If you’d told me Nolan’s Hunger was a paranormal romance, I would have thought twice before picking it up.

It’s my own fault. Bingeing the entire Twilight film series over a couple of weeks left me with a warped impression of what paranormal romance means these days. Never mind that it once meant Anne Rice’s Vampire Chronicles with intense reflective moments about love and the human condition. No – sparkling vampires put a new shine on modern nosferatu that I’ve only just started recovering from.

But this gem of a novella isn’t even labelled a paranormal romance, despite the strong “marriage story” thread and the obvious vampirism. It’s labelled a horror, though I personally found it rather lovely. Aside from all the blood and murder, I mean.

Beyond the surface elements of oops, my partner is a vampire now lies an exploration of a long-term relationship’s defining test of commitment. Blood-starved Nolan and his doting partner Parker are forced to confront their deepest fears about who they are and who they might become. It’s the point where many relationships may buckle, either breaking entirely or carrying on like ghost ships on haunted waters.

That’s what struck me about this book. That it so unassumingly used horror and the paranormal to venture into uncomfortable relationship territory, centered on the frustration and desperation of wondering whether your love really is worth enduring.

My taxonomer tendency wants to call this book a horror romance, or a romantic horror, or a dark love story, because you could easily read more into the ending to throw a more sinister shade.

But I also want to call this a paranormal vampire romance. Just not the kind you’d imagine in a post-sparkle society.

No, Nolan’s Hunger, I felt, was altogether something special.