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Dracula

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Written by Bram StokerAuthor Alerts:  Random House will alert you to new works by Bram Stoker
Adapted by Stephanie SpinnerAuthor Alerts:  Random House will alert you to new works by Stephanie Spinner

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List Price: $3.99

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On Sale: December 01, 2010
Pages: 96 | ISBN: 978-0-307-77159-9
Published by : Random House Books for Young Readers RH Childrens Books
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ABOUT THE BOOK ABOUT THE BOOK
ABOUT THE AUTHOR ABOUT THE AUTHOR
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Synopsis|Excerpt

Synopsis

String garlic by the window and hang a cross around your neck! The most powerful vampire of all time returns in our Stepping Stone Classic adaption of the original tale by Bran Stoker. Follow Johnathan Harker, Mina Harker, and Dr. Abraham van Helsing as they discover the true nature of evil. Their battle to destroy Count Dracula takes them from the crags of his castle to the streets of London... and back again.

Excerpt

Chapter I
Jonathan Harker’s Journal
(Kept in shorthand.)

3 May. Bistritz.1–Left Munich at 8:35 p. m., on 1st May, arriving at Vienna early next morning; should have arrived at 6:46, but train was an hour late. Buda-Pesth seems a wonderful place, from the glimpse which I got of it from the train and the little I could walk through the streets. I feared to go very far from the station, as we arrived late and would start as near the correct time as possible. The impression I had was that we were leaving the West and entering the East; the most western of splendid bridges over the Danube,2 which is here of noble width and depth, took us among the traditions of Turkish rule.
We left in pretty good time, and came after nightfall to Klausenburgh.3 Here I stopped for the night at the Hotel Royale. I had for dinner, or rather supper, a chicken done up some way with red pepper, which was very good but thirsty. (Mem., get recipe for Mina.) I asked the waiter, and he said it was called “paprika hendl,” and that, as it was a national dish, I should be able to get it anywhere along the Carpathians.4 I found my smattering of German very useful here; indeed, I don’t know how I should be able to get on without it.

Having had some time at my disposal when in London, I had visited the British Museum,5 and made search among the books and maps in the library regarding Transylvania: it had struck me that some foreknowledge of the country could hardly fail to have some importance in dealing with a nobleman of that country. I find that the district he named is in the extreme east of the country, just on the borders of three states, Transylvania, Moldavia and Bukovina,6 in the midst of the Carpathian mountains; one of the wildest and least known portions of Europe. I was not able to light on any map or work giving the exact locality of the Castle Dracula, as there are no maps of this country as yet to compare with our own Ordnance Survey maps;7 but I found that Bistritz, the post town named by Count Dracula, is a fairly well-known place. I shall enter here some of my notes, as they may refresh my memory when I talk over my travels with Mina.

In the population of Transylvania there are four distinct nationalities: Saxons in the South, and mixed with them the Wallachs, who are the descendants of the Dacians; Magyars in the West, and Szekelys8 in the East and North. I am going among the latter, who claim to be descended from Attila and the Huns. This may be so, for when the Magyars conquered the country in the eleventh century they found the Huns settled in it. I read that every known superstition in the world is gathered into the horseshoe of the Carpathians, as if it were the centre of some sort of imaginative whirlpool; if so my stay may be very interesting. (Mem., I must ask the Count all about them.)

I did not sleep well, though my bed was comfortable enough, for I had all sorts of queer dreams. There was a dog howling all night under my window, which may have had something to do with it; or it may have been the paprika, for I had to drink up all the water in my carafe, and was still thirsty. Towards morning I slept and was wakened by the continuous knocking at my door, so I guess I must have been sleeping soundly then. I had for breakfast more paprika, and a sort of porridge of maize flour which they said was “mamaliga,” and egg-plant stuffed with forcemeat, a very excellent dish, which they call “impletata.” (Mem., get recipe for this also.) I had to hurry breakfast, for the train started a little before eight, or rather it ought to have done so, for after rushing to the station at 7:30 I had to sit in the carriage for more than an hour before we began to move. It seems to me that the further east you go the more unpunctual are the trains. What ought they to be in China?

All day long we seemed to dawdle through a country which was full of beauty of every kind. Sometimes we saw little towns or castles on the top of steep hills such as we see in old missals; sometimes we ran by rivers and streams which seemed from the wide stony margin on each side of them to be subject to great floods. It takes a lot of water, and running strong, to sweep the outside edge of a river clear. At every station there were groups of people, sometimes crowds, and in all sorts of attire. Some of them were just like the peasants at home or those I saw coming through France and Germany, with short jackets and round hats and home-made trousers; but others were very picturesque. The women looked pretty, except when you got near them, but they were very clumsy about the waist. They had all full white sleeves of some kind or other, and the most of them had big belts with a lot of strips of something fluttering from them like the dresses in a ballet, but of course there were petticoats under them. The strangest figures we saw were the Slovaks, who were more barbarian than the rest, with their big cow-boy hats, great baggy dirty-white trousers, white linen shirts, and enormous heavy leather belts, nearly a foot wide, all studded over with brass nails. They wore high boots, with their trousers tucked into them, and had long black hair and heavy black moustaches. They are very picturesque, but do not look prepossessing. On the stage they would be set down at once as some old Oriental band of brigands. They are, however, I am told, very harmless and rather wanting in natural self-assertion.

It was on the dark side of twilight when we got to Bistritz, which is a very interesting old place. Being practically on the frontier–for the Borgo Pass leads from it into Bukovina–it has had a very stormy existence, and it certainly shows marks of it. Fifty years ago a series of great fires took place, which made terrible havoc on five separate occasions. At the very beginning of the seventeenth century it underwent a siege of three weeks and lost 13,000 people, the casualties of war proper being assisted by famine and disease.
Count Dracula had directed me to go to the Golden Krone Hotel, which I found, to my great delight, to be thoroughly old-fashioned, for of course I wanted to see all I could of the ways of the country. I was evidently expected, for when I got near the door I faced a cheery-looking elderly woman in the usual peasant dress–white undergarment with long double apron, front, and back, of coloured stuff fitting almost too tight for modesty. When I came close she bowed and said, “The Herr Englishman?” “Yes,” I said, “Jonathan Harker.” She smiled, and gave some message to an elderly man in white shirtsleeves, who had followed her to the door. He went, but immediately returned with a letter:–
“My Friend.–Welcome to the Carpathians. I am anxiously expecting you. Sleep well to-night. At three tomorrow the diligence9 will start for Bukovina; a place on it is kept for you. At the Borgo Pass my carriage will await you and will bring you to me. I trust that your journey from London has been a happy one, and that you will enjoy your stay in my beautiful land.

“Your friend,
“Dracula.”
Bram Stoker|Stephanie Spinner

About Bram Stoker

Bram Stoker - Dracula

ABRAHAM “BRAM” STOKER (1847–1912) was born in Ireland. He began his career as a theater critic before becoming manager of London’s Lyceum Theatre. Dracula was Stoker’s fourth novel; he went on to write many more, including The Lady of the Shroud and The Lair of the White Worm.

About Stephanie Spinner

Stephanie Spinner - Dracula
A little about my life
I was born in Davenport, Iowa, and grew up in Rockaway Beach, New York. I read straight through my childhood, with breaks for food, sleep, and the bathroom. I went to college in Bennington, Vermont, moved to New York City, and took a job in publishing so I could get paid for reading. I read so much bad fiction that I needed a break, so I moved to London, and from there I traveled to Morocco, Iran, Afghanistan, Pakistan India, Nepal, and Ceylon. I came back to America, wandered around some more–to Mexico, Guatemala, and Belize–and on returning to New York decided to study Tibetan Buddhist painting (called thangka painting) in Boulder, Colorado.
I painted thangkas for many years. Each one took anywhere from several weeks to a few months to complete, and at long last I understood that this was not the ideal way for me to make a living. Only a few hundred Americans collected thangkas, and they wanted old ones, painted by Tibetan monks. It was time to make a change.
So I took another publishing job, this time in children’s books. I found that I liked children’s books a lot, and before long, I became an editor.
Years passed. I was encouraged to write. I scoffed at the idea that I had anything to write about. I edited some wonderfully talented authors–Virginia Hamilton, Philip Isaacson, Clyde Robert Bulla, Gloria Whelan, Robin McKinley, Joan Vinge, Garth Nix, and Chris Lynch, among others–with great enjoyment. Writing seemed like torture by comparison.
Then, to my amazement, I found myself writing a book and having a good time–simultaneously! The book was ALIENS FOR BREAKFAST, and I enjoyed writing it because my co-author was Jonathan Etra. Jon (who died of heart disease in 1990), was a close friend with a wild sense of humor, and collaborating with him changed my opinion of writing forever. After ALIENS FOR BREAKFAST, and ALIENS FOR LUNCH, which we also co-wrote, I began to think that writing could be interesting fun.
And now that I’ve been doing it full-time for seven years, I can tell you why I like it better than a job. First, I can work in my bathrobe. (To the FedEx man and the UPS man, I am “the woman in the plaid flannel robe.”) Second, I can eat when I’m hungry, choose when to take phone calls, and walk my dog at 12 and 6. Third, the only meetings I have–and they’re short--are with the dry cleaner and Mike the postal worker. Fourth, I can read whatever I please. I may tell people I’m doing research when I read about horse-trekking, or hunting in ancient Greece, or 16 ways to better compost, but the truth is, I’m not doing research, I’m having a good time. Which I think is still allowed.
Career Advice: If the life of a born-again bookworm sounds appealing to you, consider becoming a writer.

Frequently asked questions
1.How do you get the ideas for your books?
The start of something can pop into my head at any time. I’ve often had good ideas on waking, yet another reason to get a good night’s sleep.
2. How do you work when you collaborate with someone?
Depends who it is. When I worked with my friend Jon Etra, I had a full-time job and he didn’t, so he agreed to supply a first draft, chapter by chapter. I rewrote his material, and did all the revisions. We outlined our books together in great detail. And we followed the outlines at least half the time.
When I worked with my friend Terry Bisson, we were both writing full-time, so we took turns generating chapters, and then revising them. We also outlined our books together carefully, and then forgot the outlines once in a while.
Career advice: If you plan to collaborate with another writer, pick one with a really good sense of humor.
3. How did being an editor affect your writing?
I had high standards. I was conscious of the marketplace because I was in the business. I was careful about deadlines. And, knowing their importance, I was horribly demanding about copyediting, artwork, cover copy, and marketing copy. In short, I was the writer from hell, and I still am.
4. When did you know you wanted to be a writer?
There was no single moment of blinding light. It came on gradually, like a disease.
5. Describe your work habits.
I write in the morning for a few hours, break for the afternoon, and get back to work after tea/dog feeding. When I’m working very hard, I’ll write in the evenings, too. At such times I use the morning to revise what I’ve written the night before.
6. Who are your favorite writers?
The list is long, and changes all the time. Charles Dickens, Isaac Babel, Jorge Luis Borges, Robert Stone, Isaac Singer, Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, Angela Carter, Beryl Bainbridge, Clyde Robert Bulla, William Gibson, John Cheever, Paula Fox, Homer, Ovid, Mary Renault, Philip Larkin, Bill Bryson, Cecilia Holland, Don DeLillo, Sir Thomas Malory, and on and on.
7. Do you have any advice for aspiring writers?
Bernard Malamud once said, “Writers kiss with one eye open.” In other words, there’s an watcher in the writer that almost never takes time off. I’d say, foster your curiosity, be observant, take notes, read a lot, and pay attention to the way good writers write–you can learn from them.
Praise

Praise

"Those who cannot find their own reflection in Bram Stoker's still-living creation are surely the undead."

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