Steinmeyer only manages to make a convincing case for
Irving, who after Vlad, is most often cited as the inspiration for Dracula. The
writer’s other arguments are pretty thin, especially when making straw-grasping
notes about how, like Dracula, Whitman had a moustache (let’s not fixate on his
great, big beard) or how the alleged Ripper, Francis Tumblety, may have
attended a social club at which Stoker regularly held court. There’s a lot of “may
have” in Who Was Dracula?
So Steinmeyer isn’t wholly successful in accomplishing his central goal, and Criticism 101 teaches us that this should be the main
deciding factor in whether a work is good or bad. The thing is, Who Was Dracula? is pretty impossible to
call bad. In fact, it’s pretty fantastic. Steinmeyer’s recreations of
historical scenes are beautifully written and utterly transporting. Whether or
not Walt Whitman or Oscar Wilde really had significant influences on Count
Dracula, they are fascinating artists, and Stoker did, indeed, know them, apparently harboring a sexual attraction to the former and hypocritically shunning the latter amidst Wilde’s “indecency” trial.
Steinmeyer recounts these relationships with the same vividness he brings to
all aspects of his book, including his riveting study of the Ripper murders. As
a portrait of a few years in the life of Bram Stoker, and a few years in
London’s rich theater and art scene, Who
Was Dracula? is grand. So what if the title question is never
satisfactorily answered?
