During my senior year of high school, my English
teacher told us that we would be reading Dracula.
I rolled my eyes at the thought of reading yet another required book. Why? I had only truly enjoyed one book that any of
my high school English teachers assigned and that was The Count of Monte Cristo. And, being the stubborn young woman that
I am, I was decided that this was to be yet another one of those boring books they
called classics.
I
knew I wasn’t going to like this book. I could feel it deep in my gut. In fact,
I had seen the old movie adaptations of Dracula
and I knew I wasn’t interested. The whole vampire thing just didn’t get me. I
didn’t care how eloquent, attractive, or powerful vampires are; they are still
dead. I was also a little afraid to read the book. Vampires—and Dracula in
particular—are so sexual and I wasn’t comfortable reading those sorts of
novels. But, I had faith in my teacher so I began to read.
