FILTH EATERS

Romo’s compact vampire epic spans centuries and continents.

With a narrative that encompasses the distant past and the near future, this story of the restless undead doesn’t lack ambition. It begins in the year 2069 in a partially flooded New York City. The focus is on Doro, a brilliant and ruthless vampire who calls the city home. In flashbacks, Romo introduces two more vampires, Shandor and Radamés, in the 11th and 15th centuries, respectively. Radamés’ path leads him across the Atlantic from Spain to Tenochtitlán, La Nueva España, where he meets Tepín, whose vampirism is of a different variety: She’s a Filth Eater, with different weaknesses and the ability to bear children. Eventually, Romo reveals the connection between Doro and the vampires who came before him. Romo uses sensory descriptions to good effect: “He could smell them too, putrid, of feces and urine, a sour he could now never forget.” But there’s also an uneven quality to the book; at one point, Tepín delivers several pages’ worth of exposition. In a longer novel, the monologue wouldn’t have stood out as strongly, but here it’s given little room to breathe. There’s an irony in the way Doro has become wealthy from developing widely used surveillance technology, given the tradition of vampires needing to be invited into a home. This element is one of several places where Romo builds on familiar vampire lore and turns a trope into something both unfamiliar and insightful. Another can be found in the contrast between Radamés’ quest for something grander and Doro’s hedonistic, predatory lifestyle. There’s a lot to admire here, but the occasionally frenetic pace does no favors to the narrative’s big ideas.

A compelling but uneven revitalization of vampire lore.