“I remember well the old cinema and the sandwich boards outside with garish colors inviting “only the brave” inside to see Dracula in dripping color. “NO ONE UNDER THE AGE OF SIXTEEN.” I was twelve and looked younger, but with my coat collar turned up, an unlit cigarette dangling between my lips, and a sympathetic attendant taking my change, in I crept. My stature in school was slightly elevated when I was able to recount the storyline and describe the captive women in the cold castle, unable to afford thick sweaters or coats to cover themselves adequately.
After watching the movie, I knew I would eventually write a vampire book. My hero would be different, though, with no bloodletting or midnight grave desecration, no fear of holy water, or a crucifix. So, after some vampire lore and history study, my first novel, “DARK HENRY SMITH,” Was born.
Henry Smith is a real vampire with no aristocratic pretensions. He was raised by nomadic Jews, a six hundred-year-old wanderer and champion of the underdog. Sympathetic to human frailty, he is easily angered and frustrated by his attempts to assimilate into modern society.
And so, his story continues with all his faults and prejudices displayed unapologetically.