The charming esoterica that encroached on the universe where the books as written are objects consumed, and “real” memoirs by the vampires, actually ends up escalating to a silly degree, undermining the gothic noir aesthetic cultivated. It becomes about, basically the fate of the world, rather than moody broody sad boys.

There are some shining moments, such as when the origin of the vampires is revealed, even if that mystery probably would have been fine being obscured forever. Unfortunately the ultimate villain is a bit of a sideshow caricature, who has wild, literal insane ideas that escalate the stakes. It’s not entirely supposed to be sensical, but it shifts the expectations away from the core drama and interest, and also takes a very long time to get to and resolve the cliffhanger events of the second book, where Something is killing vampires and seems to be chasing after Lestat and company. This deflates the tension for more than half of the entire novel, only to attempt to ramp it up with the new threat, which just didn’t feel at all natural.

I found I couldn’t get invested in anything beyond the recounting of the ancient tales, which is really what this series is best at. The modern aspects do come into some play with the Big Bad, but they never feel properly situated, as with the backstories of individuals. And before it’s done any Justice, suddenly it’s all in peril? It just felt rather clumsy and odd.

Frank Muller narrating is amazing though, even if he does mispronounce things from time to time. I guess books on tape, back in the day, probably found it more difficult to edit and check these things. Any time he pronounces the name like Louis instead of Louie, I internally riot. Still, miles above the other samples I’ve tried, if you can find it.