I Am Legend, or How Sexism Survived the Vampire Apocalypse

This is one of those many times when I wouldn't recommend seeing the movie before reading the book, because the movie was quite a lot better I thought. Although, they're not really comparable because they diverge drastically plot-wise. So let's not even compare them then. I take it all back.

Robert Neville is the last human left. He's pretty sure. During the day, he goes out for supplies, replaces the damaged planks over his windows, hangs fresh garlic around the outside of the house . . . and stakes his neighbors through the heart while they sleep.

A sickness has swept through the population, turning everyone, one by one, into vampires. So every evening, Neville locks himself inside his house, pours himself a whiskey and soda, and turns up the classical music to drown out the sounds of the bloodthirsty crowd assembling outside his door. 

I had to remind myself a couple of times that this story was written in 1954. Because . . . well, let me just share with you what I scribbled in my notebook after reading the first 20 pages.

"What I know so far about Robert Neville: He is a man. He can use tools. He doesn't like to clean. He is controlling his sexual urges with difficulty. He is a man."

I picture a slightly disheveled Jon Hamm. Oh . . . you want an actual picture? WELL I WON'T GIVE YOU ONE. (Just kidding.)

The last rakishly handsome chauvinist on earth.

But the book does get a little better, despite Neville's stereotypical macho-man characteristics and the general subjugation of women lady vampires. We get some back story on Neville. We find out that he's just an ordinary guy, not equipped with any special knowledge to make him particularly suited for surviving the near extinction of the human race. In fact, he's often infuriatingly dense.

"Something had killed the vampire; something brutally effective. The heart had not been touched, no garlic had been present, and yet . . .
It came, seemingly, without effort. Of course---the daylight!
A bolt of self-accusation struck him. To know for five months that they remained indoors by day and never once to make the connection! He closed his eyes, appalled by his own stupidity." (p. 38)

Nosferatu is also appalled by your stupidity.

Coping with isolation is the dominant theme for most of the story. And then it kind of morphs into a powerful commentary on "otherness" . . . and how the ruling majority can become the ruled minority practically overnight.

So what have we learned? Always read the book before the movie. And, yep, I think that's pretty much it.