Very rarely comes a book that makes me not want to finish it. Not because it's horrible or anything like that, but because I want to stay with the characters, the stories, the prose. The closer I got to the end, the harder it became to really let them go, even as I strove for answers and desired them to reach their climax, I didn't want to.
This is a book that takes a story we know, have devoured for years, from and with with an author that is celebrated today, and gives us a new way to look at it. This book takes a look at how maybe, possibly, perhaps, Stoker was inspired for his beautiful book Dracula, by the events that he was told and read through in this book. I know nothing about Stoker as a person, though I have devoured his book many times, but the way he is presented here is loving and empathetic. Becky Wright does a spectacular job of leaving crumbs along the way for us to remember that yes this is where that idea came from, or this idea.
But that's all it is, crumbs.
For anyone that has not read Dracula, the story will not be spoiled. There is a mystery, ghosts, a mansion, murders, there is so much in here and it is all so wonderfully unfolded in perhaps my favorite style of prose. The prose is what has captured me. If I could fall in love with a style, it would be in the way that Becky Wright writes. Her prose is perfect, dancing along the story with the necessary calm pace or the exhilarating adrenaline that sometimes takes the characters. It kept me engaged throughout, even found myself unknowingly reading aloud and acting out the voices, I had become so involved in the story. And yes, towards the end my eyes were wet, and I had been on such a ride.
Note that none of this is exaggeration, this book is quite legitimately my Favorite Book of the Year. It has given me a tale I didn't know I needed, and wrecked me with such emotions that I fell in love with these characters. It's a beautiful beautiful tragedy that must be read.