The Mummy

My goodness, this book is so much fun. I think most people associate Anne Rice with brooding Byronic heroes and overwrought prose, but its a nice reminder that she knew how to write a suspenseful, well-paced, thrilling story. The Mummy has a sentimental place in my family history. My dad introduced me to Anne Rice as a teen, and I started with her independent stuff, Servant of the Bones and Violin, before moving on to the Vampire Chronicles. But for my dad, his first Anne Rice book was The Mummy, found on the bookshelf of a tenant he had after they moved out. I figured it was time to finally experience it myself, and I was not disappointed.

The Mummy, or Ramses the Damned is written a bit like a movie. Not only is it multi-POV, it ricochets back and fourth between perspectives in a way that is similar to how most movies are edited. For some, that might sound infuriating, but I assure you it keeps the pace up. It begins with Lawrence Stratford, the insatiable explorer and archaeologist, who uncovers the tomb of someone claiming to be Ramses the Damned, the true Ramses the Great, who lived for thousands of years and loved Cleopatra. Ignoring the warnings, he brings the mummy out of the tomb, and very shortly after he meets his end. Once in London, the mummy awakens, falls head over heels for Lawrence's daughter, and the two of them embark on a wild journey to avenge Lawrence's death and revisit Ramses' past.

I wrote something in college about how Anne Rice writes the ideal male character as an effervescent, passion-filled lover of life who has a profoundly innocent perspective regardless of whether he does bad things are not. In turn, her female characters are complex, dark, and much more ruthless, fixated on independence and liberation. This book is a star example of that - Ramses is an even more exaggerated version of Lestat, with an insatiable lust for everything life has to offer him, from food, to love, to sex. Likewise, Julie Stratford aches for an independence that she can't really define - however, once she finds Ramses, she spends most of the rest of the book swooning. She's a bit like something from an old Hollywood film, which felt appropriate for the vibe the book was giving off. The more darker aspects of Rice's feminine comes in the form of Cleopatra, a more complex, tragic but powerful character. However, there is a rare middle character on this spectrum at play here - Elliott Savarell, Lawrence's former lover and father to Julie's fiance, Alex. Elliott is clever, diplomatic, romantic but also ambitious. And don't get me started on Henry, the spoiled rich boy cousin of Julie who's descent into gambling and excess have turned him into the perverted version of Rice's ideal man.

This is something I wish people would pay better attention to when story telling - when you get a bunch of characters together that have very distinct roles/perspectives/attitudes, it makes every scene white hot, regardless of what's happening. There is a dinner scene in this book that is one of the best things I have ever read, because every person in it has their own distinct motivations, perspectives, and understanding of the situation. How do you make a story where not a lot is really happening for a while feel so fast-paced and so fun? By creating awesome character dynamics, not to mention smooth-as-butter writing, and an unapologetic love for the characters, regardless of how innocent or wicked they may be.

Things slow down a tad in the last stretch. You know how sometimes at the end of a supernatural horror movie you find yourself asking, "Wait, what did they tell the police?" This book answers that, only it does it before the climax, which is a bit of a drag. However, once it gets rolling again, it dives right into a thrilling ending. I don't know how many times or in how many ways I can say this book is incredibly fun. If you like the idea of reading an old Hollywood monster movie, but with all the sex and queer characters left in, you will probably love this book. It's suspenseful, deeply romantic, and has a great ending.