Though vampires can be found in the folklore of virtually every culture in the world, almost all contemporary fiction about them can be traced to two sources: Bram Stoker's 1892 novel Dracula and its the 1931 film adaptation starring Bela Lugosi. Count Dracula may be Bram Stoker's most famous creation, but the dignified version played by Lugosi in 1931 hardly resembles Stoker's description of the Count in the novel, which includes pointed ears, sharpened teeth, and a long white mustache. And though the book is more than 300 pages long, Dracula hardly appears in it.
In fact, in the long scope of vampire fiction, the most important character in Dracula isn't Dracula; it's Lucy Westenra, a beautiful 19-year-old deciding between three marriage proposals at the start of the novel. "Why can't they let a girl marry three men, or as many as want her, and save all this trouble?" she says in a letter to her chaste friend Mina. But before the novel's end, Stoker ensures that she violently pays for even flirting with the idea of being with multiple men. Lucy becomes Dracula's victim and eventually an undead monster in her own right, until she's staked in the heart and beheaded by her three former suitors, who stuff her mouth full of garlic to ensure that she stays dead. The moral is less than subtle.
Dracula may be forceful in its message of chastity, but it's far from the only piece of vampire lore to crash against the boundaries of human sexuality. Sheridan Le Fanu's short story "Carmilla," which was published 25 years before Dracula, uses vampires as a stand-in for lesbianism, and, unfortunately, gives its title character an equally violent death. Interview With the Vampire novelist Anne Rice wrote numerous books about bisexual vampires in the 1970s. Even 1992 film Bram Stoker's Dracula—which is, ironically enough, itself an enormously unfaithful adaptation of Bram Stoker's Dracula—pushes the story's sexual boundaries to its limits, as Dracula rapes Lucy and romances Mina. Today, TV series like True Blood and The Vampire Diaries have built seasons of television by making vampires explicitly sexual.
And then there are Stephenie Meyer's Twilight novels, which—much like its lead character, Bella Swan—are most defined by their own lack of definition. Meyer didn't invent noble, seductive vampires; Anne Rice had been writing about them for decades. She didn't invent high-school vampires; Buffy the Vampire Slayer cornered that market in the '90s. She didn't even invent the rivalry between vampires and werewolves; the Kate Beckinsale-starring Underworld, which spawned an entire franchise based on that premise, came out two years before the first Twilight book was published. So what separates Twilight from the pack? Unlike virtually every writer since Bram Stoker, Meyer's innovation was to use the vampire not to push the limits of human sexuality, but to scale them back. By defanging the vampire, she shifted its target demographic to teenage girls—one of the most commonly neglected but lucrative audiences in entertainment.