Thirst by Argentinian author Marina Yuszczuk was first published in 2020 as La Sed and will shortly be issued in an English translation by Heather Cleary. In essence, Thirst is a sapphic vampire novel in which a female immortal from the “Old World” falls in love with a young single mother in present-day Buenos Aires. The book is in two parts. In the first segment, the narrator is the monster herself. It is an account of her transformation from innocent girl to a vampire, at the hands of a sadistic master, followed by her escape from Europe to South America after her “sisters” of the same kind are hunted and killed at the behest of the Church. Her arrival in the young city of Buenos Aires coincides with the onset of the “Yellow Death”, presenting her with the opportunity to hunt her prey without being discovered. Eventually tired by her life of desire and lust for blood, she convinces a cemetery keeper to lock her in a coffin in a crypt, never to see the light of day.

This first part of the book reads like a pastiche of classic Gothic novels, with echoes of the prototype of sapphic vampire stories – Le Fanu’s “Carmilla” – and other authors from Mary Shelley to Bram Stoker. Except that in Thirst, the sexual tension which is typical of classic vampire tales is rendered in scenes which leave nothing to the imagination and would likely give Le Fanu palpitations. There’s also an explicit and blasphemous scene in a church which doesn’t really fit in the rest of the novel (in which religion doesn’t otherwise play any major part) and which, I felt, was included primarily to give this novel “transgressive” credentials.

In the second segment we get a change of narrator, a single mother who is passing through a particularly challenging time. Her marriage has broken down and her mother is succumbing to a degenerative disease which is locking her into her own increasingly rigid body. In an unlikely twist, the narrator is given the key to the vampire’s crypt and inadvertently frees the bloodthirsty creature from her century-long self-imposed exile, setting off a hair-raising chain of events.

Thirst disappointed me because it contained some great concepts which, in my view, were not developed to the full. The description of disease-ridden Buenos Aires in the first part, for instance, was highly atmospheric and gripping, and there were some captivating, almost-dreamlike sequences. In contrast, the second part fell flat, with some passages coming across as banal or unintentionally comic (for instance, the vampire getting to grips with traffic lights or with the workings of a cigarette lighter). There was also much potential in the metaphorical parallels between the disease of the present-day narrator’s mother and the “paralysis” and death which the vampire induces in its victims, but the novel stops short of effectively linking the two. I also felt that the narrative was rather lop-sided, with the vampire being re-introduced at a late stage, and the novel concluding soon afterwards without any real room for development of the characters and their motivations.

Will I look out for other works of Yuszczuk? Definitely, because there’s so much promise in this contemporary take on classic vampire fiction. But, Thirst has left me unsatisfied.

2.5*

https://endsoftheword.blogspot.com/2024/08/thirst-by-marina-yuszczuk.html

Marina Yuszczuk’s *Thirst* offers a fresh take on the vampire mythos, set against the rich historical backdrop of Buenos Aires. Far from being a simple supernatural thriller, this novel intertwines the gothic with the deeply personal, exploring themes of grief, desire, and the inexorable passage of time. The narrative is a compelling blend of the intimate and the historical, creating a story that is as much about the city and its past as it is about the characters themselves.

The novel is structured around two parallel narratives: one following a vampire through the centuries fleeing Europe and adapting to life in Buenos Aires, and the other in the present day, centering on a woman grappling with her mother’s terminal illness and her own ambivalent feelings toward motherhood. This split perspective not only enriches the story but also allows Yuszczuk to delve into the contrasts and connections between different eras, offering a poignant reflection on how the passage of time shapes human experience.

The portrayal of Buenos Aires is particularly evocative, with the city’s history and landscape almost becoming a character in its own right. The cemetery scenes are especially striking, transforming these spaces of death into places of eerie beauty and contemplation. This atmospheric setting not only enhances the gothic tone of the novel but also underscores the themes of loss and mortality that permeate the narrative. If you're like me, the novel might even evoke a desire to visit Buenos Aires, drawn by the vivid descriptions and the haunting allure of its cemeteries.

The vampire character in is a fascinating study in contradictions. She is both predator and protector, an outsider who must navigate the complex social fabric of human society while concealing her true nature. Through her eyes, Yuszczuk explores the dualities of power and vulnerability, desire and restraint. The vampire’s perspective offers a fresh lens through which to examine the human condition, particularly the ways in which we deal with fear, loneliness, and the inevitability of death.

However, it is in the present-day narrative that *Thirst* truly resonates on a deeply emotional level. The protagonist’s struggle with her mother’s degenerative illness is portrayed with unflinching honesty, capturing the complex and often contradictory feelings that arise when faced with the slow, painful decline of a loved one. This aspect of the novel struck a personal chord with me, The depiction of the emotional stasis caused by long-term caregiving is both poignant and painfully accurate, making this a novel that will likely resonate with anyone who has experienced the gradual loss of a family member.

While the first half of *Thirst* is gripping and immersive, the second half does lose some of its momentum. Yet, this is perhaps inevitable given the nature of the narrative, where the human protagonist is quite literally up against a vampire. Despite this slight dip in pacing, the novel remains a powerful exploration of grief, desire, and the limits of female agency.

I really enjoyed this book, now to book my plane tickets to Argentina...

The first part of this book is told from the POV of a vampire living in nineteenth century Buenos Aires skulking in the shadows and taking victims whilst a plague of yellow fever destroys the village. I enjoyed the almost video game feeling to the story, wandering around, encountering prey, attacking, switching to backstory/cut scene then carrying on with the mission. The THIRST of the vampire propels the narrative in this part, always looking for the next meal and watching the city fall apart. Selfishly, I would have liked the whole book to have been from her POV.

The second half of the story is told from a non-vampire woman’s perspective in modern day Buenos Aires. Her story reflects a lot on mortality and the grief of her mother’s terminal illness. It’s a stark contrast to the violence and intrigue of the first half. I can imagine that some people might enjoy these two storylines intersecting, but melancholic stories are not my thing. So I wanted MORE from the vampire.
Side note: loved that both characters read to me as bisexual/fluid.