By Balambal Suryanarayanan
After being shaken up pretty badly by an amazingly penned, super-realistic yet insane psychological thriller, “Appetite for Innocence” (Lucinda Berry fans, you heard me right!), I struggled to pick a new book that I could dedicate my attention to. And then this beauty by Samara Breger happened, finding me “accidentally” in the main campus of Carnegie Library of Pittsburgh (I was actually seeking out a mind-bending psychological thriller, again!). Now here I am, presenting my take on the book that stole my soul, transforming me into a silly fictoromantic all over again.
The book starts slowly, and the sentences might seem flowery to many readers, but I brushed it off, attributing it to the lead character Poppy Cavendish’s childlike nature. But then, as you navigate through the lines and her transcendence from a human to a vampire, you get hooked on the story, embracing a pristine love and splendiferous friends that’d kill for you just to have you by their side.
I found the lines elegantly penned, and when you read through Breger’s words, you feel your heart spilling them, painted with various emotions, and imageries, vivid and arresting, as you descry the romance between a younger vampire, Poppy, and her older counterpart, Roisin, bloom to life. I’m not sure if others might find verses like “‘Are you here to practice your French?’ ‘No, I’m here for you,’” or “Poppy was always one for riotous colors, and it still befuddled her how a pair of eyes completely devoid of color captivate her so completely,” or “I fancy a centaur. I’d convert for her,” or “Because you reminded me what it is like to be cared for” a bit cliched. But that made the progression of the love between them both a lot more realistic for me, transforming a woman like Roisin who had forgotten what it was like to be loved and cared for because of the torture her previous partner, Cane, put her through, because of the deaths she had to witness, to properly spell what her heart spelt by entwining her paths with a positively bubbly spirit like Poppy.
The growth of the characters was incredible, walking readers through how each character in the story changed through the experiences they witnessed. Poppy’s growth from a person who saw all sunshine and lillies, even in the most barren land, to understanding the gravity of the situation and thinking before acting, for once, deserves mention. The friendships? They make you sit down, cry in a corner, and yearn for ones who have seen you at your highest, know your lowest, understand your most embarrassing turn of events, are familiar with your clouded judgments, and yet do not take a moment to judge you for what you did: correcting your flaws, and yet embracing you. This could absolutely summarize what I loved the most about Carmen, Valentin, Sarah, and the rest of The Brood’s camaraderie with Poppy, a true testament to what they are: the best family that Poppy could ever ask for.
Remember how we always let our minds run wild reflecting about “The One?” Well, the novel beautifully walks you through how Roisin’s life changed as she crossed paths with Poppy — literally and metaphorically growing flowers on the barren land that Cane left her as, learning how to laugh properly and not on command and letting her tears flow at her will, and transforming to grow a heart all over again, was poetic to me. This whispered what it felt like to actually find the fragment of one’s heart that you lost, slithering back to where it truly belonged, beating hard with excitement and fondness in someone’s presence. The part leading to the confrontation between Cane and Roisin could have been constructed better. For here you have the woman who destroyed you, pushed you into a shell, kept you from loving someone, took advantage of your weakness about pleasing people, and gaslit you through her psychopathic murder spree of young girls. (A spoiler! Wait, let me take that back. Cane’s a certified sociopath!) All that just to get you running back to her, and all you can muster is some lame (read lazy) lines of heroics? The ending had my heart melting, so I’m gonna leave my complaints at that.
Overall, the novel was a beautiful take on the complicated emotions of falling in love, of two vampires, and the friendships that shaped them to be better. I’d recommend this to anyone who’d like to have a dose of feel-good romance, or wants to witness what it feels like to fall in love, not just the one for your partner (Eros), but the other kinds too. Love for oneself (Philautia) — the most powerful kind that’d helps you understand your flaws better, assess yourself, and grow into a better version of yourself — love of parents for children (Storge), love and respect for a friend (Philia), love of hospitality and respecting a guest (Xenia), and sacrificial love (Agape) wherein someone who loves you enough and understands your desires doesn’t hesitate to make a sacrifice without expecting anything in return.
My dear bibliophiles, if you have any recommendations similar to this hauntingly beautiful, queer vampire romance, feel free to knock on my door and drop them by!
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