Say what you will about Stephanie Meyer—she was perhaps the first author to realize that the problem with Mr. Darcy was that he wasn’t a vampire. (Or a centenarian impregnating a teenager, but two birds with one stone, as they say.) That’s the kind of thinking that can bust a book market wide open.
But why don’t we fix this problem more explicitly? thought Amanda Grange. As a result we finally have Mr. Darcy, Vampyre.
Because why the hell not? In the world of romance or teen fiction anymore, you can’t swing a dead cat without hitting a horny vampire. It’s simply beyond me why someone hadn’t written this novel earlier; not only are you combining two of the most romantically appealing themes in all of literature in one man, but you don’t exactly have to shoehorn vampirism into Darcy.
In the new novel, Darcy’s famous aloofness and dark, unpleasant mien, among other things, serve to explain that he was hiding a supernatural secret the whole time. This is meant to compel readers to return to Austen’s original novel and think, No way! He’s so a vampire! (but other Austen fans, like my girlfriend, would insist that this sort of thing compels the beloved author to do a rotisserie in her grave.)
And yep, you can count on authors coupling their cars to the Darcy-Vampire gravy train. Regina Jeffers will be a bit late out of the gate with Vampire Darcy’s Desire, which arrives December. Who knows how many other versions are to come in the meantime? Maybe some different offerings to the line of P&P horror hybrids… like Wolfman Darcy?
Darcy From Outer Space?
Mr. Darcy, Fishman?
(C’mon, gotta be some ladies out there secretly jonesing for Fishman)
But somebody, anybody, please tell me something: how did the zombies happen before the vampires?