Until earlier this year, the only novel I’d read by the late Todd Grimson was Brand New Cherry Flavor. That book was an absolute headrush, one part bizarre tale of the supernatural, one part cutting Hollywood satire. It was adapted for the small screen a few years ago by Nick Antosca and Lenore Zion; Antosca had long been an advocate for the book, and for Grimson’s work in general. And now there’s a stylish new edition of another one of Grimson’s novels out in the world: Stainless. This is also a story of the uncanny intersecting southern California; it’s also not what you might expect.
First, the elephant in the room: this is a book featuring both vampires and rock and roll. While connecting the two isn’t quite a trope, there are some high-profile examples, including another book-to-screen adaptation — this one originating in an Anne Rice novel — due later this year. Bauhaus sang about Bela Lugosi; David Bowie played a vampire in The Hunger. And S.P. Somtow wrote a trilogy about a vampire-turned-rock star. Where Stainless excels is through the details: there’s a fictional band that plays a significant role in the novel, and you might be tempted to thumb through AllMusic or Discogs after you read to see what you can find of theirs.
That’s one of the ways in which this book stands out: it’s more a tale of creative and moral burnout than it is one about the everyday routines of subsisting on the lifeblood of other people. Though there’s certainly plenty of that in these pages as well.
At the heart of Stainless are two very damaged individuals. When we meet Keith, he’s still young but has already failed on a scale most people couldn’t imagine. He was in SMX, an up-and-coming rock band from L.A.; was dating Renata, a model; and was making legitimately groundbreaking music. (One character compares SMX’s music to “being on the runway when planes were landing and crashing at LAX.”) And then, following a tragic death and a violent man seeking revenge, he was none of those things. He’s become the Renfield to Justine’s Count Dracula, Justine being a centuries-old Frenchwoman who made her way to California years before and now lives a hedonistic life, generally taking blood from others, though rarely enough to kill them.
Among the standout aspects of Stainless are the relatively quotidian ways in which Grimson depicts Justine and Keith’s routines. At one point, when Keith is tasked with disposing of some dead bodies, his return trip from a remote part of the state is disrupted when his vehicle breaks down. And while Justine herself is a somewhat familiar figure — a stunning, alluring figure with a melancholy air about her — Grimson focuses on some of the less enticing aspects of vampirism. Justine can’t remember much of her history, for one thing. And unlike the idea of the vampire as a decadent aristocrat, her origins are much more humble — something she remains conflicted about.
There is a wider plot in Stainless. Keith’s vehicular distress puts him back into contact with the music scene he walked away from, and an old enemy of Justine’s makes a return to modern-day Los Angeles. But this is a book where the lived-in details are designed to be savored, and where the characters can do things that surprise and even shock the reader. This is a novel that lingers, both on the complex history of Los Angeles and the complex minds of its characters. Its characters may haunt the night, but they aren’t the most disquieting beings to dwell there.
***
Stainless
by Todd Grimson
McNally Editions; 256 p.