Ultimate horror: farang bloodsucker in Bangkok


Jim Newport’s The Vampire of Siam (Asia Books, Bangkok, 2003, 184pp) is Grand Guignol entertainment about a modern-day vampire amok on the streets of the City of Angels. There only question to ask: “Does it entertain?” It does.


Martin Larue lives lavishly in Bangkok with his girlfriend Daeng on a very well-endowed trust fund:


“It seemed that his only real problem was answering the question: ‘What do you do?’ Travel for travel’s sake wasn’t a satisfactory answer to most who asked. So he had taken his fondness for cinema and his connections at the Bangkok Times to their logical conclusion. He was a ‘film critic’ for the paper’s weekend supplement. This gave him easy access to cushy press passes at obscure film festivals in mountain resorts around the globe. . . That was the plan, and Lord it was working beautifully.”


Until, that is, his editor orders him to accompany Pol Lt Col Boonsong on his nightly rounds for a human interest story. “I have no interest, human or otherwise, in delving into the muck and mire of Bangkok in the back of a police car,” Larue replies haughtily. But then he reconsiders: “After all, his existence had become jaded, and he was in the mood for a new kick.”


Late on his rounds with Col Boonsong, they happen upon the naked corpse of a young Patpong bargirl spread-eagled on a tomb in a Silom cemetery, her face wreathed in ecstasy. A little research in the archives reveals her to be the fourth victim found splayed on that same tomb over a period of 10 years. Larue finds himself on the track of a serial killer.


Having written a 2,000- word expose about the killer and suspected police corruption, Larue hires a German bodyguard named Hans for protection. Then, one night outside his apartment building: “. . . he heard a very strange gurgling sound from Hans. When he turned, he found that Hans was minus his most distinguishing feature – his large German head.”


And there, standing with a serrated knife and Hans’ severed head in his hand is the yellow-eyed Ramonne.


Ramonne Delacroix, born in 1825, was bitten by a vampire in Angkor Wat on Henri Mouhot’s 1860 voyage up the Mekong. He now lives in a crypt under Lumpini Boxing Stadium, venturing forth at night to feed on his victims with impunity as he pays protection money to none other than Col Boonsong.


Larue is quickly under Ramonne’s physical and mental spell. Ramonne whisks him to the Brown Sugar jazz club on Soi Sarasin where, in the company of the vampire, everything is mysteriously transformed: “The music drifted up to the second floor and intoxicated Martin.


The café, which he had frequented on numerous occasions, seemed fresh and new and wonderful. The faux Tiffany lights cast a warm glow, the soft hues of the fabrics adorning the tables blending with the collage of posters on the walls. The food aromas mingled with the perfumes and colognes ... totally and utterly intoxicating. It was a sensuous den of earthly delights and Martin reveled in it.”


Ramonne’s original intention was to drown Larue in Raja Lake, but he relents when his victim reveals that he has a trust fund of 20 million dollars. “Twenty million US?” asks the vampire.


They continue their strange crypto-friendship and Larue hands over chunks of his fortune to Ramonne. Ramonne in turn transports Larue mentally to heights of sensual pleasure. The badinage between them is often entertaining despite the vampire’s mounting atrocities.


That’s as much as I’m going to reveal of the plot. The story is told cleverly enough.


Good for nibbling on the beach.