Part of life seems to be about retracing the steps you have taken. Having finished Interview with the Vampire, I carried on to The Vampire Lestat by Anne Rice. I have read neither book previously, but I did read Servant of the Bones when I was 13 or 14.
So to me, this is a form of revisiting.
For the time devoted to these books, I do sometimes feel like perhaps I should read something a little more contemporary?
And yet, it feels nice to put your time into something that, while older, is classic. It’s a conscious choice. A bit like conscious uncoupling. Where you embark on something that makes you yearn for something better, but that guilty pleasure remains. Because, you know, this is what you decided.
And so I trudge through her book, getting slightly annoyed by her whiny characters who are just so narcissistic and self-absorbed. They are actually just romance novels with boy love.