It's Women in Horror month on the Interwebs, and we at GC are here to say that we've traced the calls, and they're coming from INSIDE THE HOUSE!
Wait, sorry; got the cue cards mixed up.
Anyway. When our trusty leader UberWench asked for suggestions on notable women in horror, my reaction was "Shit, THAT's easy. Tananarive Due."
Florida native Due has written a couple of nonfiction works, but she's perhaps best known for a string of novels (My Soul To Keep / The Living Blood / Blood Colony) that are way more unsettling creepy than, on the surface, they should be. The stories concern Jessica and her growing unease about her ridiculously perfect husband, David--who is secretly a 500-year-old immortal, thanks to his Living Blood. There are about 50 immortals, we learn, based out of Ethiopia; all immortals have Living Blood, which can transform a mortal into an immortal if administered at the moment of death. With me so far? They're basically immortals, except they can sire more immortals like vampires do.
And what they have done--what Due has done--is make the whole vampire-romance thing scary again.
Part of that has to do with the way vampires have been (pardon me) defanged during their rise to pop-cultural stardom: I love Angel, Spike, and Being Human's Mitchell as much as anyone, but I think we lost sight of the terror of vampires, really, when we had them swear off blood.* The denaturing of vampires then proceeded unchecked, until the nadir was reached with the execrable Twilight series, where vampire boyfriends are like regular boyfriends except sparklier.


Whereas the real attraction of vampires is that they are dangerous. They pose a continuous threat--urge to kill barely held in check by nobler morals--and while there's no doubt about Edward's saintly restraint (despite his incessant claims to the contrary), there's plenty of doubt where these immortals are concerned. Amorality and selfishness are the products of unnaturally long life, Due argues: everything else sort of gets worn away. So when we see David calmly kill to protect his secret, calmly prepare to turn his wife and child, it all seems so natural that we can't help but see where he's coming from. 500 years of watching everyone he loves die; why shouldn't he turn his beloved into an immortal to keep him company? The alternative is to go completely batshit insane, a fate that's befallen a fellow immortal who's spent too long hanging out with mortals; and which, as Due observes, is a particularly awful fate if you can't die.
It's David's essential decency, warped as it is by his centuries of undeath, that really establishes his power as a villain. He really does adore his wife and daughter. He privately bemoans how sorry he is to have to kill people, but he still resorts to it rather too often for the reader to believe him. The signs of his lurking creepitude are all there in hindsight--Jessica's family and friends, we see, consistently find him self-absorbed and controlling--but Jessica's willingness to believe otherwise blinds her to them. And it's Jessica's participation in her own rescue and redemption that establish her as a heroine.
Due also has a few standalones out: Joplin's Ghost is a neat sort of ghost story / psychic thing, easier to read than to describe. I haven't read The Good House, which looks like a solid entry into that quintessential Seventies horror subgenre, the evil house story.
There's apparently a movie of My Soul To Keep that's stuck in development hell. The male lead's been cast (Blair Underwood, on account of him being the story's champion and driving force behind the movie effort), which spoils my dreams of Chiwetel Ejiofor (the Operative from Serenity) or maybe Paterson Joseph; but, y'know, it's all good. For Jessica I'd like either Zoe Saldana or Gina Torres. That is all.
* To some extent this is a storytelling thing. Vampiric struggles to stay clean provide lots of noble angst (Being Human is especially fond of this trope)--but also, it's hard to write stories about a group of heroes when one of them logically should be doing nothing but attacking the others. One of the Eighties Doctor Who writers made this observation about the character of Turlough, a companion whose motivation for joining the TARDIS was to kill the Doctor: so far, an interesting and unique character. Trouble was, storywise you either had to have him be separated from the Doctor or else babysat by another companion, because otherwise he should, logically, attack the Doctor. The writers wisely wrapped up that arc within three serials, but then Turlough lost much of what made him interesting. I don't think it's an accident that Spike was defanged at precisely the same time he became one of the principals on Buffy the Vampire Slayer.