? Is it all dangerous superstition and irreverent handling of sacred objects?

When I first read Dracula back in 2012, I found some of the religious content to be problematic, and my main criticism still stands. Barring any ambiguity about Lucy—for we don’t get to know her very well before she’s gone—poor Mina Harker’s “capture” by the Count is both lurid and theologically ridiculous. Mina demonstrates total fidelity throughout the novel, and if we take her to be as devout as she is described over and over again, there is no power on earth or in hell that could supplant the Holy Spirit within her (Romans 8:31-39). Even after her becoming “tainted,” she still professes her faith. For her to be in risk of damnation is taking Dracula’s power too far, and smells of some subtle misogyny on the author’s part. I may discuss the roles and depiction of women in another blog post…

In spite of such issues (and they are very deep issues), I have found upon rereading Dracula that the symbolic power of the book is profound. What I mean is that to read it at surface level, you find many holes and problematic concepts. Its strength is not at surface level, but in its underlying ideas.

Some classic horror stories lean into the occult pretty heavily, while others offer scientific explanations for mysterious happenings. Later writings, such as CS Lewis’s That Hideous Strength (1945), seek to conform myths to a Christian context. Dracula is notable in that it orients itself to the legend, without any apparent objectives like Lewis’s. This makes his portrayal of the Christian characters even more interesting, for while it would have been easy enough to minimize their beliefs, Stoker instead amplifies them. Prayer, faithfulness, and fear of God are recurring elements. In its most Roman Catholic angle, the Real Presence in the Host is implied when the wafer is brought out against Dracula and burns a mark upon Mina. What other Victorian novel takes on spiritual themes so boldly, and in such a context as Gothic horror? Perhaps there is one, but I am not sure.

Is there any parallel, however, between the elaborate lore of vampires and the real challenges Christians face in the world? I felt this time around that Dracula can be read as a metaphor for spiritual attack, severe depression, or even addiction. That may sound odd, but I could not shake off the notion that Dracula, at core, represents some evil influence in our lives, one that feeds off us and tries to make us reliant on it—or in the case of depression, tries to consume all our waking moments. There is a relentless anxiety in this novel, which I did not notice before but was nearly oppressive upon rereading. Some of that may be projection on my part, but the more I viewed the novel in this light, the more I felt its value as a symbol greater than its parts.

Even the aesthetic and “ornamental” aspects of Dracula are important. The lowly (and smelly) garlic plant, the wild rose (with all its own Christian symbolism), and the words of the Anglican burial service each play a role. Dr Van Helsing represents the best sort of man, giving his last days to combat generational violence as personified by the vampire. Mina may be limited by the “Victorian angel” trope, but she shares something in common with Frodo of The Lord of the Rings, which is that in a story with hellish foes you hope also to have a glimpse of earthly angels. And finally, while the death of Lucy is grotesque and horrifying, it nonetheless carries with it the Christian belief that one’s soul must be preserved at any cost, even if it means a loss of life (as in the case of martyrs).

I cannot describe Dracula‘s theology systematically—it is a hodge-podge of Christian beliefs, folklore and superstitions, and Stoker’s own ideas. The good are very good, and the bad are very bad. Out of this, however, arises a larger religious framing that is striking and even lovely. In the quieter moments between the melodrama and long drawn-out speeches, I have found myself looking inwards and matching metaphor to truth.