Review of Red Snow by Ian Macleod

I've always thought of Ian Macleod as a writer who can transcend genre, or at least get beneath its skin, to find its human heart. The Light Ages is steampunk with real adolescent concerns. The Summer Isles is alternate history specifically positioned to get to the bottom of one man's personal issues. The superb novella “New Light on the Drake Equation” is 'hard sf' to a lot of readers, but it is more about an alcoholic astronomer stuck in a rut of life. So where does Macleod's 2017 novel Red Snow, a novel ostensibly about vampires in the late 19th century, apply its human spade?

Red Snow tells the story of three different people. For the purposes of spoilers, however, we'll start and end with Karl Haupmann, who begins the novel. Doctoral student swept into the American Civil War, he helps the North's effort, surviving only to be bitten by a crazed man in the aftermath of battle. Two other soldiers likewise bitten, Haupmann observes radical changes in their and his bodies. Wounds heal quickly, an aversion to sunshine develops, as does a thirst for blood—classic vampire symptoms. Clinging to his humanity, Haupmann searches for and finds a bandaid solution to his situation: morphine. The drug dulls his urges and gets him through waning moons. But returning to his friends and family after the war he discovers his appearance and behavior are too cold, too strange. Rejected, Haupmann is left to scour the Earth, looking for the source of his condition, heroin syringe in hand.

Red Snow is a more personal, condensed version of Anne Rice's Vampire Chronicles. Macleod captures drama similar to Rice, but where Rice looks to explore the lore of her vampire vision, Macleod focuses his tale on the three people's inner lives—their decisions, reactions, circumstances before and after vampirism, and in one case, further beyond.

I generally do not laud Macleod for being a storyteller. This is not to say he is poor at it; his stories always flow smoothly, highly readable, only that other elements tend to be stronger. In Red Snow, however, Macleod needs to be recognized. He weaves a phenomenal tale. Forward in time, backward in time, side story, main story—Macleod juggles multiple timelines and characters. And as with any well edited story, the disparate pieces slowly conflate into a singular vision.

If there is a challenge in Red Snow for some readers to overcome, one would be the relatively underwhelming ending. While strongly personal in nature relative to the main character on stage at that time, it lacks the grandiosity or fireworks many genre readers may expect. Macleod leads readers on a bit, making some believe there will be fireworks, when setting up such a climax. But then secretly he extinguishes the fuse—not at the last moment; that would have been cruel, but in quiet, indirect fashion that will leave some readers looking back and wondering where the fireworks went.

In the end, Red Snow is what one would expect of a vampire story by Macleod. The genre elements are colorful, descriptive, and help move scenes forward with purpose. But the main characters' personal stories are front and center. And always-always, the simplest scenes with curt dialogue speak volumes more than their diminutive size would seem to allow. Readers of Anne Rice's Vampire Chronicles, Dan Simmon's Children of the Night, or George R.R. Martin's Fevre Dream may be interested. Imminently readable, difficult to put down.