I just finished reading an Ann Rice novel. I’m not sure why I do this periodically. Well, yes, I do. I like some of her work. She’s exquisitely good at painting a vivid picture of periods in history, and I’m quite captivated by that sometimes.

I liked Cry to Heaven, although I could have done without the graphic sex scenes which weren’t, in my opinion, very sexy anyway, and the story sagged in the middle very badly.

I also liked Servant of the Bones very much, although there was a “loose end” that bothered me and which was never tied up and explained.

I might like the Mayfair Witches stories, because they’re not about vampires. In fact, the book I just finished was about a Mayfair, but it wasn’t “the Mayfairs”. I didn’t realize that it was actually pretty much a vampire story. I’m going to say it right now, I really don’t much care for Ann’s vampires (yeah, I know, a million Ann Rice fans are going to descend upon me in a fury, but we like what we like, what can I say?).

Partly, the very idea of being trapped on this earth in an immortal body, unable to leave… that’s pretty horrible to me. The idea of immortality on earth is just… Well, let’s just say that I cherish my mortality, and I’m glad to know that someday, eventually, I’ll die. It’s probably kind of weird, but that’s how I feel about it. I’m not suicidal or anything, but the sure knowledge that eventually I will, absolutely, die, is comforting on a lot of levels.

Partly, the eroticism of drinking blood is… okay, I’m not sure if she intends it to be erotic, but I’m pretty sure she does, and if so, that’s just weird. I can see it as a metaphor for loving someone “to death”, but… I dunno. Vampires, even ones who only kill evildoers, well, that just seems pretty unappealing to me.

Anyway, the book I just read was Merrick, which, for the most part, I did enjoy. The voodoo elements were fascinating, and, as usual, the portrait the author paints of New Orleans is enticing, as are some of the descriptions she gives of other locations in the book. I can’t say I was thrilled to listen to Louis being morose (as usual) or Lestat being… well, Lestat… but overall the book was all right. I kind of read them in spite of the many parts I really don’t like that much, because the strength of the author’s descriptions make it worth it for me.

So, well, if you’re an Ann Rice fan who adores Lestat et al, I do apologize if I’ve offended your sensibilities. I don’t hate Ann’s books (I wouldn’t have read more than two if that were the case), but I always come away from reading them with a sort of less-than-satisfied feeling, which is certainly subjective. I DO wish she’d write more stuff along the lines of Servant of the Bones or Memnoch the Devil (which I liked in spite of Lestat and in spite of the rather icky menstrual thing toward the end, ugh).

I think I really will have to investigate the books that deal specifically with Aaron and the Mayfair Witches. I suspect I’d like them more than the vampire ones…

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