Their roots are so different—one stemming from the superstitious fears of peasants during times of plague and the other from slaves made by poisoning and cutting out the victims’ tongues—but both have evolved so much, even just over the past few decades. Even more, there has been a strange weaving between their individual mythos, turning each into a varying display of horror, mindless creature, and humanity in its most primal form.
The first vampires I remember were in the Hammer films, with Christopher Lee turning an array of bouffant beauties into hissing vixens. I loved those films, as cheesy as some of them were. Bela Lugosi’s Dracula was excellent, but Christopher Lee added an even deeper sensual tone. In contrast, the first zombie film I remember seeing was Night of the Living Dead. George Romero forever altered the course of the zombie with that movie, pulling it from its African and Creole roots, transforming the buried alive into the walking dead.
From there, “undead” took on two meanings: vampire and zombie. Both are a plague upon humanity, that which consumes human lives in order to survive itself, but they also became symbols of human nature in its most basic, animalistic form. It’s not surprising that, on a similar note, vampires took on the sensual role they did; what is surprising is the fact that both vampires and zombies have been the basis of their own erotica subgenres.
Turn me on, dead man….
The first vampires I remember were in the Hammer films, with Christopher Lee turning an array of bouffant beauties into hissing vixens. I loved those films, as cheesy as some of them were. Bela Lugosi’s Dracula was excellent, but Christopher Lee added an even deeper sensual tone. In contrast, the first zombie film I remember seeing was Night of the Living Dead. George Romero forever altered the course of the zombie with that movie, pulling it from its African and Creole roots, transforming the buried alive into the walking dead.
From there, “undead” took on two meanings: vampire and zombie. Both are a plague upon humanity, that which consumes human lives in order to survive itself, but they also became symbols of human nature in its most basic, animalistic form. It’s not surprising that, on a similar note, vampires took on the sensual role they did; what is surprising is the fact that both vampires and zombies have been the basis of their own erotica subgenres.
Turn me on, dead man….
The similarities modern zombies have with vampires isn’t at all surprising, however, when you consider the source. Richard Matheson’s novel I Am Legend, in which a pandemic bacterial infection has reduced the world’s population to rabid, vampire-like creatures, was the inspiration behind Night of the Living Dead. Romero simply turned them into mindless corpses.
Considering all they have in common, it was only a matter of time before zombies found their way into my Jane the Hippie Vampire series. Of course, the subgenres would have crossed eventually anyway—Jane encounters some kind of supernatural force in nearly all of her stories—but Dazed and Confused, I think, offers a nice blend of Matheson and Romero, a fitting case study of the men behind the monsters.
Stop by tomorrow to read an excerpt from Jane the Hippie Vampire: Dazed and Confused. Want a chance at a free copy? Leave a comment, and I’ll throw your name in the hat.
About Dazed and Confused:
She’s broke and homeless. She’s a vegetarian. She’s undead.
Jane has had one hell of a time ever since she bumped into the wrong guy during the Summer of Love, but she’s taken it all in stride. Wandering from town to town, she seeks out the needy and the broken in hopes of breaking the curse that’s left her bloodthirsty and forever seventeen.
In this fifth novella in the dramatic horror series, Jane the Hippie Vampire, Jane stumbles upon a small, secluded town in the Nevada desert, where the simple life seems to have its residents in a rut. When patient zero of a biological weapons test stirs up some action, Jane finds herself amidst a whole different breed of undead—and in the middle of a war zone designed to leave no witnesses behind.
Considering all they have in common, it was only a matter of time before zombies found their way into my Jane the Hippie Vampire series. Of course, the subgenres would have crossed eventually anyway—Jane encounters some kind of supernatural force in nearly all of her stories—but Dazed and Confused, I think, offers a nice blend of Matheson and Romero, a fitting case study of the men behind the monsters.
Stop by tomorrow to read an excerpt from Jane the Hippie Vampire: Dazed and Confused. Want a chance at a free copy? Leave a comment, and I’ll throw your name in the hat.
About Dazed and Confused:
She’s broke and homeless. She’s a vegetarian. She’s undead.
Jane has had one hell of a time ever since she bumped into the wrong guy during the Summer of Love, but she’s taken it all in stride. Wandering from town to town, she seeks out the needy and the broken in hopes of breaking the curse that’s left her bloodthirsty and forever seventeen.
In this fifth novella in the dramatic horror series, Jane the Hippie Vampire, Jane stumbles upon a small, secluded town in the Nevada desert, where the simple life seems to have its residents in a rut. When patient zero of a biological weapons test stirs up some action, Jane finds herself amidst a whole different breed of undead—and in the middle of a war zone designed to leave no witnesses behind.
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