In A Vampyre Blues: The Passion of Varnado, Chris Hayden n local poet, novelist, teacher, cinematic scholar, humorist, science fiction buff and soul scientist n has created a monster.
It operates on so many levels that one initially feels the need to rent a mind shovel to dig through the layers of this entertaining piece of what is sometimes called speculative fiction. But it’s so much more than that.
It’s a vampire tale told at warp speed; this instantly moves it from popular fiction to hip-hop myth. It’s an historical drama based on a mind-bending and multidimensional warping of time and space. It’s a political commentary that reams every convention of class, race and gender.
It’s also one of the funniest and most laugh-out-loud pieces I’ve ever read.
Varnado Williams is a vampire. He is arrogant, successful, brilliant and charming. He is being mentored by Lord Baltimore, or “lord moe,” the ultimate vampire. Think of Machiavelli with Poe’s imagination, Nostradomus’ ability to see into the future, Stalin’s penchant for sacrificing human beings and Dracula’s warped fashion sense and refusal to submit to death.
Now, think of how Quentin Tarantino makes films, like a hip-hop track: a snatch here, a sample there, then a resonating chord backed by some thunderous beats. Think of Samuel L. Jackson’s gangster, sociopathic playboy in Jackie Brown. Add an awesome knowledge of the history of world cinema, from Russian director Sergei Eisenstein to Tyler Perry, and you have the essence of Varnado Williams.
Hayden creates a wonderful and almost delirious tension between Varnado and “lord moe.” Varnado is black and “lord moe” is white. Varnado is young (for a vampire) and “lord moe” is a least 500 years old. Varnado is 21st-century hip while “lord moe” is Victorian on a good day. Varnado is liberal and socially aware while “lord moe” owned slaves during that period of American history. Still, their bond is impenetrable.
Hayden’s characters are rich and complex. They make us want to know so much more about them that you might find yourself skipping pages and even chapters to rush to resolutions.
Hayden’s plotting of the novel is wonderfully convoluted and falls into the mouth of the mind like soul food. The dialogue sometimes seems a little flippant, but this book is at heart a big comedy filled with inside jokes for anybody who aspires to either read or write in the new century.
Hayden uses Varnado’s love of movies to emphasize the powerful effect technology has on shaping our collective lives. “My theory is that the language, technical terms and the dialogue in movies has become our language,” Varnado tells a group of friends at a film.
A voice whispers in reply, “But do you love them? Do you really love them?” Thus is the battle of Varnado versus “lord moe,” memory versus liberation, science versus art and love versus death continually played out in The Vampyre Blues.
The book is subtitled “The Passion of Varnado.” It’s an interesting phrase to use here. It refers to Varnado’s intense pursuit of Sheba, his love interest and metaphorically the earth mother figure of the novel. She is his channel back through love n in Star Trek terms, his worm-hole n and toward redemption. But, in a larger sense, passion itself is the monster-human’s advantage in his duel with normal human beings.
But, is passion synonymous with love? This is Varnado’s dilemna. In the end, this is the story of a human being masquerading as a monster, and proud of it, whose pathologies are overwhelmed by the power of love.
K. Curtis Lyle, a nationally renowned poet and performer, is culture critic for the American.