Frankenstein Is Great, But Have You Read Dracula?

I'm not trying to be contrarian, but with all the fanfare surrounding Netflix's recent adaptation of Frankenstein, I can't help but think of the book's far more readable cousin, Dracula.

In the A-list annals of Halloween costumes, the two are often paired together, but the reading experience of each is vastly different.

Frankenstein is slow and cerebral. You zone out, and 20 pages later, the protagonist is still describing the landscape. Dracula, on the other hand, is a page-turner of the first order. When I first read it many years ago, I distinctly recall spending several hours on the floor so I could keep reading while my Kindle charged. I'd recently moved and evidently could only find a short cable. I didn't care. I needed to know what happened next, and if it meant lying on the carpet in an unfurnished apartment to find out, so be it. Unpacking could wait.

One thing you might not expect about either book is how deep they are, despite the innumerable adaptations and spin-offs. Dracula, for instance, has an incredible undercurrent of faith and Christianity throughout the entire narrative. It's not only a fun read, but a deep one, too.

This depth is why I love the classics so much. There is nothing wrong with modern books, but many seem so flat and forgettable in comparison.

I did some tutoring over the summer, and one of my students chose Dracula and Station 11 by Emily St. John Mandel from his school's list of approved books. Reading them back-to-back was wild.

In Station 11, society collapses because of some virus, and long after the threat has passed, everyone still lives like scavengers. Some survive as traveling performers; others live in the hollowed-out remnants of airports or other vestiges of civilization. The only reference to God is one guy who thinks he's the messiah and tries to "marry" a bunch of young girls. It's a bleak book that leaves you thinking humans are little better than animals. Without faith and morality, that's probably true.

Dracula couldn't be more different. Everything is so inextricably entwined with the importance of one's moral character that the book couldn't move forward without it. Faith is everywhere, and the characters are so much more impressive because of it.

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I actually remember asking the student, "Let's pretend the characters from Dracula were in the plot of Station 11. Do you think they'd still be living like this years later? Would they have even let it get this bad? Or would they have rebuilt and taken care of each other?"

The answer was obvious. The characters in Dracula would have rebuilt civilization immediately, if they ever let it collapse at all. I always think of one character in particular, Mr. Quincey Morris of Texas, who exhibits a strong strain of bravery and selflessness in the face of supernatural danger. The book was published in the late 1800's, and another character observes: "If America can go on breeding men like that, she will be a power in the world indeed."

I know I'm straying a bit from Frankenstein, but that cause-and-effect stuck with me. Of course the people make the nation, but what makes the people? I think a nation's favorite books are one factor, and it's no coincidence that America did become "a power in the world indeed" in the years when everyone knew who Mr. Quincey Morris was.

The corollary isn't ideal. What are the bestsellers these days? If our books make us, what kind of civilization are we building? There is nothing intrinsically wrong with modern books--I write them myself--but they're puddles when compared to the oceans of depth that exist within the classics.

And like I said: splashing in puddles can be fun, especially when you're young, but the experience is nothing compared to swimming in the ocean. If we want to be a deep, rich civilization, we can't only be reading shallow books, which is why I'm diving into the classics even more in 2026.

Join me for a swim?