Where are we in the book, now?
IT WAS FRIDAY.
Right. We're about to rip off Stan Lee.
Which is a little like stealing candy from an infant, but it's obvious Anne Rice doesn't care.
Ruben is now aware that a whole bussload of students has been kidnapped. Because, you know, just one kid being abducted is too common for our Sunshine Boy to in vestigate. Oh, No. The agony of the kidnapped child must be multiplied across many families for this to be worthy of Ruben's time.
He had the news blaring from the radio all the way. All that was known was that the entire student body of forty-two students, aged five years old through eleven, and three teachers had vanished without a trace. A sack containing the teacher’s cell phones and a couple of phones that had belonged to the students had been found at a call box on Highway One, with a printed note: “Wait For Our Call.”
Did they add a pink bow? They really should have added a pink bow. I mean, this is obviously "Generic kidnappers R us," so they ought to have a Douglas Adams special here...
Oh, and the kidnappers were careful. No public school scum for them. No. This was a private school. So we can all sympathize with the kidnapping victims. Because we all went to private school
(...FYI I did go to private school for one year. It was the most miserable year of my life)
(My sympathies are with the kidnappers, is what I'm saying. I'm sure after the fifth hour of Veggie Tales Silly Songs with Larry, they're willing to give the kids back.)
(Welcome to my child. AKA The Ransom of Red Cheif)
Oh, and we are assured that the teachers are, and I quote "Earth mothers" and the children are the best kids in the universe (I was on the basketball team for my private school. Because I was tall, and because there were a grand total of three girls in the seventh and eighth grades, and I was the difference between having a full girl's team, and having to stick with the co-ed division, which sadly existed in the North Texas Rabidly Christian Private School universe. One of my teammates spent the entire drive between Stephenville TX and Abilene singing Silly Songs with Larry. MY SYMPATHIES ARE WITH THE KIDNAPPERS.
(imagine. Three straight hours of THAT. Verbatum. Also: WHO GAVE CGI TO CHRISTIAN CONSERVATIVES IN THE 90s? AND CAN WE TRY THEM FOR CRUEL AND UNUSUAL WHATSIS?)
Also: We are assured that the private school of 42 students had their own very special bus made special. Just for them.
My private school went on a feild trip once, from Stephenville to Austin. Those of you unfamiliar with TX might assume this is simple. This is a five hour drive that began at five AM, comprising the entire seventh and eighth-grade classes. About ten students in all. We drove in the teacher's little volvo and my father's much more spacious suburban. This was back in 98. I remember the boys got stir crazy first, and began issuing chinese fire drills at every single fucking stoplight once we hit Austin city limits. The girls mantained their sanity until about two PM, when we were on our way back (having toured the governors mansion back when Dubbaua was the TX state governor, and the capitol building) and they purchased a set of wax bottles of sugar, which they somehow managed to spill on every concievable surface during the process of consumption. I also remember my dad having to beg the girls not to hang pieces of paper towel and/or t-shirts out the window, becuase this signaled to police that we had a medical emergancy onboard, and we didn't have a medical emergency onboard, just teenaged girls with WAY TOO MUCH SUGAR.
I SYMPATHIZE WITH THE KIDNAPPERS, IS WHAT I AM SAYING.
Oh, but we are assured that Rubans Thumbs are on the case. They are on the case with his iPhone.
Reuben’s thumbs were going as he typed on his iPhone, describing the picturesque three-story building, surrounded by venerable oaks, and masses of wildflowers, including poppies, and marguerites and azaleas blooming on the shady grounds.Our grounds had tulips. Dying tulips, because whoever got assigned the landscaping didn't understand that Texas, even North Texas, doesn't have a winter. We also had poppies, but those grew along the railroad tracks we weren't supposed to walk beside.
Ruben goes to the school. A random photographer asks him for advice. NOTE TO WOULD BE PHOTOGRAPHERS: DO NOT ASK OTHER PEOPLE FOR ADVICE, BECAUSE THIS IS WHAT YOU GET:
“Get the whole scene,” said Reuben a little impatiently. “Get the sheriff up there on the porch; get the feel of the school itself."NO, REALLY? AND WHAT DOES THIS ACCOMPLISH?
And then Ruben is struck with AINGST, my loyal blog-readers. AINGST. BECAUSE MAYBE HIS INHERITING A MULTI-MILLION DOLLAR MANSION IS GOING TO DRAW HIM AWAY FROM HIS JOB AS A WONDERFUL REPORTER AT THE RIPE OLD AGE OF TWENTY THREE.
HAVE I MENTIONED YET THAT THE AUTHOR IS SEVENTY?
And then we get a blow-by-blow account of Ruben's life after he goes home. Because, you know, that crime scene full of weeping parents, that's totally boring.
This happens:
An extraordinary restlessness came over him. He got up, paced, went back to bed. He was lonely, hideously lonely. He hadn’t really been with Celeste since before the massacre. He didn’t want to be with Celeste now. He kept thinking that if he was with Celeste, he’d hurt her, bruise her somehow, run roughshod over her feelings. Wasn’t he doing that these days without their putting it to the bedroom test?
It goes on to a fantasy about Marchant. Because a kidnapping involving innocent children is all about you and your infidelity.
And now we get Ruben's first transformation. And instead of it being a malstrom of pain IE An American Werewolf in London, it is, of course, a transcendant experiance of which ONLY RUBEN COULD BE WORTHY.
Gag me.
Every particle of his body was defined in these waves, the skin covering his face, his head, his hands, the muscles of his arms and legs. With every particle of himself he was breathing, breathing as he’d never breathed in his life, his whole being expanding, hardening, growing stronger and stronger by the second.I'm not kidding. Please. Gag me with a spork.
\
We also get random, unattributed dialogue!
“Oh, but you knew, didn’t you? Didn’t you know this was inside of you, bursting to come out? You knew!”
RUBEN. WHO ARE YOU TALKING TO?!?
AND OF COURSE, his transformation has something to do with Marchant. Because OF COURSE IT DOES.
And then he is fully transformed in a truely orgasmic way, and...you know, I was kidding about the Spiderman references. Really. Rice didn't have to actually employ them:
From one house to another he sped, going lower and lower as he made his way down towards the traffic and noise of North Beach, flying so fast now that he scarce touched down on the smaller slopes, his clawed hands flying out to grasp whatever he needed to hoist his easy weight and send him flying over the next street or alleyway.
Tell me you do not see Toby McGuire swinging between the rooftops here.
He sees a random rape victim and rescues her. No big. To him, anyway. I mean, she's going to be scarred for life, but Ruben gets to rescue her so it is all okay.
I mean, he only rips the rapist's throat out.
This happens:
A hideous scent rose from the man, if indeed it was a scent. It was as if the man’s intent was a scent, and it maddened Reuben.
RUBEN CAN NOW SCENT EVIL JUST BY SMELLING IT.
Now. How do we treat the rape victim after all this?
The woman stood stark still, her arms crossed over her breasts, staring at him. Feeble, choking sounds came out of her. How utterly miserable and pitiable she was. How unspeakable that anyone would do such evil to her. She was shaking so violently that she could scarce stand, one naked shoulder visible above the torn red silk of her dress.
There are a lot of buzzwords I could use for this, but I'm going to stick with the simpliest and most effective pairing; FUCK YOU RUBEN.
ALSO: PITIABLE. NO. JUST FUCKING NO. GO BACK TO GIRL SCHOOL AND REMEMBER HOW TO GIRL, ANNE. RAPE VICTIMS SHOULD NOT BE PITIABLE. THEY SHOULD BE SOMETHING THAT INSPIRES WROTHFUL VENGENCE. NOT PITY.
And of course the rape victim rejects Ruben's attempt at comfort, mostly because it involved him ripping her rapist's throat out. Of course Ruben, in all his perfection, will be misunderstood. Of course he will.
I am now invisioning a werewolf in Roschach's clothing, rambling about how the Comedian is dead. Which is probably the wrong reference but if you want to invoke comic book orgin stories, Watchmen is one of the better ones. Aside from the whole "Rape saved the entire world" theme.
Ruben then teleports back to his bedroom.
I am not making that up.
And then he sees himself in the mirror. And he reacts with perfectly natural horror and--yeah, I'm not fooling any of you, am I?
“So this was the manner of beast that saved me in Marchent’s house, was it?” He laughed again that low, irresistible rolling laughter. Of course. “And you bit me, you devil. And I didn’t die from the bite and now it’s happened to me.” He wanted to laugh out loud. He wanted to roar with laughter.
There isn't enough "Fuck you" In the world.
Seriously. This is his first transformation. It really shouldn't make me want to dip the bastard in acid.
And just when you think it can't get any better, this happens:
He wanted to cover his face with his hands. But he didn’t have hands. Instead, he held up the iPhone and clicked a picture of himself. And again and again.
Yes. My beloved Blog-Readers. Ruben's first impulse when he discovers he is a werewolf is to use his iPhone to take a selfie.
There is only one comment worthy of this beautific moment:
Ruben considers using his powers to go conquer evil...but he decides he's better off getting a drink of water first.
OUR HERO.
And then he passes out, changes back, and checks his iPhone for his selfies, which naturally reveal the manwolf looking back at him. Because I guess Stephenie Meyer ruined werewolf for Ms. Rice, and we have to use a word paring less passe.
And then we get the natural freak out of "OH MY GOD I AM A WEREWOLF."
Only those words are never used.
And of course he justifies the fact that his first act as a werewolf was killing a man by the fact that the man was a rapist.
Okay, you got a point, but you still killed a dude in less than twelve hours of being a full blown wolf. Please. Spare me the attempt at morality.
And then we get Marchant transcendant, because of course the life of a backally rape victim cannot compare to the glories of a rich white woman who happened to leave our protagonist her house.
Can this chapter end now? Please?
And then this happens:
No one must know because not a single person in this world could be trusted not to incarcerate the thing he’d become, and he had to know infinitely more about what had happened and whether it would happen again and when and how. This was his journey! His darkness.
It's a little premature to say "trees died for this" but folks? TREES DIED FOR THIS. LOTS. AND LOTS. OF TREES.
FINALLY Ruben's dad makes him stop admiring himself in the mirror because his job is calling him and SOMEBODY in this book needs to act like a frickin' adult.
Yeah. Trees died for this shit.
I hope you were drunk when you read this.
ReplyDeleteI was. It didn't help.
DeleteIn 1997, I went on our Senior Trip to Washington DC from northwestern Pennsylvania, which is about an eight hour bus ride. One of my fellow students brought a boombox, but the only CD's anyone had were a single (remember those?) of Sweet Home Alabama and the Spice Girls' first album. So they just played those, over and over and over and over again for the entire trip.
ReplyDeleteDante ain't got nothing on that.
I could maybe have done eight hours of Sweet Home Alabama, but I would probably have started chewing my own arm off after the second song on that album.
ReplyDeleteYou have my sympathies.
I was so completely confused when he started talking to himself.
ReplyDeleteI also honestly really HATE that the first thing he does is kill a rapist. It means he gets to do the super-cool killing shit and get the cool angst from that, but not REALLY be in the wrong because of course it was totally justified and the, it is later found out, was not just a rapist but a serial rapist so Reuben is totally a hero, readers! I just…ugh.
Also, women in Anne Rice’s books do tend to be like Marchent, the rape victim, etc from what I’ve read of her---basically, blandly-sweet objects to fuel the stories and angsts of men. Probably the deepest character in her own right was Claudia, but after her death her memory just basically turned into this.
I thought Akasha the vampire Queen at least had a personality. If I remember what I read of the other books...Mekare was a blank slate, Maharet existed to tell her story and be mommy to her many many many descendants...and uh, yeah, that's all I can remember, save for the chick/narrator's self insert from Queen of the Damned that turned into Lestat's door prize at the end of the book.
ReplyDeleteIn other words...yep, you're right.
Also...didn't Claudia not...turn back up in the narrative until after Queen of the Damned? AKA After Rice jettisoned her "no" people?
I really haven't read after Queen of the Damned. I've only just started Interview, actually, but someone who has read almost all of them says Claudia just sort of haunts Louis and Lestat pointlessly. And yes, Claudia and Akasha are actually my favorites! I love them both so much ;-;
DeleteI started Blood & Gold but had to stop when Marius described Botticelli angels as having "the alluring sensuality that only very young boys and girls posses" and NOT having it be treated as a sign that he's a product of creepy Roman culture or just a creep himself or what have you. I nearly stopped Interview when Louis said "It [Claudia's voice] was sensual. She was sensual." not even five minutes after she became a vampire (versus, say, when she was a 30+ woman in a child body) but I'm sticking it out because I loved movie Claudia so much and I love baby vampires in general (no clue what it is--I can't stand real kids, but I love monster children like in Alien: Resurrection and Splice)
It's really bad in Servant of the Bones. There are a total of three important female characters in that book: Asenath, Esther, and Rachel. None of them has an iota of actual personality in them.
Asenath is the witch that makes Azriel a ghost/genie. She is an evil ugly old witch who dies immediately after doing this.
Azriel comes upon Esther just as she is killed by hired thugs. Her dying words are his name even though she has never met him before and knows nothing of him, and this prompts the entire ‘plot’ of him finding out why she was killed and saving the world. Esther never truly has a personality or a voice, he just goes on about what a sweet submissive humble beautiful girl she was repeatedly and how sweet and how humble and how good and how sweet and how pretty. Because he just knows, I guess.
Rachel is Esther’s mom, who is really pretty with gray-streaked hair…I suspected she might be a self-insert for Rice, as I also suspect Marchent and Laura, another sexy older graying blonde woman that Reuben will bang later, to be. Sexy older ladies didn’t feature like this until Anne herself started getting up there in years. And that would be fine, power to them I say, but again, the focus isn’t on them at all. Anyway, Rachel’s whole thing is that she’s dying too of some illness and/or poison and/or both, and her main concern is…banging Azriel, which she does before committing suicide. Since I guess that’s really all her relevance to the plot was. She’s lacking in depth too, and, like Esther, is just another sweet fallen flower for him to moan about.
The harping on Marchant is probably going to devolve into that, then.
DeleteWhich sucks because survivor guilt is a real thing that people have to deal with, and a book where survivor guilt is handled well would be awesome. But no. It's that Marchant was beautiful and perfect, and not that he lived and she died and he doesn't understand how that would be fair.
I'm now really glad I can't stand Rice's basic prose long enough to get into her books.