Gilda Had Written the Stories of Their History

~The Gilda Stories~
By Jewelle L. Gómez
Amazon ~ Powell's

Before Buffy, before Twilight, before Octavia Butler's Fledgling, there was The Gilda Stories, Jewelle Gómez's sexy vampire novel.

This remarkable novel begins in 1850s Louisiana, where Gilda escapes slavery and learns about freedom while working in a brothel. After being initiated into eternal life as one who "shares the blood" by two women there, Gilda spends the next two hundred years searching for a place to call home.

An instant lesbian classic when it was first published in 1991, The Gilda Stories has endured as an auspiciously prescient book in its explorations of blackness, radical ecology, re-definitions of family, and yes, the erotic potential of the vampire story.


Breaking out of my reading slump to read last month's pick in Maven of the Eventide's (aka Elisa Hansen's) Vampire Book Club proved to be no easy feat. Unfortunately, my library did not carry the audiobook, and it turned out I had other obligations the night of the meeting. Luckily I found a copy of the audio online, and, as always, the book club meetings are saved for posterity, so while I wasn't there for the live discussion, I was able to participate in some ways (unlike the previous month's when my library didn't even carry a text copy for The Silver Kiss). And though I'd never heard of this book before the club picked it out, the premise seemed especially intriguing and I was eager to experience it. Let me just say, wow.

I am completely amazed and humbled by the strength exhibited by the author and her publishing team that got this book published in 1991. I mean, a lot of the subjects covered could still be deemed controversial in today's society, let alone 30 years ago! As I am not Black, Indigenous, or Lesbian, there are a lot of themes and topics in this book that I don't feel appropriate/comfortable/qualified to analyze. I do, however, want to at least mention their presence in the book so as to further impress this book's importance upon you. This book contains many same-sex couples, Black and Indigenous main characters, those who escaped from slavery, sex-workers, women who prefer the comfort and security of dressing as a man, found-families, and themes exploring Afrofuturism, empowerment and choice, consent, sex, sexuality, intimacy, community, and so much more.

But what's the book about? Well, these are Gilda's Stories (duh) following her from childhood, through becoming a vampire, and some 200 years of life that follow. We see her struggles with finding herself, finding love, family, and where she fits in the world, albeit on an extended timeline stretching through decades and centuries. Still, it was easy to relate to her anxiety about decision-making, whether she was right or ready to take that next step with someone or if she was better off leaving altogether, and when ultimately taking a life was necessary to preserve it. Okay, maybe not specifically that last part, for me at least, but, you know, like, hypothetically? Anyway. Gilda's journey was a joy to experience with her, through both good times and bad, and to reflect upon what it means to really live.

So then, about those vampires... I know relatively little about vampires in the grand scheme of things, mainly drawing on pop culture knowledge, movies, and a couple definitive works like Dracula and Camilla that I read in college. But these vampires seemed all at once more rich and realistic than most of the vampire lore I've consumed. The creation process is fairly traditional, with the sharing of blood back and forth, and the strength and longevity are pretty standard, but the feeding ritual was really where I was hooked.

Never mind the "vegetarian vampires" of Twilight, choosing to feed from animals instead of humans (though that's predicated by their turning process being achieved instantly through only one bite), these vampires practice equivalent exchange. They take what blood they need, and in return they use their psychic abilities to share wisdom, enhance dreams, or otherwise help the person from whom they feed. Granted, there are still those vampires who choose to inflict terror or death upon humanity, but they are painted as forever unsatisfied and are mainly pitied as lesser by Gilda and her vampire family. In that respect, Gilda never sees humans as prey or victims, rather as a transaction partner—though only a one-time partner as more might lead them closer to turning—though instead of money, dreams and blood are exchanged, which are both arguably more important to survival. They ultimately call the exchange a sharing of life, which was a radical and frankly amazing change from the typical portrayal of vampires as thieves, parasites, or villains.

The other vampire lore I found to be an intriguing mix between old and new was the system used to overcome their weaknesses. Running water and sunlight have been fairly consistent kryptonites to vampires, causing either incapacitation or death. But here, vampires are able to fortify themselves with soil from their home (a tool/requirement prevalent in Dracula). By having pockets of their home's (their human birthplace or their vampiric birthplace, I'm not fully sure) dirt woven in their clothing, sprinkled under their bedroll, or kept close by other means, they are able to travel far afield, cross bodies of water without trouble, and even survive indirect sunlight. This use of one's home soil as a source of strength was most likely clever marrying of vampire lore and Black heritage, as Alexis Pauline Gumbs writes in the Afterword:

"We were born on different soil than where we live, and share a longing to bring the dirt and sand of our ancestors with us." [98%]

Though, again, as a white person who barely has one line she can follow out of America, I don't think I can say much on that topic past the vampire lore.

The majority of this book is written as historical, jumping from 1850 to 1890 to 1920 through the 50s, 70s, and 80s. It was fascinating following Gilda through history, seeing the political climate and security slowly evolve their views of women and Black Americans, yet always keeping herself at arms length. It was enticing to be able to see and experience so much history, while simultaneously sad not to truly feel rooted anywhere, with anyone.

But when the time skipped to 2020, speculating about the far off future (from 1991's perspective), I was kinda taken out of the story. Maybe it was the shock of seeing that date in particular, a year which seems to carry an aura of sadness and outrage, depicted in such a foreign light. Or perhaps it was seeing it depicted as being in some ways worse than what it turned out to be. And then to be tossed into the wilds of 2050, where civilization seems all but lost, where disease runs rampant, and Gilda finds herself on the run again, I found it a bit jarring. Don't get me wrong, all of the themes of the story carried masterfully throughout, I just wasn't expecting the sudden shift to modern day/future, and was overwhelmed by the sudden alienness that the world-building seemed to take on with only a small bit of the book left. I guess just be prepared, and maybe take a breath after the 80s.

If I had to complain about one thing, it would probably be the characterization of the other vampires. Yes, I loved Gilda's vampire family, but they all seemed a bit to altruistic at times. Or when they weren't, it was all off-page or told in flashbacks. We never got to see any struggles or selfishness play out in front of Gilda except for clear antagonists, such that it seemed like Gilda was stupider/more naive than everyone else simply because she was the only one we saw grappling with doubt or greed or whatnot. I mean, I get it's her story, but I would have loved to see just a little struggle from anyone other than her. Maybe have her give advice to them at some point? Instead, she seemed to be constantly led around by the hand with all these perfect people who had already learned their own lessons long ago, or at least off-page without her. But that's more of a nitpick than a detriment to the book.

The writing style was also much different than I'm used to, opting for a more fluid and poetic style, rather than the stringent one topic or action per paragraph that is more prevalent in modern popular books. Many of the world-building, descriptive paragraphs were full to bursting, visually mirroring the fact that the characters had experienced more than could feasibly fit on the page. It took some getting used to, but the audiobook definitely helped keep me from getting hung up—especially when a bombshell memory would drop, making me panic that I'd been zoning out the last couple minutes, only for it then to be expanded upon in the next paragraph (this happened twice, both of which concerned acts of violence).

Overall, this book will undoubtedly sit with me for quite sometime. From the characters, to the settings, to the long and tumultuous journey of self-discovery, I was wholly invested. The exploration of life, and what it means to live and love from the perspective of an outsider, along with powerful depictions of struggling to choose what's best for yourself and for those around you, even if that means starting over, were what impacted me the most. I would highly recommend this book to anyone interested in historical fiction, books featuring BIPOC and/or LGBTQIA+ main characters, empowering women, Afrofuturism, or just a fresh, new take on vampires—even hailing from 30 years ago!

And if this book sounds at all interesting to you, I'd also recommend checking out some other reviews like that of ONYX Pages, Bookie Charm, or a Tor review, for more perspective and analysis of topics I don't feel I could cover as completely. And, of course, check out the Vampire Book Club's discussion from June 2021 for a more detailed rundown of the plot and a specifically vampiric view.

Read by Adenrele Ojo
Unabridged Length: 11.9 Hours
Listened at 2x Speed

A solid production all around. No glaring errors, passable voice work, a couple skipped sentences but no harm done there, and a smooth reading experience. There were a couple sung phrases toward the end of the book, but I understand not wanting to write music for the original song and/or perhaps the narrator wasn't comfortable with singing even the sampled verses/lines. It's not a huge deal, just something I enjoy when the extra step is taken.

I do want to say a couple things about the website I was able to listen to the audiobook on. The site allows you to listen to the audio for free, or download for a charge. I decided to just listen to the embedded audiobook with the help of a Chrome plugin, Global Speed, which was immensely helpful for getting the playback speed up to my normal double-time. And while the plugin and embedded player both worked fine, the website continually redirected to the homepage every half-hour-or-so, erasing my progress every time. Thus, I had to keep an eye on the tracker, reload the audiobook page, then try to move the slider as close to the mark it left off from as I could (which seemed to move at 3-minute intervals). I mean, I can't really complain since it was free, but I'll definitely only be using it as a last resort.

Overall, a great experience marred only by the website from which I obtained it. The audio does also include the Forward and Afterword from the 25th Anniversary editions, so if you haven't read the book since before 2016, you might want to check out at least that much (timestamps 00:00 and 697:18 respectively). I'd say this is a good experience for both new and experienced audiobook listeners, and one I definitely won't be forgetting anytime soon.