Vampires V: Let The Right One In

John Ajvide Lindqvist's novel fills an essential role in the genre

Ancient Lore

I arise once again to write about vampires, this time with regard to Let The Right One In (also titled Let Me In) by John Ajvide Lindqvist. The book follows events in the suburb of Blackeberg outside Stockholm in the weeks after a child-like vampire (Eli) and her familiar (Håkan) move in.

I'm a little lost as to how this 2004 novel slipped by my notice for so long, especially given that it has apparently been adapted not once, not twice but three times! I'll only be discussing spoilers for the novel today.

This is my fifth article on vampires; you can find my previous posts here:

• Part I examines vampires for their allusions to our societal threats and fears

• Part II flips the perspective, exploring how vampire experiences reflect our own

• Part III questions the nature of vampire souls; related to art, redemption and more

• Part IV engages with The God of Endings and its themes of immortality & intervention

'Carmilla V', by Caroline Murta

Where's the 1980s Vampire Story?

It, Stranger Things, The Goonies, Stand by Me, Super 8, E.T. – Between the actual 1980s and the 2010s, it really feels like the kids-on-bikes genre should have gotten around to vampires at some point. The closest you really get is the Frog Brothers in The Lost Boys, though they're not main characters and are (amusingly) in full-blown Rambo mode from the get-go.

Let the Right One In feels to me like a perfect (if more mature in content) fit, with Oskar a quintessential 80s protagonist. Enjoying puzzles, delivering newspapers, dealing with tormenting bullies, evading the drug-abusing older kids with parents who mean well but just can't quite help in this situation, you could see him fitting into any of those other stories.

It's not even entirely out of left field to have him befriend Eli – just look at Stranger Things with Eleven or E.T. with, well, E.T. – since there is ultimately a greater threat they can work together to deal with: Håkan.

Eli and Oskar, by Mr_Gorrion28

Perspective

Eli is a genuine horrifying vampire, without even the niceties of being able to survive off of animal blood or partial feeding from a human: she must kill to survive, is able to shapeshift in order to do so and quickly becomes frail & emaciated if she doesn't.

And Lindqvist manages to make her absolutely lovable and cuddly compared to Håkan. The novel doesn't use the term 'familiar' to describe him, but I think it is useful context. Think of Dracula's Renfield, whose madness looms over the first have of that novel; or of Jackie and Guillermo in What We Do In The Shadows (Film & TV Show respectively), who act as servants and secure fresh blood for their masters:

Jackie's scenes in What We Do In The Shadows (2014)

All of these characters are united by the goal of eventually becoming vampires themselves, serving their masters as dutifully as possible in order to earn favour. Håkan... is just a pedophile in love with Eli.

So, compared to the child predator Håkan whose head the novel spends far too much time in (it's frankly a relief when he eventually becomes just a thoughtless killing machine), predator child Eli is pretty great. Plus her friendship with Oskar is genuinely heartwarming.

Eli's Gender

I was quite pleasantly surprised to find that this 2004 Swedish horror novel thought more about gender and pronouns than most media does even today. Early on Eli confides in Oskar that she is neither a boy or a girl, giving me the initial impression that her situation was similar to that of Anna in The God of Endings – turned sexless by the vampiric transformation.

Instead it's later revealed that she was born male (as Elias) and castrated by the vampire who turned her back in the 1800s. From this point on the novel (mostly through Oskar's perspective) switches to using he/him for Eli (I'll stick to she/her for consistency); Oskar tries out calling her 'Elias' but finds it uncomfortable. Eli herself never declares a preference, and is simply glad to have a friend that accepts her for who and what she is.

It's a fascinating choice on the author's part to engage with any of this – especially in 2004 – and to have Oskar reflect on his feelings toward someone who he sees as genderless, then later on male. These are genuine, important queer themes and it's really cool to see them explored – even in such a strange place.

Oskar and Eli, by LinaDolz

A Virulent Strain

One idea that feels profound here (and which felt highly relevant since I read while down with the flu) is how easily Eli's condition seems to spread – very much against her will, unlike in most vampire tales.

Usually a person must be fed vampire blood in order to turn (whether immediately or upon death), making the spread of vampirism highly intentional each and every time. Let the Right One In takes the opposite approach, with every one of Eli's victims liable to turn unless she specifically takes action to prevent it.

It's a horrifying but clever narrative twist for a protagonist vampire. She's already had to decide that her life is worth living at the expense of others', but now must also proceed with utmost caution lest her moral quandary multiply. We see Håkan and Virginia – both turned after Eli was forced to flee while feeding on them – destroyed at the end of this novel without spreading the curse further, but it's so easy to imagine the alternative where it gets entirely out of control and becomes reminiscent of something like 'Salem's Lot.

Through Virginia, Lindqvist also explores the mechanics of the vampire infection:

It was toward morning, when she was sitting on a kitchen chair and sucking blood from a cut in the crook of her arm—the second one in the same spot—that she was suddenly pulled into the depths of her body and caught sight of it. The infection. She didn’t really see it, of course, but suddenly she had an ever increasing perception of what it was. It was like being pregnant and getting an ultrasound, looking at the screen showing you how your belly was filled with, in this case, not a child but a large, writhing snake. That this was what you were carrying. Because what she had realized at that moment was that the infection had its own life, its own force, completely independent of her body. That the infection would live on even if she did not. The mother-to-be could die of shock at the ultrasound but no one would notice anything because the snake would take control of the body instead.

This 'snake' is an interesting parallel to Vampire: The Masquerade's inner Beast, both capable of hijacking control of the host body if necessary; something of a reflection of our own animal instincts. (More on Virginia and her choice of ending in my next Vampire post.)

Art from vecteezy.com

Let the Right One Into the Crock Pot

The title(s) of the novel – and Eli during the story – reference the idea that vampires must be granted permission to enter a building. Lindqvist plays with the phrase by also having it refer to letting someone into our heart/lives, with Eli and Oskar but also a wide array of characters and relationships across the cast. There's a haunting reflection here on danger and safety as they relate to intimacy and loneliness, which might be worth a read! (Or perhaps another look here in the future.)

Back in Part I I dropped some hints that you might want to check out Midnight Mass on Netflix; I'll encourage you to do so once again now, because ~for some reason~ it may be the focus of an upcoming article.

Thanks for reading, until next time <3