Bibliography V

“Prince Lestat”— Anne Rice

Loved it! But, of course, I love Lestat. The self-proclaimed James Bond of vampires, he is likely more celebrated than Dracula … though he hasn’t had the same amount of screen time. Something to do with copyright law, no doubt. And just as well. What screen versions I’ve seen have fallen far short of my imagination. Some things are better left on the page. One might also suspect the author, in this case, of falling back on her most famous hero to resurrect a flagging career, but I tend to think that the character simply had something more to say. The scribe merely answered the call.

That is, after all, what we writers do.

For the longest time, I revered the way Anne Rice did it, too. Her style was my blueprint. I aspired to write those deeply lush and sensual descriptions myself. I perceived her work as the most meticulously cut-and-polished jewels: richly-hued, multi-faceted, artfully displayed, and absolutely bedazzling to the mind’s eye. I swore to write as well as Anne Rice or die trying.

Imagine my surprise, then, when I began this read in luscious anticipation and discovered myself editing the copy as I went along! Make no mistake: the story is riveting, the possibilities purely believable, the characters drawn in lovingly minute detail, the scenery meticulously described … but the writing itself runs rough, seeming more like an initial draft than a satiny smooth final version. I found myself making mental corrections when I should have been slipping into a world I remember as flawlessly buffed and burnished. I emerged thinking—arrogantly, perhaps?—that I could have done a better job with this absolutely wonderful story!

Which begs the question: which is more important, the story or the telling? Does a good writer make a half-baked story work? Or does a good story make a half-baked writer look competent? I guess either option is true, depending as much on the reader as any plot portent or turn with a phrase. I consider myself—arrogantly, perhaps?—to be a fairly high level reader, which is why I’m resisting the reading assignment from hell (blog post TBD), and because I love wordplay as much as I do a vivid character or an intriguing storyline, I demand a lot from my authors. Chuck Wendig advises all writers to read good books and bad books, one to inspire humility and the other to inspire confidence. Prince Lestat is a damned good story. The writing may even meet today’s appalling standard. It’s just not up to my memory of Anne Rice’s standard, and that makes it a little disappointing.

To assure myself that I have not misremembered her earlier skill, I am revisiting The Tale of the Body Thief, which also happens to be my favourite of the Lestat stories. And, no, I have not misremembered. I am sitting with him at the café, I am laughing out loud at his ongoing angst with Louis, I am seeing the sights and smelling the scents and shivering in the snow with no internal editor to distract me from the magic of the tale. So what gives? Did the author get lazy? Did she become too famous to require an editor? Is the editor intimidated by her fame? A fan will pick up the book no matter what the critics say, which is as it should be, and a fan will make up his/her own mind as to whether or not the money/time was wasted. For myself, it absolutely was not. I learned a lot from this book, even more than the future of the Rice vampires or the fate of their prince. I learned a little more about myself, about my craft, and about how important it is for a writer to keep reading.

Now, about that assignment from hell …