Fangs to fights – fiction to fact

BD8 And Beyond by David Moulds
Grosvenor House Publishing, £9.49

I’m no longer a teenager, I’ve never been a goth and I have zero interest in vampires, so when a book called David Dracula landed on my desk, I’m afraid my heart sank.

“God moves in mysterious ways, and so do I!” says the back cover blurb. “A dark tale of ancient evil and the bloodline of the seed of perdition, the son of the Devil incarnate”, it continues.

I don’t really know what that means, to be honest, but forced myself to read on. It seems Dracula has “bourne a son, a boy who must face his legacy, one of blood, death and the keys to ultimate darkness”.

While I’d rather curl up with the latest Marian Keyes hardback than read about Dracula’s son, I’m aware that ‘vampire-lit’ is massive right now, thanks largely to the hit Twilight books and films.

It’s that blood-thirsty teenage and twentysomething market that Bradford writer Saul Ruthven is aiming at with David Dracula, a melodramatic tale of a suburban boy who discovers he’s not as ordinary as he looks.

It will tick boxes for lovers of the teen vampire genre, and has enough cultural references to give it zeitgeist appeal. Saul’s writing is impressive, particularly when building tension, and he brings depth and poignancy to a tale that, in the wrong hands, could have been very hammy. I could’ve done without the poetry, but the ‘emos’ will probably love them.

Another self-published title to come my way is BD8 And Beyond, a memoir from Girlington writer Dave Moulds. It chronicles his days as a Scooter Club No1, a fan on the Leeds United terraces and a nightclub bouncer for 14 years, when he was “cut twice, bashed with bottles, bats and bar stools and left with bone breakages in double figures”. Caught up in 2,000 clubland conflicts, he underwent major operations and has “stared down the barrel of a gun on two occasions”.

Dave Moulds sounded like a bit of a hard case, but I discovered a likeable character with an endearing writing style. I particularly enjoyed his lively recollection of a 1960s Bradford childhood, schooldays at Lilycroft Juniors, Drummond Road and Rhodesway , Boys Brigade antics, and his progression to the city’s social club scene, the brawls that left him black and blue, and his stint in prison.

“Around 10.30 our would-be escapee smashed a ground floor window and jumped into the snow, a blanket ‘rope’ with a mop bucket handle formed into a hook wrapped around himself. Off he went, through the snow and towards the greenhouses, leaving a trail a six-year-old could follow”... “A few minutes later half a dozen burley screws trudged through the snow, two of them dragging the disgruntled ginger ‘Houdini’. So much for his attempt to reach Doncaster by Christmas. He only managed to get as far as the ‘block’ and solitary confinement!”

With colourful language and graphic violence, it’s not for everyone, but as a witty, gritty slice of Bradford life it’s a cracking read.