Well.
One part of me says ‘What in the seven hells was that?’
Another part hums and ponders and thinks lengthily on all the spiritual allegory tucked away in this emotionally manipulative mess…
The critic in me touts the overall concept, goes ‘meh’ on the writing, but appreciates the atmospheric vibe throughout.

So. Yes: Atmospheric.

I see the talent this woman had in creating an eerie, creepy, blood-curdling setting. It seems she lost her touch in later years, but this first of her lifelong series was certainly worthy of the accolades it received in its generation. 1977 people. Groundbreaking, when you think of the absolute gush of cultish vampire lit that has followed…

It seems many modern vampire-genre writers, since the time of Anne Rice, have used her Interview as a platform for writing their own broody, moody, semi-relatable, more-human-than-devil creations with whom we, the reader, are meant to empathise. She gave us a way in to souls and minds and hearts that previously were all shielded darkness; she opened the door to connect with the emotion and experience of the vampires. That was unique. If you read this now, you have to read it as written in its time, before the commercialised romanticising of sexy young vampires.

But anyways, despite not being the first, Bram Stoker is still the big cheese among those who wrote of the blood-drinkers. In comparison, in recent years, since Rice’s novel, only Dacre Stoker in his novel Dracul, and Elizabeth Kostova in her novel The Historian, have managed to replicate Bram Stoker’s tangible atmospheric sense of creeping terror. I’m not sure other authors have been as or near as successful.

Babette screams ‘Get thee behind me, Satan’ — and yes, this is the feeling that permeates the story of Louis and the vampires; people are terrified of these un-men who occupy bodies but have seared souls and thrive by taking the lives of others…and usually, in the genre, that’s our disconnected feeling, it’s the fear we’re used to having with vampires—but thanks to Rice, Mick Jagger’s words have been taken at face value, we consider Mikhail Bulgakov’s Devil in The Master and Margarita with empathy, and we contemplate the act of Faust with considerable thought…but no. No…

A note on the interpretations of the ‘pedo’ bits: The dilemma of Claudia is icky. Makes one see why even these devils forbade the ‘turning’ of children… she is a mature and sensual and vain woman—stuck in the body of a small child, and this, combined with other disagreeable life experiences, make her a vile sharp-tongued bitter ‘child’ who swells and reaches with the desires of a many-times scorned and still yearning woman. Clearly, an awful dilemma.

Philosophical questions about, but the most pertinent are: would we prefer Death or Eternity? Does anyone wish for Immortality? or would we wish an end to the misery life has inflicted? And what interpretation of eternal life is this?—no; this is eternal damnation…As with Stoker’s work, this puts forth these and other intense spiritual questions even Jonathan Harker grappled with. But here we gain the perspective of the mind of the conflicted vampire, our narrator, who is appalled by the sinful blood orgy, fiercely denying his desire to satisfy his inner thirst and join in... and this is his lingering humanity—something Dracula never gave us. Louis draws us into the battle of his flesh and blood, his theological turmoil, his philosophical conflict—all the darkest parts. And the hope of the author is that we all can somehow relate…can we…?

I see how this was an important work in her own spiritual journey…

(Also: That they eat rats makes vampires almost desirable and I’d like to say more cities should have rat-eaters hanging about to keep the streets clear of the danger of plagues and diseases. It’s an appealing idea. As as long as they don’t kill us when they grow tired of the rats.)