In a darkened room a young man sits telling the macabre and eerie story of his life - the story of a vampire, gifted with eternal life, and cursed with an exquisite craving for human blood.
I'd expected white breasted women and blood - and crosses and lots of mumbo jumbo. Instead the book is a good piece of historical fiction describing the New Orleans of a hundred years ago as well as an attempt to express the fundamental drawbacks to vampire immortality. The vampires of Ann Rice can love but not express it physically, they can ponder on the world of mortal man but they cannot become a part of it, so in the end they have to fill their time with art and literature and the philosophical questions that haunt them, why are we here, are we evil, is there a god and the worst of all what to do with endless time. Not suprising then that most vampires apparently kill themselves due to simple and utter boredom.
I throughly enjoyed the book and would recommend it as simply a fascinating story of an individual at a moment in time trying to come to terms with existance.