Before we get into Deborah Harkness’ 2011 novel A Discovery of Witches—and its new TV-series adaptation, set to air on AMC on April 7—allow us to introduce another, nearly forgotten author: Gabrielle-Suzanne Barbot de Villeneuve. She had very little luck in her romantic relationships; she first married a man who burned through an inheritance; when he died, she was just 26 and nearly penniless. She later met a widowed poet and playwright named Prosper Jolyot de Crébillon, who lived in a filthy garret with numerous dogs and cats, and was known for poor hygiene and excessive smoking. Although he and de Villeneuve cohabitated until her death in 1755, they never married.

Mme. de Villeneuve’s experience with such men certainly informed her best-known work: Beauty and the Beast, a story of a woman who falls for a damaged, self-centered, and frankly dangerous monster; her love transforms him into a caring (and, incidentally, strikingly handsome) man. The tale went on to inspire two different Disney films—and it also led to countless romance novels about good women fixing awful men.

This brings us to Harkness’ book, which tells a modern fairy tale about a relationship between a centuries-old, strikingly handsome, and occasionally murderous French vampire and an American historian/witch. Back in 2011, our reviewer called it “Harry Potter meets Lestat de Lioncourt,” and a truer spell was never cast. For example, it turns out the parents of academic Diana Bishop were witches who were killed under mysterious circumstances, and she only truly discovers her own considerable powers—and Chosen One status—later in life. (One keeps waiting for someone to say “Yer a witch, Diana.”) Vamp Matthew Clairmont’s character feels like a mediocre Anne Rice outtake; his perfunctory tragic backstory from the year 536—wife, son, fever—feels particularly warmed-over. They become enmeshed in a power struggle between supernatural beings, mainly vampires and witches, with a vaguely defined third group, “daemons,” off to the side.

The plot initially centers on a magical book about alchemy, which only Diana can access, at the University of Oxford’s Bodleian Library. The story’s opening line is quite the grabber—“The leather-bound volume was nothing remarkable”—and it eventually encompasses rather tiresome lectures on supernatural genetics, of all things, and a lot of descriptions of clothing; suffice it to say, there’s not a lot of action. Mainly, Harkness is concerned with Diana and Matthew’s clumsy flirtation and, later, their discussions of their romance’s ramifications—if they hook up, it could start a war between the various non-humans. That’s capital-F Forbidden.

The first, eight-episode season of the TV series, which initially ran on the U.K.’s Sky One last September, follows the book rather closely; if anything, it pays more attention to the paranormal infighting than the book does, and it dwells less on genetics—or on the two main characters’ attire. Its main focus is the improbable romance, but it never quite sells their mutual infatuation, particularly on his end; why would a charming, vastly experienced vampire even be interested in the rather boring, socially awkward academic Diana—who, as played by Teresa Palmer, is particularly wooden? (Harkness herself is an academic, who, like her protagonist, has an interest in alchemical history. Coincidence?) Actor Matthew Goode does his best with what he’s given, but some of the dialogue makes it hard for him; in the series’ fourth episode, for instance, the vampire eye-rollingly asks Diana, “What spell have you put on me?”

Early chapters/episodes highlight Matthew’s troubling stalking behavior; there are also several comparisons of him to a wolf, and mentions of him smelling Diana’s scent. Later, he resists his overpowering attraction to her because he’s afraid that he might lose control and kill her—as vampires do. However, this clear and present danger doesn’t cool Diana’s ardor at all—if anything, it heightens it. There’s nothing hotter, apparently, than a boyfriend who could just possibly murder you. And love can apparently fix any character flaw. Tale as old as time, song as old as rhyme: Prob-lem-a-tic Beast.

David Rapp is the senior Indie editor. Images courtesy of Sundance Now.