Easy things first, it's notable that unlike the first two books,
Grave Peril doesn't contain any spectacularly
bad sentences, and does contain a couple of markedly good ones. We're probably going to talk a little bit more about prose and sentence structure as we move forward with this series, if only because as Jim Butcher becomes more consistent in his storytelling techniques, we're eventually going to run out of things to say about the way he does worldbuilding, foreshadowing, and character arcs that isn't "Oh, look, there it is again."
I must issue a small correction here: when we talked about Chapter 27 of Storm Front, I said I didn't think we saw the montage ending format again, but it does make an appearance here as well. For that matter, I just looked at my post for the last chapter of Fool Moon, and apparently it happened there too, so either this is an early series thing that gets dropped at some point, or it's a consistent thing that I just utterly failed to retain.
The plot here genuinely doesn't make sense. Let's ignore the wine at Bianca's party having vampire venom in it, assume that was just recreational and that Harry's notions of her not expecting him to come, or poisoning all the wine on extremely short notice were the result of his deeply impaired judgement. Let's assume that she had both the ability and opportunity to mind control Susan into getting a copy made of Harry's invitation. (This is not to say that Susan might not have done it without being mind controlled, but there's no way Bianca could reasonably have planned for that). She still couldn't reasonably have counted on Harry coming to the party, or on his bringing a plus one, especially with the Nightmare putting Murphy out of commission. She couldn't reasonably have planned on his not just claiming protection for Susan. More to the point, she couldn't reasonably have planned on Lea bringing her the sword, unless Lea was entirely in on this from the very beginning, which seems pretty unlikely given her behavior in this book and what she and Mab express about her priorities in later books. Without Amoracchius, she has no real leverage over Harry. Ortega was plainly aiming to start a war (although, why?), but Bianca's plan had like, at least three potential outcomes where Harry was concerned, only one of which involved the war. He could as easily have been killed, either at the party or by Susan in the laundry room, and might have agreed to become a vampire and stay with her and Susan, and it's not at all clear what outcome she was aiming at. If this were Nicodemus, I would assume that all outcomes were considered acceptable wins here, but Bianca doesn't strike me as that type.
I still don't feel like I understand the use of imagery associated with addiction narratives here. It's all over the place but it doesn't really go anywhere. No one in this book really goes through an addiction arc. No one in this series really goes through an addiction arc. Rachel was addicted to vampire venom, but that doesn't seem to affect her choices, or her role in the story, now that she's a ghost. Stallings is apparently addicted to nicotine, but I'm not sure that's ever even mentioned again, and it's certainly not handled by the story as an addiction thing. Justine's situation with Thomas actually isn't presented as an addiction. And while this could have been setting Harry up for long term issues around vampire venom, it mostly doesn't. Lydia might be a drug addict, and someone explicitly suggests as much, but the only time we know of her actually using drugs on purpose, it was to stay awake so she couldn't be possessed by the Nightmare. Come to think of it, after the Three Eye in the first book, addiction is mostly not an issue for anyone in this series, unless I'm forgetting something. Nick Christian is an alcoholic, and the Red King is a blood slave, but they're in one book each and I have difficulty with this notion of someone being addicted to something they literally and straightforwardly need to live. (I am familiar with the concept of food addiction. Not here to challenge how anyone understands their own lived experience, but the Red King is not a real person, has no lived experience, and does not display the behaviors typically associated with food addiction). I guess Mort is an alcoholic in this one, but that doesn't really go anywhere either. On that note, sort of.
List of things we're keeping an eye on, as of the end of Fool Moon:
- The series' difficult relationship with the law and law enforcement.
- Susceptibility of those who serve the law to psychic trauma and manipulation.
- Harry
has a major vulnerability to things that make stuff hurt less, because
he is always in serious physical and emotional discomfort. What is this
doing thematically?
- The parallel development of the text's attitude towards women and Harry's attitude towards women.
- The inadequacy of systems compared to individual judgement and action.
- Sometimes ingredients for different potions are weirdly similar. Why?
- They
"have nots" of the magical community are largely of lower socioeconomic
status. Why? It makes sense that powerful magic users can make money if
they want, but shouldn't there be minor practitioners who come from
money? Where are they?
Additions to this list, accumulated throughout Grave Peril:
- What languages are used for spellcasting, and by whom.
- Harry's relationship to violence, sexuality, and power, and how that's informed by the sexual trauma he experienced in the late chapters of Grave Peril.
- Influences from Young Wizards, Wheel of Time, and Valdemar.
- Is Harry going to give his life (in the sense of either "devote" or "sacrifice") to God?
Malone and Murphy both get got here. Nightmare Kravos possesses Lydia, but the ones he inflicts serious, lasting psychic harm on are the cops. So this throughline is definitely still being built upon, even if we don't yet have any indication what it's about, except that it's interacting with both the series more general difficulty with law enforcement and the inadequacy of systems. Lydia was left lying about loose when they took down Kravos. Kravos was put in regular prison and was able to orchestrate the whole Nightmare thing, because they weren't equipped to deal with him. The cops keep Harry out of the loop about Kravos's suicide because it's police business, where if they'd told him, if Murphy had told him, I think there's about a 70% chance Harry could have basically solved the plot and spent the rest of the book resting off that first concussion rather than accumulating four more. Murphy having been awake for two days was, y'know, probably a factor here, both in her not telling him about Kravos and her being in a position for him to get into her head like that. So just the sheer physical exhaustion often imposed on law enforcement is probably an ongoing factor here, although the former may also be a certain amount of turnabout as fair play, especially given that both Harry and Jim Butcher forgot that Harry didn't actually keep anything secret from Murphy in Fool Moon. We also see some complication to the inadequacy of systems things here, in the form of the Church's supernatural witness protection program. Lydia is the first character thus wrapped up (the Sellses having gone into regular witness protection), and as far as we know, everyone who ends up there is safe and looked after. Harry's vulnerability to things that make him hurt less is definitely on display here, with the vampire venom.
On the misogyny score, this book actually...does pretty well, especially compared to its predecessors? It's got a lot of women in it, which is always a good start. You can still be very misogynistic while having a lot of female characters, obviously, but it's much easier to make clear that a woman displaying a trait that could reasonably be understood as a misogynistic stereotype does not reflect the text's or author's view on women as a group when she's contrasted against lots of other women who don't display that trait. Charity, Lea, Mavra, and Justine are all introduced here, Lydia is load-bearing if not especially well handled, and Sonia, although she doesn't get a lot of depth or screen time, at least gets to be likeable and competent. The only substantial on-page misogyny here, at least that I can find in my notes, is towards Lydia, although that's... significant. Like Harry is really weird about this girl. In Chapters 4 and 15 both, he thinks her willingness to engage in survival sex is suspicious, possibly indicative of involvement with the Nightmare, rather than just, y'know, she's a young woman with few resources at her disposal other than her looks and other people's willingness to take advantage. To say nothing of the assumption that her being victimized by the Nightmare indicates some kind of cooperation with it. That's...not a good look. She's also pretty low on agency here, but that's where the Lots of Women helps. Charity also gets something of the damsel in distress treatment here, but she's instrumental in her own rescue from the Nightmare at the cemetery. Murphy is taken off the board pretty early in the book, but it's honestly hard not to see that as a compliment - if she'd been able to participate, the plot would have been solved too fast, so Butcher had to get her out of the way. We've already talked extensively about how good Susan is in this book, and how Butcher goes out of his way at several points to avoid falling into easy sexist tropes or conventional gender dynamics between her and Harry. Paula is arguably kind of fridged here, I mean, she very much did die to motivate her romantic partner, that was a pretty significant thing that happened. However like, she was fridged for the villain's motivation, she's a woman fridged for another woman's motivation, and she exercises agency and is in fact instrumental in the defeat of the very villain she died to motivate. So while I won't say that this deserves a pass or anything, it's still fridging, it is at least an unusual and somewhat subverted instance thereof. Certain amount of Bury Your Gays, though. Relatedly, Bianca's motives are not at all feminized - wanting revenge about a dead girlfriend is generally something that happens to male characters - although Mavra's are. Speaking of which, the uh, the exorsexism. On the offchance that you're not up on your queer oppression vocabulary, that's hate towards or discrimination against nonbinary, intersex, or altersex people, typically reflecting the belief that it is unnatural, immoral, or impossible for someone to be anything other than entirely and obviously male or entirely and obviously female. Mavra's being referred to as "it" might be a simple piece of species-appropriate dehumanizaton for someone who is both very evil and like, markedly dead, but her physical androgyny, especially as it stands in contrast to her very feminized desire to avenge her murdered children and grandchildren, makes this feel a lot more like the violent degendering of a woman with an ambiguous presentation, and that would be uncool even if it weren't explicitly validated in Harry's perspective, and combined with the repeated assertions that Mavra isn't a lady, isn't a woman, et cetera. They're just this side of harassing her out of a public restroom, honestly. And then we have that crack about the ken doll being anatomically correct, which I think we already talked about as much as we needed to in the chapter in which it occurred, but I'm noting here for posterity.
One of the awkward things about vampires is that you have to talk about their literary sources as much as their mythological sources if you want to be at all thorough, and the literary sources are all over the damn place. To the best of my knowledge, none of the vampire types in The Dresden Files are an exact match for any previous literary or mythological vampire or type of vampire, but nearly all their traits have some precedent. We're going to focus on the Red Court here, and get into the Black and White courts in Blood Rites when we actually learn more than the most cursory details about them. Before we proceed, I should note that we are going to be talking about a lot of creatures whose names either have no standard spelling in the Latin alphabet, have no standard spelling at all, or have multiple similar names across the languages of different peoples. I have generally defaulted to the spelling that appears in the title of any given creature or entity's wikipedia page, from whence you should be able to find at least some of the other names or spellings.
If the narcotic venom has any direct mythological or folkloric antecedents, they are outside of both readily available vampire lore and my own (by no means comprehensive!) knowledge of mythology and folklore. This concept, as applied to vampires, seems to first appear in
Carmilla (which I unfortunately have not yet read), and likely bears a relationship to both the incubus and to sleep paralysis demons like the alp and the mare, both of which are blood drinkers, given the transition from pleasure to suffocation that Laura experiences when Carmilla feeds upon her. Given the nature of the central relationship in
Carmilla, I probably should have read it at some point while working on
Grave Peril, but I didn't
know about the lesbian vampire situation until I started writing this post. Being fed upon as an ecstatic, potentially addictive experience, was sufficiently thought of by 1991 to be codified in the first edition of
Vampire the Masquerade, from whence it was transmitted to the urban fantasy of the era, even if
Vampire's own literary precedents were not among any given author's influences. I don't know if Jim Butcher has read vampire, but I know he played
Changeling, so I'd be very surprised if he hadn't.
Storm Front itself is the earliest text with which I am personally familiar that specifically makes the source of ecstasy in being fed upon a venom. The only
mythological association I can find between anything resembling vampires and bats or batlike creatures is the Piuchén, a blood drinking snake or lizard with bird or bat wings from Mapuche mythology, which may be able to shapeshift, into the form of humans, plants, or other animals, and in some versions has a mixed form with animal features.
Many mythological vampires or other blood drinkers have some ability to shapeshift, but their inhuman form is not a bat or something batlike. In the 1870 novel (strictly speaking a series of short stories)
Vikram and the Vampire by Sir Richard Burton, the "vampire" in question, a baital (aka a vetala and like, 6 other similar names because local variation in pronunciation plus Englishmen trying to spell foreign words) is described in the preface as "a
huge Bat, Vampire, or Evil Spirit which inhabited and animated dead
bodies", although the only batlike quality it appears to display in the text is hanging upside down by its toes (I haven't read this one in its entirety either, just skimmed it). Aside from being associated with dead bodies and often malevolant, the vetala as it appears in mythology does not seem to have any particularly vampiric qualities. Vampires, as such, turning into bats, as such, appears to originate with
Dracula, and was certainly codified by it, and the association of vampires with bats appears to have come about sometimes between the 1500s and the 1800s, when white people became aware of blood drinking bats (first referred to as "vampire bats" in 1810) in the Americas. The bat form the Red Court vampires take is, however, seems to draw heavily from Camazotz, a Mayan bat spirit that spreads disease, and which
probably serves the lords of the underworld. In the Popol Vuh, they're a type of thing, rather than a thing, and give the Hero Twins some trouble, but the Popol Vuh was strictly oral tradition for most of its existence, and our oldest written records of it are from the early 18th century and were created by Dominican (in the sense of being part of the Domincan Order, not of being from the Dominican Republic) priest Francisco Ximenez, giving us something of a Snorri Sturlson problem, although that's honestly a much less severe problem than we
might have had under the circumstances. Per my partner, who actually has some background in this area, Ximenez is generally considered reliable. The flesh masks may reference the Caribbean soucouyant (also known as an asema, or simply a hag), who removes her skin before coming to drink your blood and is believed to be a syncreticization of french vampire folklore, the Yoruba Aje, and the Caribbean creatures (properly a category of creatures) called jumbees.
In mythology, most vampires are revanants - they were killed by a vampire, or were fed upon by a vampire and later died, or they met some other precondition for vampirism that caused them to become one after their death, although those upon whom a soucouyant feeds excessively may become one themselves without dying first. The half-turned junior vampires of the Red Court seem to be playing with both the psychic connection sometimes established between a vampire and its prey (I have not been able to confirm that this predates Carmilla), which is part of the "get fed upon by a vampire, die, rise as a vampire" deal, and with the dhampir, the child (traditionally the son) of a vampire and a human. In Albanian folklore, dhampir are mostly human, but can practice sorcery and see invisible vampires, may be unusually courageous, and traditionally kill their vampire parent (almost invariably their father). They eat regular food without issue, but may be able to extend their lives by drinking human blood. In I think mostly the 15 and 1600s, people claiming to be dhampir were sometimes hired to fight vampires other than their own parents, in order to rid a village of a vampire who was causing a plague or crop failure. In literature, the dhampir seems to have been popularized by Blade.
While they do not have all the classic vampire weaknesses (notably they are unbothered by garlic and, as far as I know, by hawthorn), most the the Reds' vulnerabilities (sunlight, holy symbols and holy water) are associated with folkloric vampires, with two notable exceptions: their inability to enter homes without an invitation, and their ability to be incapacitated by opening the blood reservoir in their bellies. Whether the "can't enter without an invitation" thing is even in Dracula is sort of a matter of interpretation, and certainly it does not seem to have applied to vampires before this point, although it certainly applied to the fae and a few similar things. Notably, the Red Court vampires of Dresden Files are to some extent creatures of the Nevernever, and separated from the fae more by taxonomy than origin. If the blood reservoirs have any literary source, I have not been able to discover it - they do not appear in Vampire: The Masquerade or Vampire: The Requiem (the source material for the former in particular consisting largely of comics I haven't read) - and do not appear in most contemporary urban fantasy. Instead, this seems to draw from the kappa, creatures of japanese folklore who occasionally drink blood (although for the most part they would rather have a cucumber) and who can be weakened by tricking them into spilling the reservoir of water on their heads (conventionally by bowing deeply, prompting them to do the same), and the Capelobo, a blood and brain eating therianthrope from Brazilian mythology, which might resemble a dog, tapir, or anteater, and which according to at least one source can only be defeated by shooting it in the navel. In this case this seems to be the matter of getting such a precise shot on a dangerous creature with a great deal of obscuring hair, but this is the only vampiric creature I'm aware of for which "get it in the stomach" is a conventional means of defeat.
Vampires living in societies with complex hierarchies and archaic titles seems to be a 20th century convention. Certainly it existed before 1991, but I cannot readily say from whence it came, although the aristocratic contexts of Dracula and Carmilla must have played a role in its development. Before embarking on this post, I had thought their extensive presence in Central and South America was codified by Vampire: The Masquerade, but if it was, it was not by any of the first three editions of the core rulebook (all other having been published after Grave Peril). So like, why South America? First of all, there's the vampire bats. All three of the world's extant blood drinking bat species live in South or Central America, so it's sort of reasonable to put vampire vampires there as well. Second, much of that area is a hot mess, politically and economically speaking, and if you're not familiar with how it got that way, "it's because of the vampires" probably seems like a reasonable, even antiracist proposition. The short answer is that this part of the world has repeatedly found itself on the expendable/exploitable end of US policies on everything from communism to paper manufacturing. The shorter version is that if you just blame Henry Kissinger, personally, for all of it, you'll be missing some nuance but close enough for government work, although Harry Anslinger probably deserves a dishonorable mention here as well. In a way, this plays with the Southern Gothic tradition, using supernatural creatures (not exclusively vampires) to talk about the various acts of colonialism, slavery, environmental exploitation, racism, and manoralism committed by white people in the Americas, and like, that's pretty accurate here. It is also worth noting that much of the US's fuckery with its southern neighbors was a lot harder to know about when Grave Peril was being written than it is today, as the documents surrounding US involvement with Operation Condor were not declassified until 1999, and there wasn't google yet. (The history of fuckery is long here, I don't know when other things might have been declassified, or how widely known they were prior to officially becoming knowable).Third, there are the persistent rumors, which I have largely encountered through talking to other humans in physical space, and which I have been utterly unable to source, that Hernan Cortes, Francisco Pizarro, or both, were vampires. Frankly this strikes me as at least as plausible as any other claim that a real historical person was a vampire. There may be a relationship between this and the pishtaco, a boogeyman who appears as a white man or mestizo and steals people's fat. He originates in what Wikipedia insists are rumors of conquistadors killing indigenous people to use their fat for medicines or to lubricate their guns. Personally I think they did do that. Like, it sounds reasonable. Fucking conquistadors. Anyway. Notably a pishtaco might be warded off by showing him a clove of garlic that has been pierced with a needle.
Anyway. Like I said we're gonna talk more about the other Vampire courts when we get to Blood Rites, but the other thing Grave Peril really introduces are ghosts, and there's enough here to be worth talking about without getting into stuff from later books.
If the spirits of the dead hanging out in the world of the living, or influencing our world from some kind of other side, is not a true cultural universal, it's pretty damn close. Of course, ghosts in the Dresden Files, while they seem to have some kind of consciousness, are not the real spirits of the people they resemble, but impressions left behind on the environment.
This idea originates with the 19th century notion of place memory, which is what it sounds like, the idea that sounds, events, or emotions could be stored in the places they happened and later retrieved by individuals with the right gifts or skills. Early members of the Society for Psychical Research - an organization which still exists, and which has been involved (more properly, members of which have been involved) with both the perpetuation and the debunking of numerous fraudulent psychic phenomena - considered place memory a possible explanation for hauntings. The idea of "ectoplasm" also dates to this period, and originates in roughly the same community. Originally it was conceived of as a gauzy material draped over mediums by the spirits with which they communicated. I note with interest that this would bear some visual similarity to a caul, the membrane that a very few (roughly 1 in 18,000) babies are born with, which has been associated with supernatural abilities in some parts of Europe since at least the early modern period, and in Romania indicates that the child will become a strigoi (a type of vampire) when it dies. It seems to have been noted spiritualist Arthur Conan Doyle who described it as a viscous, gelatinous substance, as is the case in
Dresden Files. I cannot find a literary or folkloric origin for ghosts only being able to interact with things related to their death or the trauma that caused them to exist, but it follows quite naturally from the fact that ghosts in folklore and legend generally only
do interact with people or things within some specified area of interest. In urban fantasy, which tends to want Rules, this pretty naturally translates into the idea that they only
can interact with those things.
Okay, I think that's everything. I'm working on the post for Wheel of Time season 3, but it might be a while. Hopefully not a "don't put it up until like a week before the next season" while, but a while. There's uh, a lot to unpack about the final episode. We'll get started on
Summer Knight sometime in the soonish, and I've got a couple of other posts in the works. I also had an Idea about this series, but I'll let you know more about that when it's past the "Could I actually do this?" stage. Until next time, be gay, do crimes, and read
all the things!