Guillermo del Toro’s The Strain and the Importance of Research

[THIS ARTICLE CONTAINS SPOILERS!]

Although novels are fiction, research is an important part in the process of making the story of the novel both probable and plausible. The Strain by Guillermo del Toro and Chuck Hogan is an example of how authors can simultaneously succeed and fail when researching a novel.

Let me explain.

81svWyDFCeLThe Strain is the first part of a trilogy about how a vampire virus spreads among humans in North America and brings an end to the world as we know it. The main characters are Ephraim Goodweather, MD and CDC specialist, his colleague Nora Martinez and vampire hunter Abraham Setrakian.

The novel begins with a Boeing 777, which only minutes after landing at JFK Airport in New York becomes stranded on the taxiway, all its systems are shut down and everyone aboard are seemingly dead. In the cargo hold, a mysterious coffin filled with soil is discovered.

For a story such as The Strain to be plausible, the implausible elements—vampires taking over the world—need to be grounded in reality. This is achieved by del Toro and Hogan through extensive research. The set-up of the story—the Boeing 777 landing at JFK and the dead passengers being examined by Ephraim and his team, followed by the autopsy procedures of the Chief Medical Examiners Office in New York—is told in such detail that the text sometimes resembles a technical manual more than it does a novel. For example, for the JFK rescue crew to enter the aircraft, they need to cut a hole in the fuselage. This procedure is described as follows:

All commercial aircraft were constructed with certain “chop-out” areas. The triple seven’s chop out was in the rear fuselage, beneath the tail, between the aft cargo doors on the right side. The LR in Boeing 777-200LR stood for long range, and as a C-market model with a top range exceeding 9,000 nautical miles (nearly 11,000 U.S.) and a fuel capacity of up to 200,000 liters (more than 50,000 gallons) the aircraft had, in addition to the traditional fuel tanks inside the wing bodies, three auxiliary tanks in the rear cargo hold—thus the need for a safe chop-out area. (p. 25)

The tool needed to cut through the chop-out area of the fuselage is described in the  paragraph immediately following:

The maintenance crew was using an Arcair slice pack, an exothermic torch favored for disaster work not only because it was highly portable, but because it was oxygen powered, using no hazardous secondary gases such as acetylene. (p. 25)

The detailed descriptions of tools and procedures continue when the bodies are examined on site and when they are undergoing postmortems. The reader is provided with information on what victims of carbon-monoxide poisoning look like (p. 45), the procedures of so-called “canoeing” during autopsy (p.125) and the treatment of human brains in formaline (p. 125–126). At times, the authors even stop the action to provide an explanation:

Eph searched around wildly for anything that would help him keep this guy away from him, finding only a trephine in a charger on a shelf. A trephine is a surgical instrument with a spinning cylindrical blade generally used for cutting open the human skull during autopsy. The helicopter-type blade whirred to life, and Redfern advanced […].” (p.174)

In summation, del Toro and Hogan seem to have written a well-researched novel in which to place their vampire tale.

Or have they?

Let’s take a look at three instances where in-depth research seems to have been done, but in fact either has been done poorly or not at all.

1) How to remove facial makeup
After reading the detailed accounts provided by the writers, it comes as a surprise when one of the characters, a rock star named Gabriel Bolivar, sits down in his bathroom to remove his makeup and the following description of the procedure is provided:

Bolivar staggered off the bed and back into his bathroom and his makeup case. He sat down on the leather stool and went through his nightly ministrations. The makeup came off—he knew this because he saw it on the tissues—and yet his flesh looked much the same in the mirror. (p. 149)

If the authors had been consistent in their description of procedures, a detailed account of Bolivar’s “nightly ministrations” would have been provided. I am sure a cosmetologist would have loved to have answered any of their questions.

2) A occultation is still an eclipse
Shortly after the Boeing 777 lands at JFK a solar eclipse occurs. This is a total eclipse that lasts several minutes and is crucial to the development of the plot. The authors provide the following explanation (emphasis added by del Toro and Hogan):

The term solar eclipse is in fact a misnomer. An eclipse occurs when one object passes into a shadow cast by another. In a solar eclipse, the moon does not pass into the sun’s shadow, but instead passes between the sun and the earth, obscuring the sun—causing the shadow. The proper term is “occultation.” The moon occults the sun, casting a small shadow onto the surface of the earth. It is not a solar eclipse, but in fact an eclipse of the earth. (p. 77)

Is this true that we all have been calling a fascinating astronomical phenomenon by the wrong name? The answer to that question is both yes and no.

Britannica.com defines an eclipse as a “complete or partial obscuring of a celestial body by another. An eclipse occurs when three celestial objects become aligned.” The encyclopedic entry goes on to explain that there are many different types of eclipses, of which occultation is one. Therefore, “solar eclipse” is not a misnomer and “occultation” is not the only proper term. An occultation is a kind of eclipse. However, when writing a horror story it makes for a good set-up if a word containing the root “occult” can be used as a foreshadowing of what is to come.

3) What did the Romans ever do for the Poles? Absolutely nothing.
Abraham Setrakian is a Holocaust survivor who has dedicated his life to hunting the vampire that arrives in New York on the ill-fated Boeing 777. He first encountered the creature at Treblinka when it came to feed off weakened concentrations camp prisoners. Determined to stop the creature, Setrakian starts asking around among the other prisoners.

In the months since the Sardu-Thing’s first visit, Setrakian—obsessed with the notion of defeating such evil—learned as much as he could from other local prisoners about an ancient Roman crypt located somewhere in the outlying forest. There, he was now certain, the Thing had made its lair […]. (p. 177)

During the Treblinka uprising in 1943, Setrakian is one of the prisoners who manages to escape and avoid capture. He immediately sets out to locate the creature’s lair and succeeds.

He had heard of Roman ruins through camp hearsay from native Poles. It took him almost a week of roaming, until one late afternoon, in the dying light of dusk, he found himself at the mossy steps at the top of an ancient rubble. Most of what remained was underground, with only a few overgrown stones visible from the outside. A large pillar stood at the mound of stones. [—] It was also impossible to stand there at the dark mouth of these catacombs and not shudder. (p. 287)

There are several issues that need to be discussed concerning the creature’s lair.

One problem is that del Toro and Hogan can’t seem to decide whether the lair is a “crypt” or a “catacomb.” A crypt is a “vault or subterranean chamber, usually under a church floor.” There is no indication in the text that a church had stood at the site of the lair.  A catacomb, on the other hand, is an underground cemetery and the term is used exclusively for such cemeteries in and around the city of Rome.

But the terms used to described the lair are not the main problem. The main problem is the fact that the lair is described as Roman. Why is this a problem? It is a problem because the Roman Empire never included what is today Poland and the location of the Treblinka concentration camp. The sheer fact that Roman ruins are found in the Polish forest is historically inaccurate.

At its height the Roman Empire reached as far south as North Africa, as far east as present-day Turkey, Syria, Jordan and Israel, as far west as Spain and as far north as England. In the northeast, the Roman Empire reached to the rivers of the Rhine and the Danube. The Rhine runs through cities such as Strasbourg on the German-French border and Basel in northern Switzerland. The Danube runs through Vienna in Austria, Budapest in Hungary and Belgrade in Serbia.

Roman_Empire_mapMap of the Roman Empire from 510 B.C.E to the fall of Constantinople in 1453.
Source: http://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/4/4c/Roman_Empire_map.gif

Why del Toro and Hogan decided to make the lair of the creature explicitly Roman, I can’t understand. I am currently reading part two of the trilogy and so far there has been no mentioning of why the lair is of Roman origin, indicating that this particular piece of information is of no consequence to the development of the story. Moreover, the result of this decision is that I, the reader, begin to question everything else they throughout the novel have claimed to be established facts.

On the whole, The Strain is an entertaining read. It’s a fast-paced attention-grabbing adventure that brings back horror to vampire lore, written by two authors who take a keen interest in technology and medical science. However, if you want to come across as a credible storyteller, you can’t research only the things that interest you and ignore those that don’t.

In the words of my friend, the Australian, I shall return.

Sources:
Guillermo del Toro and Chuck Hogan The Strain (Harper, New York, 2011)
Britannica.com Eclipse
Britannica.com Crypt
Britannica.com Catacomb
Britannica.com Limes
United States Holocaust Memorial Museum Treblinka Death Camp Revolt

Note:
Thank you to Ida Östenberg, scholar and researcher of Classical Studies, Department of Historical Studies, University of Gothenburg.
The .gif map of the Roman Empire has been downloaded from Wikimedia Commons.
The book cover of The Strain has been downloaded from Amazon.com

 

 

 

 

 

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Book Riot: My Favorite Animal, the Book Scorpion

On July 10th, 2014, I published the following piece on Book Riot:

My Favorite Animal, the Book Scorpion

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My favorite animal is the book scorpion. I saw one recently in a room where my parents keep old family Bibles, hymnbooks, and cookbooks. At first I thought it was a tick sitting on the wall, and I went to kill it. Then I noticed the claws, and I realized that I was looking at a book lover’s best friend.

Despite its name, the book scorpion (Chelifer cancroides) is not an actual scorpion. It has two claws like a scorpion… To read the rest of the piece, please click here.

In the words of my friend, the Australian, I shall return.

Book Riot

In May this year I became a Contributor to Book Riot. Book Riot is a blog that writes about books, books, and—I don’t know if I mentioned it already—books. For me this is a great thing that has happened. I love books and I have been a reader and follower of Book Riot and their other Contributors for quite a while. Book Riot does a great job and I’m honored to be part of their team.

Whenever I publish a post on Book Riot that is suitable for The Boomerang, I will write about it here and post a link so that you can read it too.

In the meantime, you are welcome to check out my

Book Riot Contributor’s Page

Book Riot Author’s Page

Enjoy!

In the words of my friend, the Australian, I shall return.

The Reign of Karl XIII. Or Napoleon, the Swedish Revolution, and the Prince Who Fell Off His Horse

By far the most popular name for a Swedish king is Karl. There is Karl XII who lost Sweden’s Baltic empire and who according to legend is responsible for making stuffed cabbage a mainstay on Swedish dinner tables. There is Karl XIV Johan, the patriarch of the current royal dynasty, the Bernadottes. There is Karl XV who supposedly sired illegitimate children all over the realm. And last, but not least, there is the current king of Sweden, Carl XVI Gustaf.

But what about Karl XIII? Who was he?

Charles_XIII_of_Sweden
Karl XIII of Sweden, painting by C.F. von Breda.
Source: Nationalencyklopedin

Karl XIII (1748–1818) was king for a brief time. He ruled Sweden from 1809 to 1818 and Norway from 1814 to 1818. As king, Karl XIII has left few traces behind. I have only come across one public building mentioning his name. The building is a church tower belonging to a church located not far from where I grew up in Sweden.

Västra Tunhem_1 Västra Tunhem_4
The church tower at Västra Tunhem, Sweden. The plaque above the door reads: “In the year of 1810 during the reign of King Karl XIII this tower was built from the ground up.”
Photo: EH Kern

To understand why Karl XIII’s reign in hindsight may seem to have been of little consequence, we have to go back to the year 1792.

In 1792, King Gustav III is assassinated and his son, Gustav IV Adolf, becomes king. However, Gustav IV Adolf was a minor. Karl XIII—at this point in time known as Duke Karl—expected to be appointed guardian since he was the brother of Gustav III. But the relationship between the two brothers was strained. On his deathbed, Gustav III made an addendum to his last will and testament, prohibiting the appointment of Karl as Gustav IV Adolf’s guardian. After Gustav III had passed away, Karl managed to have this addendum annulled and consequently became the legal guardian of his nephew and the de facto ruler of Sweden.

Karl’s guardianship lasted for four years. During those years, Karl was a weak ruler and instead his personal favorite and adviser, G.A. Reuterholm took the reins.  In 1796 Gustav IV Adolf came of age. Karl lost all of his influence and he retired from politics.

Gustav IV Adolf became king during the height of the French Revolution. His response was to explicitly distance himself from what happened in France. By 1796, France’s army, under the leadership of Napoléon Bonaparte, had begun its advancement across Europe in a military conflict that would spill over into the European colonies in North America and Africa and continue unabated until the defeat of France at the Battle of Waterloo in 1815.

Because of his opposition to Revolutionary France, Gustav IV Adolf allied himself with France’s enemies. The result of this was war with Russia, at this time an ally of France. For Sweden this war ended in disaster. In 1808, Russia invaded Finland and advanced as far as northern Sweden. In the ensuing peace negotiations of 1809, Finland and the Åland Islands were handed over to Russia. Finland had been a part of the Swedish kingdom since the middle of the twelfth century and constituted half of the kingdom’s surface. Needless to say, the outcome of the war was crushing and Gustav IV Adolf took the blame.

In May 1809, following a military coup, Gustav IV Adolf was forced to abdicate. This coup is the only one of its kind in Swedish history and is viewed as the closest that Sweden has come to a revolution. In the aftermath of the coup, an extra-ordinary parliament (riksdag) decided that neither Gustav IV Adolf nor any of his descendants were allowed to ascend the throne of Sweden.

But the kingdom still needed a king.

Enter Karl.

Karl XIII was elected king in 1809 on the condition that he accepted the new constitution that regulated royal power in relationship to the power of the riksdag.

However, at this time Karl XIII was an old man without heirs. This meant that an heir to the throne had to be located.

In an attempt to convince Norway to become joined in a union with Sweden, Prince Kristian August was appointed heir to the throne. Everything seemed to have been solved for the best, when in 1810 Kristian August during a military drill fell off his horse and died from his injuries.

The search was on again. A new candidate was located, ironically in Napoléon Bonaparte’s France. The man was one of Napoléon’s Field Marshals who had fallen out of grace with the French Emperor. His name was Jean Baptiste Bernadotte, son of a middle-class lawyer from the town of Pau in southwestern France. Jean Baptiste Bernadotte was legally adopted by Karl XIII as his heir and in 1818 he ascended the throne in Sweden as Karl XIV Johan and in Norway as Karl III Johan.

848825
Jean Baptiste Bernadotte/Karl XIV Johan. The portrait was painted by Fredrik Westin in 1810, when Bernadotte was known as Prince Karl Johan.
Source: Nationalencyklopedin

As king, Karl XIII showed the same traits of political weakness as he had as Gustav IV Adolf’s legal guardian. In fact, he was opposed both to the constitution of 1809 and to Jean Baptiste Bernadotte, but lacking political strength he had no other choice but to concede. Moreover, in 1809 he suffered from a stroke and during the final years of his reign he was incapacitated by health issues and incapable to rule.

During his lifetime, Karl XIII was a dedicated free mason. His legacy as such lives on in the Carl XIII’s Order (Carl XIII:s Orden), awarded Swedish and foreign masons of Protestant faith.

Karl XIII passed away in 1818 and lies buried in the Riddarholm Church in Stockholm.

In the words of my friend, the Australian, I shall return.

Sources:
Nationalencyklopedin Karl XIII
Nationalencyklopedin Sverige Historia Gustaviansk tid (1772–1809)
Nationalencyklopedin Sverige Historia Nytt statsskick
Nationalencyklopedin Sverige Historia Tronföljarval och utrikespolitiskt systemskifte
Nationalencyklopedin Karl XIV Johan
Wikipedia Carl XIII:s Orden

Note:
In English, Swedish kings by the name of Karl are called Charles. Here, I have chosen to use the Swedish names.