the first one hundred pages of this are pure unfettered pedophile slop. sorry not sorry! i wonder if this is what some people who haven't read lolita think lolita is. unfortunately it really feels like it's the part of the book that Rice put the most effort in.
part two combines in itself retellings of and refences to events from The Vampire Lestat and Memnoch The Devil, and it tells you that in about as direct of a manner as i just did. admittedly, this is my first Vampire Chronicles book (i'm a fan of Armand in the show...), so maybe if i'd read the five previous books i'd be more used to the way Rice uses the interview/chronicling framing device in the series, even if it is plain cheesy, but i have to say i'm not used to it now. some paragraphs in that part feel especially first draft-y and like they don't offer much to the narrative or our understanding of Armand's character.
part three is the most interesting: we see Armand in a really vulnerable state, and we see him connect with mortals in a way that to my knowledge seems special for the series. (convincing your fledgling to cut ties with the mortal world is, after all, a key part of the vampiric abuse playbook...) sadly, it feels very brief, and Armand's relationships with Sybelle and Benji are not fleshed out at all. but sure, we needed to know in detail how Marius kissed Armand's body before sucking him off in a bathtub. before Armand was old enough to ejaculate. or how he jerks him off the time he does ejaculate for the first time. or how he whips his legs until he bleeds (which Armand notably stops enjoying because it gets too rough) because he's jealous Armand had sex with some different adult man.
if (when.) i go back and read all the books, do i think i'll eat my words upon rereading The Vampire Armand, having recognised some deep hidden genius inherent to Anne Rice's writing? no. no way. but did this generally unpleasant reading experience completely deter me from her twisted vampire visions? well, i guess not.
the book to recommend to anyone with even an ounce of respect for Freud and his works. ends with the perfect analysis of Franz Kafka's life and work that i have been searching for ever since i first read in the penal colony in high school. cathartic on a personal level; i feel reassured on matters i can't even articulate yet.