I have about 75 pages left of Prince Lestat I’m deliberately pacing myself. I am forcing myself not to peek and see which chapter is next. I want to know what happens but I don’t want to reach the end of the book.
It’s quite the dilemma.
Like every Anne Rice book, Prince Lestat moves along like a fine piece of classical music, weaving in and out until the crescendo builds and the song-in this case, the story-comes to an end. The process can take a while. The mythology must be built. But I can sense that the end is in sight and it’s both satisfying and saddening.
Lestat is in fine form. Rest assured of that. I am thoroughly enjoying seeing friends from previous books popping up. Prince Lestat could be a thousand pages and I don’t think it would feel long enough.
But the end is in sight. My next post will most likely be my review (still spoiler free, of course).
Random Readings 