I've read a book by V. Castro before, 'The Haunting of Alejandra', and there are obvious parallels between that and this, but there are also huge differences in tone that make it feel almost like a story by a different author. Both of them feature lead characters who are female, either Aztec or of Aztec descent and involved in cultural reclamation. However, these characters live life in wildly different ways. Alejandra is the latest in a long line, her culture repressed by the decisions of the white evangelical Christians who adopted her and a husband who treats her like a possession. Her story is about reconnecting with her heritage almost like coming out of her shell.

Her equivalent here is Malinalli, a Nahuatl word meaning "grass", and she's all too aware of what her culture is and what was done to it, because she was there when it happened. She was made a vampire back in the 16th century, when the Spanish had invaded the lands of her people and put them to brutal use. Interestingly, she was considered something of a traitor because her method of survival was to work as a translator to Hernán Cortés, to whom she bore a child, though Martin was taken from her just as she was given to another man. She didn't like the Spanish or the work she did, but she did it anyway and there was a high cost to that.

Nowadays, she's an antiquities collector, using her knowledge and talents to acquire objects that have significant value to her culture and culturally reclaim them. Oddly, she does this primarily in the Americas, but is about to spend a month in Ireland and England, initially as a holiday and then to reclaim a pair of skulls, one of which belonged to Chantico, a woman who was like a mother to her back in the sixteenth century. What she finds changes her plans considerably and this morphs into a very different story.

Initially, it's a look at colonialism and it echoes the historical scenes in 'The Haunting of Alejandra' with the title character's ancestor, Atzi, but explored with more depth and patience. Colonalism is a continued focus throughout, from when it was happening to its cultural legacy; but there isn't a lineage here, just a continuation. Atzi and Alejandra were different characters, even if they were distantly related, but Malinalli is always Malinalli, whatever century she's in. Also, her nemesis is consistent, because Cortés is also still alive, having been turned himself late in life, and there's no way that their crossing paths in the 21st century isn't going to end with one of them dead.

The first half of this book is blistering and alive. Castro brings the 16^th-century to vivid life and we feel the pain echoing down the centuries. However, the modern day scenes are even more alive, as Malinalli finds herself distracted in Ireland by Colin, a horror novelist who runs a bookstore. She's taken lovers over the centuries and moved on, but there's a sexual charge between her and Colin that makes her wonder about settling down. Their scenes together are searing and intense with a passion that doesn't hold back. There was sex in 'The Haunting of Alejandra' but firmly repressed. This is erotica for a while.

Also, Malinalli feeds from hookers, clean ones whom she pays for their blood. There's no sex there, just kinship. We learn a lot about what it means to be a vampire from her, but only her because, in an interesting twist, there's almost no community here between vampires. There apparently are few such creatures and they tend to keep to themselves. When she meets Catherine in New York in 1969, it's the first time she's encountered a vampire in a century, after Cuauhtémoc, an Aztec ruler who originally turns her into a vampire. She has no idea how vampires function, only herself.

We almost learn more from Cortés, because he's continuing to exploit four centuries on, now as a dealer both in relics and in vampire parts. He goes by Martin Ruiz now, an older man who wasn't turned until he was sixty-two. His business partner is John Hawkes, an Englishman who helped to build the slave trade. These are villains in their original lives, in a whole slew of ways, but they're continuing to be cultural villains in the present day. I'm not sure if taking parts of vampires to use in an anti-aging beauty line called Immortalis is trafficking or dealing, but maybe it's both.

With a dearth of actual vampires in the book, even if some of the primary characters happen to be vampire, another being a mysterious clock shop owner called Maximilian, this gradually shifts into being a memoir. In a way, it was always a memoir, with us learning about colonialism by seeing it in Malinalli's experience, but it didn't feel like memoir then. It felt like background that was setting up a story in the present day. Those chapters are also interspersed with ones set now, so we feel as if Castro is filling us in on what we need to know historically to understand what's going on today. I had an absolute blast with the first half, relishing in how Malinalli is almost a cultural superhero, a woman using her vampire powers to reclaim and reappropriate.

However, as the book runs into its second half, we start to wonder if what we're reading still serves as background or distraction. We know that the 16^th-century scenes in Mexico give us background into who Malinalli is and why; but we wonder if the scenes in the late sixties, with Malinalli in New York, hanging out at jazz clubs, attending Woodstock and learning the importance of avoiding the tainted blood of those indulging in pharmaceutical recreation, really have anything to do with the story. So she's a fan of Richie Havens? Does this matter?

Another thing that happens late in the book that I question is the way it continually shifts genres. The cover makes it look like a work of erotica, which for a while it absolutely is. Of course, it's also a vampire story, which shifts it into horror, and that's abiding. Much of it focuses on culture as one of the most important identifiers in our species and that means that this could be seen as general fiction with topical parallels. The use of vampire as means of traversing time and change makes it viable as a work of historical fiction moving through periods. Somehow Castro makes all this work together, but when she trawls in both romance and action late in the novel, it feels a little forced.

The romance is a natural extension of the erotica, because it's how Malinalli is changing her views on what human connection means. She's looking for intimacy, having been long without. Action is a logical genre for a battle between vampires, freedom vs. exploitation personified through four characters at the heart of it all. So both make sense. However, the romance is sappy, a creature of such power as Malinalli suddenly getting all sappy and blathering about destiny, and the action is oddly repressed, with one particular decision making no sense to me whatsoever.

Now, the quality is high and the genre-hopping is fascinating, so my concerns merely temper how this played to me a little. For much of the first half, this had plenty of promise to be my favourite book of the year thus far. It's that powerful. During the second half, it clearly stopped being that, but I still enjoyed it and I still found it, alone and in comparison to 'The Haunting to Alejandra', an eye-opening read. I'm eager to see what V. Castro comes up with next. And yes, I really should pick up a copy of 'Aliens: Vasquez'. ~~ Hal C F Astell

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