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squid_vicious 's review for:
Witching Hour
by Anne Rice
Here goes another teenage favorite that I just had to revisit, just to see how my tastes have evolved over time… Why do I do this to myself?!
This book is a hot mess. Perhaps that’s why I loved it so much when I was sixteen. Now, I really see it as a multi-generational, historical soap opera, with weird (not always coherent) occult elements, and lots of (often weird) sex. That is not a bad thing: a good, juicy, trashy read is fun every once in a while.
This complicated, massive novel is the story of the Mayfair family: for thirteen generations, they have been protected and manipulated by a strange spirit familiar named Lasher, who has made them wealthy and powerful, but has also driven many of them to madness. This strange and seductive entity has his own endgame, and he serves the Mayfair dynasty because he wants them to eventually give birth to a witch powerful enough to give him a physical body. That witch is Dr. Rowan Mayfair, a neurosurgeon with terrifying telekinetic powers. After learning all about her family history with the help of the Talamasca (a secret order that studies paranormal phenomenon), she decides to move back to the family house in New Orleans with Michael Curry – a man who acquired strange powers following a near-death experience - with the intent of making it their home and outwitting Lasher and freeing the Mayfairs from his influence. Obviously, things don’t work out quite as Rowan had planned…
The historical research Anne Rice did to turn her Mayfair saga into this intimidating door-stopper is very impressive. The way the Talamasca’s file on the Mayfair Witches is integrated into the narrative was wonderful, as you discover all this massive saga along with Michael: the descriptions of Renaissance Amsterdam, the Saint-Domingue plantation and the New Orleans of the early twentieth century are so vivid that it is difficult to put the book down. I could picture the streets, houses, clothes and everything absolutely perfectly. That being said, the characterization features a lot of clichés, which is something I have apparently lost all patience for. The weird personality hiccup that hits Rowan in the final section is honestly infuriating. After everything she has gone through, she just suddenly decides to do the exact opposite of her plan? What? Pfff! And if Michael Curry is not some sort of stereotypical middle-aged women fantasy-fulfillment, I don’t know what is: he is so sweet, so caring, so sensitive, so appreciative of baroque music, architecture and Dickens… but he looks like a hunky Irish fireman. Again: what?! The interesting and more complicated characters get very little space to bloom (having read the sequel, I know Mary Beth and Julien get a lot more page time later on, but still...), and the “witches” themselves are all variants on a theme: beautiful, ruthless and sexually insatiable. Oh, except the “weak ones”, whom everyone just hates. Sigh.
The writing is gorgeous and lush, in that Southern Gothic way, and Rice certainly knows how to create creepy atmospheres. But at the same time, some elements of this book are pure shlock. The thirteen witches, the incest, the doctor who can kill people with her mind, the family secrets everyone knows about but won’t speak of: it’s all so over the top that you’d expect the book to be sponsored by Hammer Horror movies. Let’s be clear: I love Hammer Horror-type stories, but the camp factor is what keeps a book like this from being a really great novel and keeps it firmly in the trashy-fun section of my library. The pacing didn’t bother me, but I can see how this would not be everyone’s cup of tea: there are bucket-loads of exposition and backstory to go through before actual stuff happens. While it can be a challenge to keep all the information straight (but same could be said of “Vampire Lestat” and other Rice novels where she uses the stories-within-the-main-story trope) it is still very readable and intriguing.
Pick it up for you are looking for a gloriously trashy work of historical and occult fiction; just don’t go in expecting it to be much more than a creepy, very well-written soap opera.
This book is a hot mess. Perhaps that’s why I loved it so much when I was sixteen. Now, I really see it as a multi-generational, historical soap opera, with weird (not always coherent) occult elements, and lots of (often weird) sex. That is not a bad thing: a good, juicy, trashy read is fun every once in a while.
This complicated, massive novel is the story of the Mayfair family: for thirteen generations, they have been protected and manipulated by a strange spirit familiar named Lasher, who has made them wealthy and powerful, but has also driven many of them to madness. This strange and seductive entity has his own endgame, and he serves the Mayfair dynasty because he wants them to eventually give birth to a witch powerful enough to give him a physical body. That witch is Dr. Rowan Mayfair, a neurosurgeon with terrifying telekinetic powers. After learning all about her family history with the help of the Talamasca (a secret order that studies paranormal phenomenon), she decides to move back to the family house in New Orleans with Michael Curry – a man who acquired strange powers following a near-death experience - with the intent of making it their home and outwitting Lasher and freeing the Mayfairs from his influence. Obviously, things don’t work out quite as Rowan had planned…
The historical research Anne Rice did to turn her Mayfair saga into this intimidating door-stopper is very impressive. The way the Talamasca’s file on the Mayfair Witches is integrated into the narrative was wonderful, as you discover all this massive saga along with Michael: the descriptions of Renaissance Amsterdam, the Saint-Domingue plantation and the New Orleans of the early twentieth century are so vivid that it is difficult to put the book down. I could picture the streets, houses, clothes and everything absolutely perfectly. That being said, the characterization features a lot of clichés, which is something I have apparently lost all patience for. The weird personality hiccup that hits Rowan in the final section is honestly infuriating. After everything she has gone through, she just suddenly decides to do the exact opposite of her plan? What? Pfff! And if Michael Curry is not some sort of stereotypical middle-aged women fantasy-fulfillment, I don’t know what is: he is so sweet, so caring, so sensitive, so appreciative of baroque music, architecture and Dickens… but he looks like a hunky Irish fireman. Again: what?! The interesting and more complicated characters get very little space to bloom (having read the sequel, I know Mary Beth and Julien get a lot more page time later on, but still...), and the “witches” themselves are all variants on a theme: beautiful, ruthless and sexually insatiable. Oh, except the “weak ones”, whom everyone just hates. Sigh.
The writing is gorgeous and lush, in that Southern Gothic way, and Rice certainly knows how to create creepy atmospheres. But at the same time, some elements of this book are pure shlock. The thirteen witches, the incest, the doctor who can kill people with her mind, the family secrets everyone knows about but won’t speak of: it’s all so over the top that you’d expect the book to be sponsored by Hammer Horror movies. Let’s be clear: I love Hammer Horror-type stories, but the camp factor is what keeps a book like this from being a really great novel and keeps it firmly in the trashy-fun section of my library. The pacing didn’t bother me, but I can see how this would not be everyone’s cup of tea: there are bucket-loads of exposition and backstory to go through before actual stuff happens. While it can be a challenge to keep all the information straight (but same could be said of “Vampire Lestat” and other Rice novels where she uses the stories-within-the-main-story trope) it is still very readable and intriguing.
Pick it up for you are looking for a gloriously trashy work of historical and occult fiction; just don’t go in expecting it to be much more than a creepy, very well-written soap opera.