6 The 2005 Conference will take place July 25- 29 in Lodz, Poland, hosted by Plogojiwitz University. Hotels fill up quickly, so reservations are suggested.
7 Much as it was once considered beneath mortal nobility to engage in mercantile activities, it is widely asserted that for Vampires to produce their own quasi-fictional texts is vulgar in the highest degree. To speak for ourselves threatens the exposure of our entire Community, and most agree that the formulation of ridiculous and outlandish stories of bloodletting and cannibalism ought to be left to those mortal authors who find it titillating.
8 Predictably, this has caused a number of rumors to arise as to the orientation of Dr. Petrescu. While the editors of this site feel that such a subject is merely salacious and has no place in a professional biography, or in the parlor rooms of certain aged male Faculty members, they will note, without commentary, that Dr. Petrescu has co-habited with the Italian Edenite scholar Genevra Verzini in Budapest since 1995.
University of Csejthe Press
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CONTACT: Andrei Bogoescu, publicity@csejthepress.com
EXSANGUINATIONS
A Handbook For The Educated Vampire
by Anna S. Oppenhagen-Petrescu
translated from the Romanian by Catherynne M. Valente
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AN OCTOBER 2009 RELEASE
In October 2009, the prestigious University of Csejthe Press will release Anna S. Oppenhagen-Petrescu’s long-awaited work,
Exsanguinations: A Handbook for the Educated Vampire. This much-discussed volume will contain a distillation of 25 years of research into the Origins, Customs, History, and Literature of the Vampire Community. It will serve both as a primer for the Newly Converted and a convenient desk reference for the experienced Dark Academic. Never before has such a variety of scholarly work been brought together in one place, and readers can look forward to a truly definitive delineation of the Vampire Culture in Dr. Petrescu’s trademark simple, elegant prose.
Look for
Exsanguinations at fine purveyors of Demonic Texts throughout Europe and America in October 2009.
ADVANCE PRAISE FOR EXSANGUINATIONS
“Petrescu has done it! This text will stand for many cycles of Conversion hence. There can be no finer manual for the Vampiric existence than this lovely volume, no more concise and sensitive expression of the postmodern fiend.”
– Genevra Verzini
“Dare I call this the Vampiric Bible? I think I must, for no more inclusive and profound a book has yet been produced in the Community.”
– Adrian Maru
To interview Anna S. Oppenhagen-Petrescu, or to request more information about
Exsanguinations or any other Csejthe Press titles, contact Csejthe Press publicity director Andrei Bogoescu at publicity@csejthepress.com.
EXSANGUINATIONS
by Anna S. Oppenhagen-Petrescu
(Non-Fiction / 978-1-59780-156-0 / $15.95 / 400 pages)
a Csejthe Press trade paperback / October 2009
to learn more visit www.csejthepress.com
Lucy, in Her Splendor
by Charles Coleman Finlay
Charles Coleman Finlay is the author of the novel The Prodigal Troll. Writing as C. C. Finlay, he has a historical fantasy trilogy called Traitor to the Crown just out from Del Rey, consisting of The Patriot Witch, A Spell for the Revolution, and The Demon Redcoat. Finlay’s short fiction has appeared in several magazines and anthologies, and has been collected in Wild Things. His novella, "The Political Prisoner,” is a finalist for the 2009 Hugo and Nebula awards.
Finlay says that the appeal of the vampire is about the seduction of easy, self-gratifying choices, and the prices we pay for our pleasures. "It’s about the contradiction that happens when we peer at the darkness within ourselves only to find a light,” he said. "I suspect that vampires are a kind of literary Rorschach test, revealing the suppressed secrets of our individual personalities and emotional states. That’s why they’re such a source of endless fascination.”
“Lucy, In Her Splendor" is about a couple that owns a bed and breakfast on an island. What happens on the island stays on the island, even when you’d rather have it go away.
When they were done, they sat in the plastic lawn chairs by the lake and listened in the dark to waves lapping the sharp white boulders mounded along the shore.
The first moth came fluttering from the direction of the pumphouse. It slapped into Lucy’s cheek almost accidentally and startled them both. She raised her hand against it and the moth settled on one white-tipped nail. As she flicked her fingertip, it lifted into the air and hurtled back at her face.
A second and a third moth followed seconds later, followed in time by others until a tiny halo of insects swirled around her short, platinum blonde hair.
“Could be worse,” Martin said, trying to wave them off. "Could be mosquitoes.”
She smiled at him, shifted her chair closer, and leaned against his shoulder.
“God, Lucy, you’re hot,” he said.
She laughed, a little sadly, making a warm vibration that resonated in his chest. "I’m glad you still think so.”
“No,” he said. "Are you sure you haven’t turned into a bug lamp. I swear you’re hot enough to zap those bugs to ashes.”
“You-”
She lifted her hand to slap him, but he caught it and folded her fingers within his own. Her skin was dry, caked with grit. He gave it a little squeeze and looked around, but rows of trees blocked the view of their neighbors. More bugs flew at Lucy’s head.
Her voice trembled. "I’m really sick, aren’t I?”
“It’s just a fever. That’s all it is.” He placed her hand in his lap, and tried to wave the bugs away. One of the moth’s wings buzzed harshly while the stones tapped against each other in the susurration of the waves. "Let’s go inside.”
“I don’t know what I’d do without you,” she whispered.
Without saying anything to reassure her, he helped her to her feet, propping her up as they strolled back to the house. When they passed the hand-carved sign that read "Crow’s Nest Bed & Breakfast, Little Limestone Island,” he flipped the board.
Sorry, No Vacancy.
Her fever burned all night. Martin sat on the edge of the bed, feeding her tablets of aspirin and ice chips.
A single moth had followed them inside the house, tickling Lucy out of her rest until Martin turned on the lamp and the tiny creature flew to rest, panting, on the white shade. He smashed it, leaving a smear of gray dust and wings.
Walking over to the gable window, he gazed out of their attic apartment at the lake. All their life’s savings were encompassed by these few acres of land, bounded on one end by the stone jetty covered with zebra-mussel shells and on the other by the apple tree with the bench swing. When insects began collecting at the screen, he stepped away.
Lucy shuddered in her sleep, sucking air through her mouth. Martin bent over and slipped his tongue-briefly-between her teeth. He expected the soursweet taste of sickness, but it wasn’t there.