Okay I feel I need to say this.(PSA)

iam-yourqueen:

I do not hate Prince lestat.

Sure, I may not like all of it, but honestly I love all of Anne rices work and could not , with conviction, tell someone not to read it.

So all of you peeps who are afraid to read it or put off because of the fandoms feelings in the book, just ignore all that and work to craft an opinion of your own on the book by bravely reading it yourself.

~T~h~i~s~/

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TL;DR WARNING.

Before I launch into this, the title itself felt like a joke: "Oh gdi Lestat you are so obsessed with your stupid nickname, you hamburger-brained moron" but really he did not coin that phrase, and in fact he resisted it for most of the book. So let’s not blame Lestat for that bit. In fact, it is meant to follow Queen of the Damned in a very big plot point kinda way, and so the title makes perfect sense once you know that plot point.

I finally finished it after picking it up, setting it down, and repeating that procedure a number of times. There were sections that made me lose total interest for weeks. Then I’d grumble and trudge through. I knew some spoilers (bc I had asked for them!), just plot points, but I wanted to experience it as it deserved to be experienced. Even the parts that made me invent a wholly new WTF facial expression. But I laughed more than cried of second-hand embarrassment at those scenes. 

I finally closed that book with the feeling that I opened it with: cautious optimism, and glad for having given it the chance. It’s revived our fandom for sure. I might even reread it soon. Is any of it really canon? Maybe. Not sure. I think some good RP and fanfic will revise some of it, fill in the missing parts, and glue it all together.

Oh, you want more? Well I’ll give you more…

Let me just say that there are several canon/fanon-worthy scenes in this book, that are not to be missed. There’s a lot of good character work with several of the characters (not ALL of them, but hey, it’s something).

There’s an intensity to the last 25% that’s worth the anguish of the parts that lost my interest. You have to slog through to get to that, though. It makes it more worthwhile, a creeping sort of anxiety in the story until that last 25% sweet spot.

There’s also a lot of good exploration of the PTSD in Lestat himself. There are times when it really feels like the Lestat from TVL or even IWTV! His brutality is still there. His gentleness is different now, worn sort of thin by too many people abusing it (*cough cough* Mona! Though she was in the right in several instances back in Blackwood Farm), but still there.

There’s a great, short, powerplay with David. There’s some great mother & son bonding (lol) with Gabrielle. Louis has a sort of change of heart. Armand is so chill you might think he’s being sarcastic. New characters are brought in (this includes old ones that we thought were long gone and are now brought back and dusted off), and lined up, they’ll surely be more developed and have roles in the next installment.

The entire vampire tribe has turned a new corner at the end.

cloudsinvenice:

I need a drink so it’s really unfortunate that I don’t drink. 

The night was rolling to an end. The paparazzi had retreated to their coffins and lairs. I told David he could keep my suite at the hotel as long as he liked, and I had to head home soon.

But not quite yet. We’d been walking in the Grand Couvert of the Tuileries—in tree-shrouded darkness. “I’m thirsting,” I said aloud. At once he suggested where we might hunt.

“No, for your blood,” I said, pushing him backwards against the slender but firm trunk of a tree.

“You damnable brat,” he seethed.

“Oh, yes, despise me, please,” I said as I closed in. I pushed his face to one side, kissing his throat first, and then sinking my fangs very slowly, my tongue ready for those first radiant drops. I think I heard him say the single word, “Caution,” but once the blood struck the roof of my mouth, I wasn’t hearing clearly or seeing clearly and didn’t care.

I had to force myself to pull back. I held a mouthful of blood as long as I could until it seemed to be absorbed without my swallowing, and I let those last ripples of warmth pass through my fingers and toes.

“And you?” I asked. He was slumped there against the tree, obviously dizzy. I went to take him in my arms.

“Get away from me,” he growled. And started off walking, fast away from me. “Stick your filthy droit du seigneur right through your greedy heart.”

But I caught up with him and he didn’t resist when I put my arm around him and we walked on together like that.

“Now, that’s an idea,” I said, kissing him quickly though he stared forward and continued to ignore me. “If I was ‘King of the Vampires,’ I’d make it the right of every maker to drink from his fledgling anytime he chose. Maybe it would be good to be king. Didn’t Mel Brooks say, ‘It’s good to be the king’?”

And then in his droll cultured British voice he said with uncharacteristic brashness, “Kindly shut up.”

[—-]

I had turned to leave him when he took hold of me. His teeth went into the artery before I could think what was happening, and his arms went tight around my chest.

His pull was so strong that I swooned. Seems I turned and put my arms around him, catching his head in my left hand, and struggled with him, but the visions had opened up, and I didn’t know one realm from the other for a moment, and the manicured paths and trees of the Tuileries had become the Savage Garden of all the world. I’d fallen into a divine surrender, with his heart pounding against my heart. There was no restraint in him, no caution such as I’d shown in feeding on him.

I came to myself on the ground, my back to the trunk of a young chestnut tree, and he was gone. And the mild balmy night had turned to a gray winter dawn.

Home I went—to my “undisclosed location,” only minutes away on the currents of the wind, to ponder what I’d learned from my friends because I couldn’t do anything else.

The next night on rising, I caught the scent of David on my jacket, even on my hands.

– Best part of Prince Lestat. Unf unf hot DAMN. (via birdisland)

“You want me gone! You, you whining coward of a vampire who prowls the night killing alley cats and rats and staring for hours at candles as if they were people and standing in the rain like a zombie until your clothes are drenched and you smell like old wardrobe trunks in attics and have the look of a baffled idiot at the zoo.” – Lestat de Lioncourt, Interview with the Vampire