Jonathan Harker: The ‘Absolute Love Corrupts Absolutely’ Villain That Almost Was*
*LONG before Francis Ford Coppola’s Cinematic Gary Oldman Fanfiction
Spoilers ahead for the Dracula Daily enjoyers, because I’m whipping out all my literary receipts on this.
I recently finished speed-rereading Dracula because I have no self-control. In doing so, I got a refresher on quite a few incendiary factors of the book that time had dulled in my memory.
1. There’s a TON of ‘I’m not like other girls!’ and ‘men good, women dainty,’ and ‘What no I’m not projecting, honest, I just really like the words manful, voluptuous, manful, aquiline, manful, God, and manful again. –Bramothy Stoker,’ so brace for that from basically the whole cast. I’m blaming it partly on Bram Flakes’ own prejudices, of which there are plenty, and the fact that he’d clearly never met a thesaurus in his life.
(I appreciate everyone’s mental revamp of Mina as the New Woman to Lucy’s Classic Damsel, but…oof. Everyone’s in for a harsh Period/Stoker Accurate reminder.)
2. Brammy Pajamas was either hanging around some exceptionally devout Christians to write some of the second/third act scenes with everyone basically thrashing and wailing and falling on their knees and clasping/kissing hands as they pray to/thank God, all while thinking it was perfectly natural behavior for these characters…or he legit had no clue how any kind of ordinary human being, Christian or otherwise, would react to the situations he puts them in.
(Seriously, it’s not even that everyone’s devout, it’s that they’re all written to act like they’re in a soap opera where the only direction they got was to be as hammy and histrionic as physically possible. You’ll know the scenes when you see them.)
3. Jonathan Harker has not only been done dirty by every adaptation since the book in terms of being a main character, along with being the character to spend the most time with Dracula in close quarters, period, and being the love interest for Mina—his whole character arc by the second half of the book is the most blazing hot, “If my beloved is destined for damnation, I’m heading to Hell with her, fuck all else,” shit I have ever read in classic literature, full stop.
Not Dracula. Not any character based on Dracula.
Jonathan fucking Harker is the OG archetype for Love Corrupts (Violently), and the canon story avoided him going full tragic villain by t h i s much. You want proof? Let’s go.
NOTE: MAIN SPOILERS STRAIGHT FROM THE BOOK, SHIELD YOUR EYES
Here’s the part most Harker fans scream over, myself included:
“To one thing I have made up my mind: if we find out that Mina must be a vampire in the end, then she shall not go into that unknown and terrible land alone. I suppose it is thus that in old times one vampire meant many; just as their hideous bodies could only rest in sacred earth, so the holiest love was the recruiting sergeant for their ghastly ranks.”
Good shit, good shit! Jonathan was already prepared to risk falling to his death from a cliff or being eaten by wolves rather than stay in Castle Dracula for a bloodthirsty eternity with the ladies. But now? Mina is quite literally his, “You are worth Hell,” Beloved. But there’s more. Fast forward to one of Team Fuck-Up-That-Old-Undead-Man’s first head-on encounters with the Count. As they’re waiting, Jonathan gets impatient, declaring:
“I care for nothing now,” he answered hotly, “except to wipe out this brute from the face of creation. I would sell my own soul to do it!”
He says as much in front of his Christian+ buddies who, by now, had pretty fair reasons to believe in the legitimacy of Hell and all its demons. Van Helsing is definitely startled and seemingly talks him down from such an oath. Key word being seemingly. Because we jump forward again to a point where Mina, in full saintly forgiveness mode (and apparently selectively forgetting Van Helsing’s history lesson about Dracula’s pre-vampire days being ones of a slaughtering tyrant), saying that if/when they destroy the Count, oh, how happy his soul will be to be free of his torment on Earth, et cetera. Jonathan Harker has a rebuttal to share. Namely:
“May God give him into my hand just for long enough to destroy that earthly life of him which we are aiming at. If beyond that I could send his soul forever and ever to burning hell I would do it!”
God forgives. Jonathan Harker emphatically does not.
Onward again, and he speaks volumes by what he does not say. Chiefly, there’s a point where Mina, now in full martyr preparation should the worst happen, makes the boys swear an oath to destroy her body if/when she succumbs and dies to Dracula’s vampiric poisoning so she cannot rise again as one of his ladies. The boys swear. Mostly. What we get from Jonathan is…
“And must I, too, make such a promise, oh, my wife?”
“You too, my dearest.” (Note: The rest of her paragraph here is full of the most knife-twisting, utterly warped martyr ‘pep talk’ I’ve ever read, and I have no idea how she/Bramarama thought it would remotely convince Jonathan this was all a reasonable and chill thing she was talking about. Anyway.)
It’s important to note that absolutely nowhere in the ensuing text does Jonathan ever speak the promise out loud. He does read the goddamn Burial Service at Mina’s request, which he barely chokes his way through. But he never makes the oath.
Another jump ahead. They are on the hunt for Dracula and, alas, have just missed him at a key point. Most of the gang are shaking their fists at the sky, cursing up and down. And what is Jonathan doing? Well, to quote Jack Seward, just before the epiphany…
“We men were all in a fever of excitement, except Harker, who is calm; his hands are as cold as ice, and an hour ago I found him whetting the edge of the great Ghoorka knife which he now always carries with him. It will be a bad look-out for the Count if the edge of that ‘Kukri’ ever touches his throat, driven by that stern, ice-cold hand!”
And upon discovery of the Count slipping them…
“Harker smiled—actually smiled—the dark bitter smile of one who is without hope; but at the same time his action belied his words, for his hands instinctively sought the hilt of the great Kukri knife and rested there.”
For context, by this point Jonathan had already come at Dracula with said Kukri knife a while back, having nearly landed the blow after charging out of the pack and nearly fucking gutting the Count. For extra context, this is a Kukri knife:
He’s just been walking around with that. For half the book. Plotting.
And, with all of this in mind, we can only assume Jonathan had two plans of action in mind.
Plan A, follow Van Helsing’s lead.
…Not counting the moment he almost bit the Professor’s head off for saying he had to bring Mina along with him to Castle Dracula. Another good scene which includes his very succinct reaction to Van Helsing’s suggestion, even if he does have to agree in the end:
“Not for the world! Not for Heaven or Hell!”
Anyway. If the plan works out, cool. He gets to kill Dracula, Mina is saved. Best case scenario!
But then there’s the unspoken, explicitly unwritten (in case his pages need to be read), but heavily foreshadowed Plan B. They cannot destroy the Count, in time or otherwise. Mina is now either a corpse waiting to awake as a vampire, or a vampire already. The others, true to their vow, mean to destroy her.
Jonathan Harker, true only to Mina, in whatever form she may take, still has that Kukri. And the element of surprise. And a full acknowledgment of the realities of Heaven, Hell, and his holding Mina’s continued existence above them, his friends, his sanity, his humanity, and himself.
In short, all your tragically romantic Draculas can kindly go fuck themselves with a wooden stake. Jonathan Harker is the first and best gothic horror example of a person in love to the point of madness, damnation, and willingness to deceive or destroy anyone who would endanger the one he loves. The only reason we never got to see it in action was because Stoker had to tack on a happy ending. If he hadn’t?
The census would be less four unsuspecting heroes and plus two newlywed vampires.
The End.
Suck on it, Francis.
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courtesy of the enablers in my notes, here is my Flamingo Wisdom gained from the catch today
first of all, a flamingo separated from its flock (as it has to be when you are moving that beast around) is kind of like a horse, in that it will freak the fuck out if a leaf so much as moves in the corner of its eye, and it really really really wants to break its stupid twig legs by any means necessary. and you really cannot let them do this, because they will probably die, but they are stronger than they look and despite their insane 70+yrs captive lifespan they appear pretty fucking determined to spectacularly remove themselves from this mortal coil. if they cannot kill themselves, they will simply attempt to kill something else; if you do not personally clamp their beaks shut using your entire hand they will reach around with their long stupid tube necks and start swinging without hesitation. they bite, and will rip out hair and earrings and whatever else in reach they can get their fucked up beaks on. several of the flamingos were covered in visible blood stains of unknown origin before even picking them up, and half the day was spent wondering if one had been attacked and was doing all this bleeding, but as far as i know nobody ended up finding any which left way more questions than answers
to transport a flamingo is a two-person effort, because they are so long and so desperate to fuck up themselves or whoever is around them that you need at least two sets of hands to pull it off safely. one person holds the flamingo facing backwards tucked under one arm kind of like a set of bagpipes. with the other arm you have to hold both legs apart, because if they are allowed to lash out you get fun accidents like "vet tech pummeled in the balls with full force of both flamingo feet at once, advised to leave premises". you have to hold the legs facing downwards, otherwise the circulation gets cut off, as they are physically incapable of pumping their own blood down there without the effects of gravity. the resulting effect looks kind of like you are holding a guitar wrong, or slow-dancing in a really fucked up way. it is also objectively impossible to place your hands on the bird in a way that you will not get pissed on.
the second person has to stand just behind the first and supervises the head, holding its beak shut as shown and supporting the neck in a comfortable position. some flamingos do not Have a comfortable position and will just spend the entire time wriggling and trying to bite you, which you just kind of have to deal with. you also get direct eye contact with the beast at all times, which is. interesting and unnerving
the only people handling them solo were the vet in charge of weighing the animals, the guy sticking them into the back of a van, and my boss, who stood in the corral chasing groups of them into a smaller pen for catching. every time a pair came to collect their next bird he would open the door to the pen, head in alone, you'd briefly hear the most fucked up cartoon fistfight-esque noises from inside, and about thirty seconds later he would reappear with an entire flamingo tucked casually under one arm like a football and just hand it to you. most baffling part of the entire experience, i think
despite the turbulence however they did make it safely to their new home :)
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