Book Review: Angel Time by Anne Rice
I’ve never read a book by Anne Rice before. I know my brother-in-law likes her a good deal (or did, when he was younger), and I know she doesn’t appreciate people writing fanfic for her stories. But…I’ve never read anything by her, and I haven’t seen Interview with the Vampire, either - despite my high school friends being involved in LARPs related to that (I guess…it was something about vampires, anyway…the two are conflated in my mind). I do like some vampire stories…but more the brand of Hellsing, where they are unapologetic monsters, and not terribly angst-ridden over that fact. I have seen a YouTube video of the song ‘Drink of Me and Live Forever’ with clips of Interview with the Vampire, but that’s as far as it goes.
But on Tuesday, the 12th grade took their end of the year class trip to Langano Lake, and I was invited along, so I brought a towel, sunscreen…and a book to read. I got to go swimming for the first time since I’ve been in Ethiopia, and I have to admit, I’m not used to getting hit on by university students when I go to the beach! I mean, nothing too overly obnoxious, but certainly I get to enjoy my ‘minor celebrity’ status by having everyone there stare at me. With the kids, it’s kinda cute, and I get to use my little Amaringa and let them practice their English on an actual foreigner. For the older ones…well…it’s just weird. It would have been worse if I were wearing a bikini - I was wearing shorts and a sports bra/coverup. Most of the girls who had swimsuits had the type with a skirt or shorts, and the top piece was more of a tank top. The rest wore a combination of leggings and t-shirts (or something similar). The Muslim girls were in long skirts as usual, so they didn’t go swimming (they’re always covered wrist to ankles and wear headscarfs, but the skirts are fashionable ones and the headscarfs are colorful, so they still seem like teenagers). I get the impression that few people can swim, since going swimming is such a novel experience for them. The water was between knee and waist deep for a long ways out, though, so no risks. Somewhere in the lake, there are hippos (apparently), but nowhere near the shore where we were.
But anyway, so with the help of lots of SPF 50, I sat on a towel in the sun on a sandy beach in Ethiopia looking out at the water and smelling the flowers from the nearby trees and read a book for a couple of hours while I let my clothes dry (Langano is in the Rift Valley, about 170 km [100 mi] south of Addis Ababa). I got to choose a great spot, because Ethiopians don’t sunbathe; they sit in the shade. I talked to a few of my students (and the other people there) but mostly I was on my own. I barely saw the other teachers who were chaperoning.
Anyway, the book…was surprising in a few ways. I really liked how she established the character - a hitman, a musician, with an interest in medieval history. I suppose he was an introverted people-watcher, but enough of his intellectual landscape was very familiar to me (and, I imagine, to Anne Rice). She had him grow up in New Orleans as she did, but the story was not set there. It was mostly in southern California. And, of course, the character was experiencing a crisis of faith where everything was about to change for him. Most authors handle such material…clumsily. For one thing, conversion is a very interior event, difficult to communicate to others even when you try. Mostly, people have to resort to ‘you know what I mean?’ and thus can only share the experience with someone else who has been through something similar. You can’t get away with that in a novel…not even one told in first person. I won’t say that she didn’t make any missteps, but I will say that the overall experience rings true…she put enough of herself into it to make it sound sincere. Which I greatly appreciated.
If love of beauty, truth and goodness is what universally draws people to faith, she went with a character who saw the beauty of the world and experienced it very acutely - the ‘artistic’ side of the musician. I thought that was a good choice, because that experience is accessible from so many angles and on several levels. George MacDonald tended to go with ‘goodness’ in his novels, which gives them most of their appeal, but beauty is that elusive intangible thing that you have to be a decent author to convey. Anyone can talk about flowers; not everyone can make you want to visit the Mission Inn just because of their description of it.
The protagonist had been a devout Catholic child, but a tragic event in his teen years killed his faith in God quite abruptly. That left behind an anger at God - for not existing, for allowing bad things to happen, it varied. And of course, he was horribly lonely and depressed on account of his bleak existence as an anonymous killer in disguise. But all of his cultural background, his philosophy…it was quite familiar to me! True, I’m not an artist or a musician, but I read the same types of books as he did (mostly; though I liked Silence of the Lambs and he didn’t).
And then an angel walks in. That, of course, is where you lose your audience most of the time. Granted, describing a beautiful young man sounds like yaoi fanfic no matter how you do it, but I guess she didn’t cross any lines there. It was a near thing, though. I think it comes down to the issue that ‘love’ is one of the most misused words in the English language. And I did like how she handled some of the issues - the angel is a messenger, so he does what he was sent to do…he’s not there to right all the wrongs of the world or intervene in everything. Of course, the angel’s ‘offer’ smacks a little too much of using people. I think that one could explain it as meeting people where they are - he’s used to being used by his boss, so offering him the chance to switch bosses will be more comfortable than completely altering his worldview in one fell swoop. But after studying Pope John Paul II’s ‘Theology of the Body’ enough, any concept that God (or an angel) would use someone just immediately sounds so completely off base. I can pretend he didn’t mean precisely what he said, but…. I guess it’s not entirely her fault. Everyone knows the prayer ‘Make Me an Instrument’ and I know Don Bosco liked that concept very much. There is something there that is correct, like St. Teresa of Avila’s comment that God has no hands and feet on earth now, except for ours. It’s just…there’s a difference between being a…a vessel for grace to flow through…and being a useful object.
There were some awkward ‘Am I going crazy?’ moments, because the reader knows right away the angel is real (I mean…title of the book…), but I think this was handled much better at the end than in the beginning. Because, at that point, the reader doesn’t know for sure what’s going to happen next. Demons are only mentioned tangentially a few times, but there’s very clear spiritual warfare going on. I think it was wise of her not to delve too much into that side of things, since, well…that kind of darkness doesn’t need much illumination.
I also absolutely hated the concept that gave the title to the book - essentially, time travel. I mean, granted, I like medieval Europe, so spending some time there was fun. And enough of the feel of an older culture was present that I didn’t resent it too much (though way too many letters were written and travelling back and forth far too quickly). But once I resigned myself to the fact that the story was going there, it wasn’t so bad - the parallels to the protagonist’s life were interestingly woven in, and it was of course a stroke of brilliance to have the angel sent there to answer the prayers of the Jewish community (not the Christians).
The character sketches overwhelmed the plot a few times, and for such a short novel, that’s saying something. But of course…the story was about people. She dealt with another common issue wisely. A (medieval) character is complaining about the hypocrisy of the churchmen in Rome…but then experiences his own conversion, where he realizes that living his own faith sincerely is the only answer to that. So he becomes a Dominican friar :). That part of the story I liked! Because it’s true that there will always be people out there doing things wrong, giving their organization a bad name (as a foreigner living in another country, I am often asked to answer for ‘America’, as if it’s one place and all Americans are the same). But…you only control your own actions, and at the end of the day, that’s what you answer for. It’s easy to complain about hypocrisy (and I’m not saying that it shouldn’t be called out sometimes), but it’s much harder to focus that scrutiny interiorly and get your own life right (or at least, it is for me).
So, I really enjoyed the book a lot, and the way she delved into the story. I think that, of everything she’s written, this is most likely to appeal to me. So, I’m not sure I’ll read more of Anne Rice. But I am glad I’ve read this, and I know some of this story will stick with me for a long, long time. Parts of it are strangely convicting, in a very subtle, gentle way. After all, few readers would be as guilty of crimes the way the protagonist is (he’s a murderer). But…even so…his isolation is a very modern condition, and I think the general message of helping others being at the core of the meaning of life is spot on. And that conversion is, essentially, saying ‘I’m Yours,’ to God. I was pleasantly surprised by how much of the theology she got ‘right’ - ie, her characters could easily have had a Dominican or Jesuit education, as they were supposed to. She handled hope giving beauty to the world well, though not nearly as poignantly as Tolkien managed to; the beauty of his work is so piercing, because it is always on the verge of being lost forever and his characters are typically a hair’s breadth from despair. Even though she had real enough despair, it didn't hit quite so hard for some reason.
And, in the end, a life of faith is a love affair, and losing that is the greatest loss (in that it makes everything hopelessly bleak). I understand that very well…even if I sometimes despair of ever learning to love anyone.
But on Tuesday, the 12th grade took their end of the year class trip to Langano Lake, and I was invited along, so I brought a towel, sunscreen…and a book to read. I got to go swimming for the first time since I’ve been in Ethiopia, and I have to admit, I’m not used to getting hit on by university students when I go to the beach! I mean, nothing too overly obnoxious, but certainly I get to enjoy my ‘minor celebrity’ status by having everyone there stare at me. With the kids, it’s kinda cute, and I get to use my little Amaringa and let them practice their English on an actual foreigner. For the older ones…well…it’s just weird. It would have been worse if I were wearing a bikini - I was wearing shorts and a sports bra/coverup. Most of the girls who had swimsuits had the type with a skirt or shorts, and the top piece was more of a tank top. The rest wore a combination of leggings and t-shirts (or something similar). The Muslim girls were in long skirts as usual, so they didn’t go swimming (they’re always covered wrist to ankles and wear headscarfs, but the skirts are fashionable ones and the headscarfs are colorful, so they still seem like teenagers). I get the impression that few people can swim, since going swimming is such a novel experience for them. The water was between knee and waist deep for a long ways out, though, so no risks. Somewhere in the lake, there are hippos (apparently), but nowhere near the shore where we were.
But anyway, so with the help of lots of SPF 50, I sat on a towel in the sun on a sandy beach in Ethiopia looking out at the water and smelling the flowers from the nearby trees and read a book for a couple of hours while I let my clothes dry (Langano is in the Rift Valley, about 170 km [100 mi] south of Addis Ababa). I got to choose a great spot, because Ethiopians don’t sunbathe; they sit in the shade. I talked to a few of my students (and the other people there) but mostly I was on my own. I barely saw the other teachers who were chaperoning.
Anyway, the book…was surprising in a few ways. I really liked how she established the character - a hitman, a musician, with an interest in medieval history. I suppose he was an introverted people-watcher, but enough of his intellectual landscape was very familiar to me (and, I imagine, to Anne Rice). She had him grow up in New Orleans as she did, but the story was not set there. It was mostly in southern California. And, of course, the character was experiencing a crisis of faith where everything was about to change for him. Most authors handle such material…clumsily. For one thing, conversion is a very interior event, difficult to communicate to others even when you try. Mostly, people have to resort to ‘you know what I mean?’ and thus can only share the experience with someone else who has been through something similar. You can’t get away with that in a novel…not even one told in first person. I won’t say that she didn’t make any missteps, but I will say that the overall experience rings true…she put enough of herself into it to make it sound sincere. Which I greatly appreciated.
If love of beauty, truth and goodness is what universally draws people to faith, she went with a character who saw the beauty of the world and experienced it very acutely - the ‘artistic’ side of the musician. I thought that was a good choice, because that experience is accessible from so many angles and on several levels. George MacDonald tended to go with ‘goodness’ in his novels, which gives them most of their appeal, but beauty is that elusive intangible thing that you have to be a decent author to convey. Anyone can talk about flowers; not everyone can make you want to visit the Mission Inn just because of their description of it.
The protagonist had been a devout Catholic child, but a tragic event in his teen years killed his faith in God quite abruptly. That left behind an anger at God - for not existing, for allowing bad things to happen, it varied. And of course, he was horribly lonely and depressed on account of his bleak existence as an anonymous killer in disguise. But all of his cultural background, his philosophy…it was quite familiar to me! True, I’m not an artist or a musician, but I read the same types of books as he did (mostly; though I liked Silence of the Lambs and he didn’t).
And then an angel walks in. That, of course, is where you lose your audience most of the time. Granted, describing a beautiful young man sounds like yaoi fanfic no matter how you do it, but I guess she didn’t cross any lines there. It was a near thing, though. I think it comes down to the issue that ‘love’ is one of the most misused words in the English language. And I did like how she handled some of the issues - the angel is a messenger, so he does what he was sent to do…he’s not there to right all the wrongs of the world or intervene in everything. Of course, the angel’s ‘offer’ smacks a little too much of using people. I think that one could explain it as meeting people where they are - he’s used to being used by his boss, so offering him the chance to switch bosses will be more comfortable than completely altering his worldview in one fell swoop. But after studying Pope John Paul II’s ‘Theology of the Body’ enough, any concept that God (or an angel) would use someone just immediately sounds so completely off base. I can pretend he didn’t mean precisely what he said, but…. I guess it’s not entirely her fault. Everyone knows the prayer ‘Make Me an Instrument’ and I know Don Bosco liked that concept very much. There is something there that is correct, like St. Teresa of Avila’s comment that God has no hands and feet on earth now, except for ours. It’s just…there’s a difference between being a…a vessel for grace to flow through…and being a useful object.
There were some awkward ‘Am I going crazy?’ moments, because the reader knows right away the angel is real (I mean…title of the book…), but I think this was handled much better at the end than in the beginning. Because, at that point, the reader doesn’t know for sure what’s going to happen next. Demons are only mentioned tangentially a few times, but there’s very clear spiritual warfare going on. I think it was wise of her not to delve too much into that side of things, since, well…that kind of darkness doesn’t need much illumination.
I also absolutely hated the concept that gave the title to the book - essentially, time travel. I mean, granted, I like medieval Europe, so spending some time there was fun. And enough of the feel of an older culture was present that I didn’t resent it too much (though way too many letters were written and travelling back and forth far too quickly). But once I resigned myself to the fact that the story was going there, it wasn’t so bad - the parallels to the protagonist’s life were interestingly woven in, and it was of course a stroke of brilliance to have the angel sent there to answer the prayers of the Jewish community (not the Christians).
The character sketches overwhelmed the plot a few times, and for such a short novel, that’s saying something. But of course…the story was about people. She dealt with another common issue wisely. A (medieval) character is complaining about the hypocrisy of the churchmen in Rome…but then experiences his own conversion, where he realizes that living his own faith sincerely is the only answer to that. So he becomes a Dominican friar :). That part of the story I liked! Because it’s true that there will always be people out there doing things wrong, giving their organization a bad name (as a foreigner living in another country, I am often asked to answer for ‘America’, as if it’s one place and all Americans are the same). But…you only control your own actions, and at the end of the day, that’s what you answer for. It’s easy to complain about hypocrisy (and I’m not saying that it shouldn’t be called out sometimes), but it’s much harder to focus that scrutiny interiorly and get your own life right (or at least, it is for me).
So, I really enjoyed the book a lot, and the way she delved into the story. I think that, of everything she’s written, this is most likely to appeal to me. So, I’m not sure I’ll read more of Anne Rice. But I am glad I’ve read this, and I know some of this story will stick with me for a long, long time. Parts of it are strangely convicting, in a very subtle, gentle way. After all, few readers would be as guilty of crimes the way the protagonist is (he’s a murderer). But…even so…his isolation is a very modern condition, and I think the general message of helping others being at the core of the meaning of life is spot on. And that conversion is, essentially, saying ‘I’m Yours,’ to God. I was pleasantly surprised by how much of the theology she got ‘right’ - ie, her characters could easily have had a Dominican or Jesuit education, as they were supposed to. She handled hope giving beauty to the world well, though not nearly as poignantly as Tolkien managed to; the beauty of his work is so piercing, because it is always on the verge of being lost forever and his characters are typically a hair’s breadth from despair. Even though she had real enough despair, it didn't hit quite so hard for some reason.
And, in the end, a life of faith is a love affair, and losing that is the greatest loss (in that it makes everything hopelessly bleak). I understand that very well…even if I sometimes despair of ever learning to love anyone.