Armor may not be the best piece of science fiction around, but at least that effort from Mr. Steakley is worth the paper its printed on. Vampires, the other of Steakley's famous works, is a repugnant accumulation of violence and despair that, for me, has no redeeming value.
The inspiration for the John Carpenter film of the same name, this tour de ugliness plunges the reader into a world darkened by vicious vampires which have swept across the world. Standing against the supernatural tide is Vampire INC., an Catholic-funded organization of mercenary cells which can be hired by local communities to exterminate the dangerous leeches. It's a decent premise for a vampire novel, perhaps even for a film, but Mr. Steakley's utter inability to infuse a shred of redeeming virtue in any of his characters dooms the tale. Which is well enough given that Vampires barely has a plot, unless one defines plot as overwrought dialogue squeezed between episodes of slaughter and nihilism.
The vampire as a concept, as a creature, is a wonderful way to explore the dark side of human nature. It is the manifestation of a truth that often rides just beneath the surface of human interaction, that humans feed off of one another on a daily basis, that some of use and exploit our fellows, while others give and heal. Mr. Steakley decides to ignore any notion of nuance, instead creating a paean to blood and death which gives the genre a bad name. (1/5 Stars)
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