How the Vampire Lestat Invaded My Life

When I was in college, I thought the only thing worth reading were the classics, and I had a lot of catching up to do because like any teenage girl I was re-reading Judy Blume's Forever and other teen romances. All of Jane Austin's work was at the top of the list (that romance thing) followed by Thomas Hardy, George Elliot and Dostoyevsky. My friends called me the snob of the classics and I wore my title well, head held high and the latest read in my hand for all to see. And then The Vampire Lestat by Anne Rice came on the scene. I resisted. As the 6 train made its way to South Ferry I ignored all the other passengers engrossed in their copies. At times someone missed their stop and I smiled as they cursed out loud. Once I arrived on the Staten Island Ferry I encountered more readers of this vampire novel and I shook my head. Why? I asked myself. It's all been done before. "Yo, is that book good?" A young man walking by asked the lady next to me.
"Yeah, she replied. " I can't put it down." He smiled, glanced at my cover and kept on moving. He wasn't asking any questions about Jude the Obscure.

Of course I read it. A couple of months after resisting I finally broke down. Damn, that Lestat was hot! I dreamt about him in his tight leather pants, singing on stage to thousands of young pretty people. But he was looking at me! Yeah, I fantasized for a week or two. Flaunted my book cover like all the others. Imagined Lestat turning me into a blood sucker. Turning me on as he drained me. I was in lust.

I went back to the classics after Lastat. More Hardy, Joyce, Austin. But I was restless. Eager for the next adventure with the hot superstar vampire.