My rating: 3 of 5 stars
Anne Rice’s vampire chronicles made me love reading books. I mean, it didn’t exactly start there. I can go back further in my childhood to other books, but as a “young adult” in my late teens, this series nailed it for me. I was captivated. They stayed with me and I thought about them for DAYS, weeks even. In retrospect, it was probably my first experience of “book depression.” I wanted Lestat to turn me into a vampire. I think he was my first book boyfriend.
This is my first re-read since the 90s, I think, and it didn’t hold up as well as I’d hoped. Louis is a dreadful vampire. He has as much self-loathing as Bill Compton from the Sookie Stackhouse series. Sheesh. I found it dreadful to read from his POV. He hated being a vampire and was so melodramatic. I like to read about unapologetic vampires who thrive and are confident and kick-ass. This is NOT that kind of story.
It does read like a “new” classic with lots of literary phrases and descriptions. It’s well-written as a historical novel about an earlier Louisiana and France in the 1800s. It has a certain appeal. But I think that Louis is insufferable as a leading man. Claudia shines with what she is given. Lestat is sort of a villainous caricature here (readers know he is fleshed out in future books and becomes much more complex than any of the vampires in this series, for better or worse).
I am not sure I will read this one again because it’s just … kind of boring to me now. Maybe I’ve outgrown it? I think I like a little more bite in my vampire books now.