Alarming Female

Christopher Moore, or rather his novels, are one of my guilty pleasures. I discovered him while on a solitary holiday on the Oregon coast in 2001, suggested to me by a bookseller at my second favorite bookstore, Canyon Way Restaurant and Bookstore. The small format mass market volume she slipped into my hand was a copy of Practical Demonkeeping, Moore’s first novel.

Picture this: I’m alone in a small coastal town for a few days in late September, talking to no one other than shopkeepers and waiters, enjoying the weather that alternates between windy sun and fog as thick as pea soup (this is my idea of heaven, if not yours). I arrive in Newport on a weekday afternoon, stop into my second favorite bookstore, and pick up a new book. Later that evening, I head north on HWY 101 to Depoe Bay, an even smaller town, to enjoy a quiet dinner at the Sea Hag with me, myself, and my new book.

Practical Demonkeeping is set in a sleepy northern California seaside town, scenically and physically much like the the area I’m visiting. The book begins with two characters on their way to a bar, not unlike the bar adjoining the restaurant in which I’m eating, and from which I can hear the piano and performer of the evening. Later, the two characters venture back down what I envision as the dark, tree-lined HWY 101, where they are promptly dispatched by the aforementioned demon.

Sometime that weekend I snap a self-portrait, as is my custom. Since I carry with me the requisite female shame over my physical appearance, I deliberately backlight the photo to semi-obscure my image.

After I returned home, I read all of Moore’s other books (at that time): Coyote Blue, Bloodsucking Fiends, Island of the Sequined Love Nun, and The Lust Lizard of Melancholy Cove. I enjoy his clever dialogue, humor, and descriptions of characters definitely not normal but very human (as well as not human; each book deals with a different supernatural being, from demons to tricksters to vampires to sea monsters. And more).

And the sex–I like how he acknowledges the reality of the human sex drive, with honesty, humor, and a fondness for human foibles.

After I read all his published books, I had to wait for the next one, Lamb: The Gospel According to Biff, Christ’s Childhood Pal. It came out in 2002 during Lent, and as I was a practicing Christian back then, it was particularly interesting to read. Mary Magdalene is a main character in the book, and Moore portrays her as an intelligent, loyal friend; not a prostitute as she is often cast. He even discusses this choice in the Afterword.

I found this refreshing, and emailed Moore to tell him so. Surprisingly, to me, he emailed me back almost immediately, thanking me for the feedback and expressing how pleased he was that his book resonated with at least one “believer.”

Since then, Moore has written four additional books, including Fluke: Or, I Know Why the Winged Whale Sings, The Stupidist Angel: A Heartwarming Tale of Christmas Terror, A Dirty Job, and his most recent, You Suck: A Love Story.

A sequel to 1995’s Bloodsucking Fiends, You Suck offers the most recent hint that Moore may be another found specimen of that all-too-rare species: the feminist man.

You may think that a book that begins with the words, “You bitch, you killed me! You suck!” might not be written by a feminist, but I’d ask you to take another look. The words are uttered by Tommy, a young man who has just realized that his girlfriend, Jody, who is a vampire, has turned him into a vampire against his will. He’s pissed. Can’t really blame him.

Moore’s portrayal of Jody is what’s interesting to me. Here’s where his understanding of the female condition argues for his status as feminist. In an early chapter, we get an inkling of how Jody’s life as a vampire differs from her life as a woman:

Jody moved down Columbus Avenue with long, runway-model strides, feeling the windblown fog brush by her like the chill ghosts of rejected suitors. What she could never teach Tommy, what she could never really share with him, was what it felt like to move from being a victim—afraid of attack, the shadow around the corner, the footsteps behind—to being the hunter. It wasn’t the stalking or the rush of taking down prey—Tommy would understand that. It was walking down a dark street, late at night, knowing that you were the most powerful creature there, that there was absolutely nothing, no one, that could fuck with you. Until she had been changed and had stalked the city as a vampire, she never realized that virtually every moment she had been there as a woman, she had been a little bit afraid. A man would never understand. (page 82)

Later on in the story, the characters are contemplating a “cure” for their vampiric condition. Jody wants no part of any cure, and explains why:

I love it, Tommy. I’m not afraid all the time like you; just the opposite. I didn’t realize how afraid I used to be until I became like this. I like walking the street knowing that I’m the Alpha animal, hearing and seeing and smelling everything, being part of everything. I like it. (page 315)

I found these two passages very moving. I also found myself surprised that Moore captured the emotion so well, in a way that really resonated with me. I mean, I’m with Jody—”A man would never understand.” I wrote to him and told him, and asked him what had influenced his thinking in this regard, and how he’d come to understand this visceral reality that seems to me uniquely female. Again, he answered me almost immediately (I’m thinking this guy is always online).

As for the Jody scene, not to sound smug, but it’s just sort of my job to think about those things. And so I thought about a woman walking in the city, and how that would change once she owned the night. But appreciate that the scene resonated with you.

Thanks for the nice note.

Happy reading.

Christopher Moore

Okay, so he loses points for sounding smug. I didn’t claim he wasn’t arrogant. But I still have to give him credit. You Suck has some great female characters, including the delightful Abby Normal, and all the female characters he creates are individuals, not stereotypes. His clear respect and affection for women, and his demonstrated opinion as to their deserved equal status with men, is evident.

I’d call that a feminist.