Spain, the Second World War, and the Holocaust: History and Representation. Edited by Sara J. Brenneis and Gina Herrmann. Toronto: University of Toronto Press, 2020. Pp. 736. $125 (hardback). ISBN 9781487505707

features, for example in Jos e de la Rosa’s Vampiro, where it is unclear whether Sibila is happy to have achieved the undead status she sought or whether her lot is miserable survival as a “tortured unquiet soul” (123). The interesting possibility of both supernatural and realist readings is also considered in the case of Tamparillas’s “Sangre de mi sangre, carne de mi carne” that foregrounds the tensi on between the two (130). While the plot summaries and analyses of Part 1 are necessary, since many readers will be unfamiliar with the subject matter, the structure has some disadvantages: most readers will need to refer back to Part 1 from Part 2 to remind themselves of what is going on in the text under discussion; and some repetition is inevitable. The comparative approach adopted in Part 2 is anticipated to some extent in Part 1, where there is a clear effort to forge links both among the texts treated (39, 90), and with those of other writers such as Ira Levin (88) and Melville (99). There are some efforts, too, to link the events recounted with the contemporary world: that Erzsebet B athory’s wealth allows her to perpetuate her crimes is linked to the prosecution of celebrities on historical sex-related charges (107). The style is occasionally marred by errors (“subsequently discovering his infidelity to her, her jealousy leads her to destroy him,” 55), and inelegance: (“where the vampires have moved on to, to try to rid the world of them,” 144). However, this monograph is the result of solid and painstaking research and is likely to achieve seminal status in its field.