This interview is one of my favorite memories from working in the book world. When I was heavily involved in book blogging, I used to requested ARCs and ALCs (advanced review copies of books and audiobooks respectively). When I found out Anne Rice was beginning a new supernatural series with werewolves, I requested an early review copy but remained convinced I wouldn’t hear anything back on the request. Instead, she not only had her people send me a galley copy for review, she also agreed to an interview. Now that she’s gone, I cherish this memory even more.
This post was originally published on May 3, 2013.
The content has been edited to clean up the formatting and update graphics only.
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When Reuben Golding, a young reporter on assignment, arrives at a secluded mansion on a bluff high above the Pacific, it’s at the behest of the home’s enigmatic female owner. She quickly seduces him, but their idyllic night is shattered by violence when the man is inexplicably attacked—bitten—by a beast he cannot see in the rural darkness. It will set in motion a terrifying yet seductive transformation that will propel Reuben into a mysterious new world and raise profound questions. Why has he been given the wolf gift? What is its true nature—good or evil? And are there others out there like him?
I have taken my time reading this book and really gave myself the opportunity to take it all in. Once I read the first twenty pages, I started thinking about how to best describe the feeling that this book gives you. The one word that keeps coming to mind just doesn’t do the feeling justice – romance. I’m not talking about the traditional thoughts that the word romance conjures (candlelit dinner for two at a street café in Paris or an elaborately planned proposal at the top of the Empire State Building). Bear with me while I try to explain.
The beginning of this book (by that I mean the first twenty pages) are flat-out awe inspiring. Our main character, Rueben Golding, has taken a trip to a beautiful estate in northern California to do a write up for the Observer because this almost palatial home is going up for sale. Legendary in its own right, the house stands in purposeful isolation. From the moment Rueben lays eyes on the property (dubbed Nideck Point) he is totally entranced by its beauty. Like a little boy seeing a train for the first time in person, he’s blown away. He sees this house with a child like innocence, seeing nothing but the wonder of the world wrapped in four walls. He goes into this deep, almost heartbreakingly beautiful description of this house. Everything about the place just screams of wonderful tragedy. He looks at the estate with such poetic reverence – the size, the craftsmanship, the history, the rich colors, the extravagant décor – as he’s day dreaming about what he would do with the place if he owned it. Of course, my favorite is the library. Just reading the description makes me feel the warmth of the fireplace and I can almost smell the ancient texts that line the shelves. Perfection. wink wink
Everything in his dreamy description is just on such an unbelievably grand scale. The first twenty pages of this book completely and totally set the stage for the feel of the characters and the story. More so than any other book I have ever read.
Then comes the Wolf Gift….and our dear Reuben’s whole world changes. Stuck in the middle of an emotionally draining moral dilemma, lost in his new grey area between right and wrong, Reuben is unsure if he’s a monster or a hero…or just monstrously heroic. Watching this character struggle on his own through all of the changes that are overtaking him, I found myself just wanting to reach into the book and give the poor guy a hug!! Reuben brings a whole new meaning to the word ‘vigilante’ and rather than abhorring him for it, you want to throw him a pep rally! Encourage him!! Be his cheerleader!!!
Let’s talk some technicalities:
This book has an amazing cast of characters. I’ve already expressed my adoration for Reuben. He’s fantastically written and makes me desperately wish that I viewed the world through his eyes. I believe that if everyone stopped to really see the beautiful things in life – allow the majestic to absolutely take our breath away – instead of focusing on all of the horrible and the negative, we would all live in a much better world. I envy Reuben’s ability to view things that way.
Felix is a man who has had the chance to travel the world and take in all it’s wonders. Judging by the contents of his home that he left behind, this is a man that has lead a genuinely rich existence. Again, with the envy. wink wink In his own way, he is very much like Reuben and I think that this is part of the reason that Reuben becomes so enamored with Nideck Point. Kindred spirits who would both be instantly taken with the estate.
Celeste is “good on paper”. She’s the ideal for a cookie-cutter perfect wife. She’s brilliant at what she does but she just doesn’t have the same star-filled eyes that Reuben does. (You’ll have to read the book to see where that leaves our lovers.)
Grace and Phil are Rueben’s parents. Phil is most definitely Reuben’s father. He’s a poet at heart and an artist to the bone. The interactions that these two characters have make me smile. While I was reading this book, every time Grace (Reuben’s mother) came into the picture, all I could picture was Ellis Grey. If any of you out there are Grey’s Anatomy fans, I am talking about Meredith Grey’s mom – the brilliant surgeon. Beautiful, intelligent, calculated and always looking for the science in things. Approaches everything with realism. She’s not a day dreamer and she’s not a romantic but these things don’t take away from the character. She shines bright in her own way.
Jim is Reuben’s brother and he’s just a sweetheart. He has his own struggle to deal with. However, it was a struggle that he took on willingly and I don’t believe that he regrets it for a moment. I admire that in him.
Of course, there is a big long list of characters that we could go over and they are all fabulous for very different reasons but I am afraid that I will leak too much info if I get into why I love each and every one of them. So I will stop there with the character gushing.
Now, what good would all of this be without some mystery to the tale? The Wolf Gift is very well woven with many different mysteries. The clues are there but written in such a way that you can’t simply guess what is going to happen half way through. Trust me. You think you have it all figured out at the mid-way point but you could not be more wrong. Just sit back with your coffee and your book and enjoy the ride. What a ride it is!
I had a little bit of trouble categorizing this book in my mind. When I told people what I was reading, I felt like it was an injustice to say that it is a “werewolf book”. The story of The Wolf Gift is so much more than that. The Wolf Gift has action & adventure (in the Indiana Jones sense of the word), love & romance, legend & myth, terror & fear, primal carnage, humor, and so much more.
Overall I give The Wolf Gift 5 incredibly enthusiastic stars! I can honestly say with a 100% clear conscience that there wasn’t a single thing that I disliked about this book. The Wolf Gift was just amazing and I will be re-reading it many times in my life, without a doubt. I am not positive if this is the beginning of a series (that will be in my upcoming interview with Anne) but I have a sneaking suspicion that it is. Although the story wrapped up nicely, there are some things left open that would most definitely work for a much-welcomed sequel in my eyes. I have my crossables crossed that we will be seeing more of Reuben.
Spice Level
🌶️🌶️🌶️
My Rating
★ ★ ★ ★ ★
CONTENT WARNING: This is a good opportunity to remind everyone to check out the Trigger Warning page here on my website. This message applies to my books and pretty much everything you’re going to see on my blog, whether it’s dark romance or urban fantasy romance (which tends to be violent). I don’t include this message with every review but some antiheroes rise above the others and do some truly depraved shit. Ye be warned.
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The review copy of this book was supplied by the author or publisher in exchange for a fair and honest review.
THE WOLF GIFT
A The Wolf Gift Chronicles Novel
2012 © Anne Rice
He was doing a story for the San Francisco Observer on the giant house and her hopes of selling it now that the estate had at last been settled, and her great-uncle Felix Nideck had been declared officially dead. The man had been gone for twenty years, but his will had only just been opened, and the house had been left to Marchent, his niece.
They’d been walking the forested slopes of the property since Reuben arrived, visiting a ramshackle old guesthouse and the ruin of a barn. They’d followed old roads and old paths lost in the brush, and now and then come out on a rocky ledge above the cold iron-colored Pacific, only to duck back quickly into the sheltered and damp world of gnarled oak and bracken.
Reuben wasn’t dressed for this, really. He’d driven north in his usual “uniform” of worsted-wool blue blazer over a thin cashmere sweater, and gray slacks. But at least he had a scarf for his neck that he’d pulled from the glove compartment. And he really didn’t mind the biting cold.
The huge old house was wintry with deep slate roofs and diamond-pane windows. It was built of rough-faced stone, and had countless chimneys rising from its steep gables, and a sprawling conservatory on the west side, all white iron and glass. Reuben loved it. He’d loved it in the photographs online but nothing had prepared him for its solemn grandeur.
He’d grown up in an old house on San Francisco’s Russian Hill, and spent a lot of time in the impressive old homes of Presidio Heights, and the suburbs of San Francisco, including Berkeley, where he’d gone to school, and Hillsborough, where his late grandfather’s half-timber mansion had been the holiday gathering place for many a year. But nothing he had ever seen could compare to the Nideck family home.
The sheer scale of this place, stranded as it was in its own park, suggested another world.
“The real thing,” he’d said under his breath the moment he’d seen it. “Look at those slate roofs, and those must be copper gutters.” Lush green vines covered over half the immense structure, reaching all the way to the highest windows, and he’d sat in his car for a long moment, kind of pleasantly astonished and a little worshipful, dreaming of owning a place like this someday when he was a famous writer and the world beat too broad a path to his door.
This was turning out to be just a glorious afternoon.
It had hurt him to see the guesthouse dilapidated and unlivable. But Marchent assured him the big house was in good repair.
He could have listened to her talk forever. Her accent wasn’t British exactly, or Boston or New York. But it was unique, the accent of a child of the world, and it gave her words a lovely preciseness and silvery ring.
“Oh, I know it’s beautiful. I know it’s like no place else on the California coast. I know. I know. But I have no choice but to get rid of all of it,” she explained. “There comes a time when a house owns you and you know you have to get free of it, and go on with the rest of your life.” Marchent wanted to travel again. She confessed she’d spent precious little time here since Uncle Felix disappeared. She was headed down to South America as soon as the property was sold.
“It breaks my heart,” Reuben said. That was too damn personal for a reporter, wasn’t it? But he couldn’t stop himself. And who said he had to be a dispassionate witness? “This is irreplaceable, Marchent. But I’ll write the best story I can on the place. I’ll do my best to bring you a buyer, and I can’t believe it will take that long.”
What he didn’t say was I wish I could buy this place myself. And he’d been thinking about that very possibility ever since he’d first glimpsed the gables through the trees.
“I’m so glad the paper sent you, of all people,” she said. “You’re passionate and I like that so very much.”
For one moment, he thought, Yes, I’m passionate and I want this house, and why not, and when will an opportunity like this ever come again? But then he thought of his mother and of Celeste, his petite brown-eyed girlfriend, the rising star in the district attorney’s office, and how they’d laugh at the idea, and the thought went cold.
“What’s wrong with you, Reuben, what’s the matter?” asked Marchent. “You had the strangest look in your eye.”
“Thoughts,” he said, tapping his temple. “I’m writing the piece in my head. ‘Architectural jewel on the Mendocino coast, first time on the market since it was built.’ ”
“Sounds good,” she said. There was that faint accent again, of a citizen of the world.
“I’d give the house a name if I bought it,” said Reuben, “you know, something that captured the essence of it. Nideck Point.”
“Aren’t you the young poet,” she said. “I knew it when I saw you. And I like the pieces you’ve written for your paper. They have a distinct character. But you’re writing a novel, aren’t you? Any young reporter your age should be writing a novel. I’d be ashamed of you if you weren’t.”
“Oh, that’s music to my ears,” he confessed. She was so beautiful when she smiled, all the fine lines of her face seemingly so eloquent and pretty. “My father told me last week that a man of my age has absolutely nothing to say. He’s a professor, burnt out, I might add. He’s been revising his ‘Collected Poems’ for ten years, since he retired.” Talking too much, talking too much about himself, not good at all.
His father might actually love this place, he thought. Yes, Phil Golding was in fact a poet and he would surely love it, and he might even say so to Reuben’s mother who would scoff at the whole idea. Dr. Grace Golding was the practical one and the architect of their lives. She was the one who’d gotten Reuben his job at the San Francisco Observer, when his only qualification was a master’s in English literature and yearly world travel since birth.
Grace had been proud of his recent investigative pieces, but she’d cautioned that this “real estate story” was a waste of his time.
“There you go again, dreaming,” Marchent said. She put her arm around him and actually kissed him on the cheek as she laughed. He was startled, caught unawares by the soft pressure of her breasts against him and the subtle scent of a rich perfume.
“Actually, I haven’t accomplished one single thing in my life yet,” he said with an ease that shocked him. “My mother’s a brilliant surgeon; my big brother’s a priest. My mother’s father was an international real estate broker by the time he was my age. But I’m a nothing and a nobody, actually. I’ve only been with the paper six months. I should have come with a warning label. But believe me, I’ll make this a story you’ll love.”
“Rubbish,” she said. “Your editor told me your story on the Greenleaf murder led to the arrest of the killer. You are the most charming and self-effacing boy.”
He struggled not to blush. Why was he admitting all these things to this woman? Seldom if ever did he make self-deprecating statements. Yet he felt some immediate connection with her he couldn’t explain.
“That Greenleaf story took less than a day to write,” he murmured. “Half of what I turned up on the suspect never saw print at all.”
She had a twinkle in her eye. “Tell me—how old are you, Reuben? I’m thirty-eight. How is that for total honesty? Do you know many women who volunteer that they’re thirty-eight?”
“You don’t look it,” he said. And he meant it. What he wanted to say was You’re rather perfect, if you ask me. “I’m twenty-three,” he confessed.
“Twenty-three? You’re just a boy.”
Of course. “Sunshine Boy,” as his girlfriend Celeste always called him. “Little Boy,” according to his big brother, Fr. Jim. And “Baby Boy,” according to his mother, who still called him that in front of people. Only his dad consistently called him Reuben and saw only him when their eyes met. Dad, you should see this house! Talk about a place for writing, talk about a getaway, talk about a landscape for a creative mind.
He shoved his freezing hands in his pockets and tried to ignore the sting of the wind in his eyes. They were making their way back up to the promise of hot coffee and a fire.
“And so tall for that age,” she said. “I think you’re uncommonly sensitive, Reuben, to appreciate this rather cold and grim corner of the earth. When I was twenty-three I wanted to be in New York and Paris. I was in New York and Paris. I wanted the capitals of the world. What, have I insulted you?”
“No, certainly not,” he said. He was reddening again. “I’m talking too much about myself, Marchent. My mind’s on the story, never fear. Scrub oak, high grass, damp earth, ferns, I’m recording everything.”
“Ah yes, the fresh young mind and memory, nothing like it,” she said. “Darling, we’re going to spend two days together, aren’t we? Expect me to be personal. You’re ashamed of being young, aren’t you? Well, you needn’t be. And you’re distractingly handsome, you know, why you’re just about the most adorable boy I’ve ever seen in my entire life. No, I mean it. With looks like yours, you don’t have to be much of anything, you know.”
He shook his head. If she only knew. He hated it when people called him handsome, adorable, cute, to die for. “And how will you feel if they ever stop?” his girlfriend Celeste had asked him. “Ever think about that? Look, Sunshine Boy, with me, it’s strictly your looks.” She had a way of teasing with an edge, Celeste did. Maybe all teasing had an edge.
“Now, I really have insulted you, haven’t I?” asked Marchent. “Forgive me. I think all of us ordinary mortals tend to mythologize people as good-looking as you. But of course what makes you so remarkable is that you have a poet’s soul.”
They had reached the edge of the flagstone terrace.
Something had changed in the air. The wind was even more cutting. The sun was indeed dying behind the silver clouds and headed for the darkening sea.
She stopped for a moment, as if to catch her breath, but he couldn’t tell. The wind whipped the tendrils of her hair around her face, and she put a hand up to shelter her eyes. She looked at the high windows of the house as if searching for something, and there came over Reuben the most forlorn feeling. The loneliness of the place pressed in.
They were miles from the little town of Nideck and Nideck had, what, two hundred real inhabitants? He’d stopped there on the way in and found most of the shops on the little main street were closed. The bed-and-breakfast had been for sale “forever,” said the clerk at the gas station, but yes, you have cell phone and Internet connections everywhere in the county, no need to worry about that.
Right now, the world beyond this windswept terrace seemed unreal.
“Does it have ghosts, Marchent?” he asked, following her gaze to the windows.
“It doesn’t need them,” she declared. “The recent history is grim enough.”
“Well, I love it,” he said. “The Nidecks were people of remarkable vision. Something tells me you’ll get a very romantic buyer, one who can transform it into a unique and unforgettable hotel.”
“Now that’s a thought,” she said. “But why would anyone come here, in particular, Reuben? The beach is narrow and hard to reach. The redwoods are glorious but you don’t have to drive four hours from San Francisco to reach glorious redwoods in California. And you saw the town. There is nothing here really except Nideck Point, as you call it. I have a suffocating feeling sometimes that this house won’t be standing much longer.”
“Oh, no! Let’s not even think of that. Why, no one would dare—.”
She took his arm again and they moved on over the sandy flags, past his car, and towards the distant front door. “I’d fall in love with you if you were my age,” she said. “If I’d met anyone quite as charming as you, I wouldn’t be alone now, would I?”
“Why would a woman like you ever have to be alone?” he asked. He had seldom met someone so confident and graceful. Even now after the trek in the woods, she looked as collected and groomed as a woman shopping on Rodeo Drive. There was a thin little bracelet around her left wrist, a pearl chain, he believed they called it, and it gave her easy gestures an added glamour. He couldn’t quite tell why.
There were no trees to the west of them. The view was open for all the obvious reasons. But the wind was positively howling off the ocean now, and the gray mist was descending on the last sparkle of the sea. I’ll get the mood of all this, he thought. I’ll get this strange darkening moment. And a little shadow fell deliciously over his soul.
He wanted this place. Maybe it would have been better if they’d sent someone else to do this story, but they’d sent him. What remarkable luck.
“Good Lord, it’s getting colder by the second,” she said as they hurried. “I forget the way the temperature drops on the coast here. I grew up with it, but I’m always taken by surprise.” Yet she stopped once more and looked up at the towering façade of the house as though she was searching for someone, and then she shaded her eyes and looked out into the advancing mist.
Yes, she may come to regret selling this place terribly, he thought. But then again, she may have to. And who was he to make her feel the pain of that if she didn’t want to address it herself?
For a moment, he was keenly ashamed that he himself had the money to buy the property and he felt he should make some disclaimer, but that would have been unspeakably rude. Nevertheless, he was calculating and dreaming.
CONTINUE READING…
Wow. I am still in an utter state of awe to even be posting this right now….
For years, as long as I can remember really, I have been completely enamored with a series of books. This series is solely responsible for my deep affection for vampire fiction. It’s also probably most responsible for my harsh view on what is and what isn’t “good” vampire fiction. From the very first moment I met Lestat and Louis in Interview With a Vampire, I was in love. Since that day, they are the vampires that all other vampires strive to live up to in my eyes. The author spun a tale like nothing anyone had ever seen before. One of romance and monstrosity. One of extreme love and loss. Now she’s shifting her gaze from one creature of the night to another, bringing us the dreamy-eyed Rueben and The Wolf Gift. As a reader, I couldn’t possibly be a bigger fangirl. As a writer, she is IT – my hero. Ladies and gentlemen, Anne Rice.
Jena From BookMojo [Jena]: Good afternoon Anne! I just want to start out by saying thank you for the interview opportunity. I am a big fan of your writing and getting the chance to interview you was on my long term goals. I mean, far off in the future long term. I am excited for the chance. And I couldn’t imagine a better time than as a follow up to reading The Wolf Gift. Before we get to that though, let’s talk about you (for the two people out there who have been living under a rock and don’t know who you are).
When did you decide that you wanted to be an author? Or was it something you’ve always wanted to do?
Anne Rice [Anne]: As a little child, I wanted to be an author. I remember deciding to write a story at the age of five. I had to ask my mother or grandmother how to spell nearly every word. I got out one sentence: “LeeLee was sitting in her chambers.” Now, I have to wonder what inspired this. I remember it pretty vividly; but why at five, did I love words like ‘chambers’ for a bedroom or a parlor? Anyway, my style after all these years reflects the same preferences. —– In the Fifth grade, I wrote a science fiction novel from the point of view of two people from Mars. It was probably no more than a short story. I wrote it by hand with a ball point pen in a notebook, and passed it around amongst classmates. And there again, I see, my approach hasn’t changed. I wanted to give the point of view of the aliens, not the point of view of those who encountered them. I’m still doing this. ——- In the Seventh grade I wrote a novel inspired by the film King Solomon’s Mines. The big surprise at the end when the safari had found the coveted “jewel,” was that there was an elixir of life inside the jewel; the jewel was actually a little casket. Again, after all these years I’m still writing about elixirs of life (the Chrism in the Wolf Gift). Anyway, yes, I always wanted to be a writer.
Jena: Was writing something that came naturally to you or did you have to “cultivate” it (such as schooling, workshops, etc)?
Anne: I had a natural tendency to make up stories, and something of an ear for style. So I would say it was all very spontaneous and instinctive. But there is no doubt that you can learn a lot about writing in a writing class. You can learn from every book you read. You can pick up really good suggestions from others. —– But I think most writers learn simply from reading other writers. When I feel I’m moving too fast in a book, I’ll go to Tolstoy to see the way that he takes his time, going as deep as he wants into a character, while all else waits. If I feel I’m mired in detail and exploration, I’ll pick up Mario Puzo’s The Godfather to see how boldly he makes breaks between sections of his book, and how briskly he tells his stories. I think I learn from all kinds of writers, the greats, the popular, the crime writers, etc. I’ll take instruction from anybody. And I don’t care if some one sees Jackie Suzanne on my coffee table. I often study popular fiction of the more notorious sort to see how these writers move a story, break up their chapters, handle transitions, etc.
Jena: What was the toughest hurdle you had to overcome with publishing your first book?
Anne: Well, there are two ways of answering that. In terms of acceptance by New York, it was the peculiarity of the book, that all the characters were vampires. But in truth acceptance came fairly quickly, within nine months of my starting to submit the book. Victoria Wilson of Knopf loved the book and accepted it for Alfred A. Knopf. —– Now in terms of the process, the hardest thing for me was to accept editing. I suffered terribly feeling the work wasn’t mine if I yielded to the suggested changes offered by the editor. But in truth, I was inspired by much of what Vicky had to say and wrote a whole new ending for the book, inspired by her criticisms. What was hardest however was to change a word or a phrase. In those days I had a terrible time with self confidence. I was afraid. Victoria is and was then an excellent editor, and only wanted the best for the book. I think how one responds to editing is highly personal. And Vicky has always respected my problems with this. Almost all novels accepted for publication are accepted on some conditions — that this or that be re-written, that this or that be re-thought etc. And some writers are much more at ease with all this than I ever was.
Jena: BookMojo has a good many followers that are fledgling authors (including myself). If you had one piece of advice to give fledgling writers everywhere, what would it be?
Anne: Write. Don’t think too much about publishing until you’ve written your book. Write. You become the writer of your dreams by writing; you make yourself into a writer by writing. And have complete confidence in yourself, in your voice, your characters, your story as you write. Shut out all negative voices, all voices that tempt you to hedge your bets or water down what you’re doing. Go for it. Write the book you want to be known for; the book you’ve never found in any bookstore; the book in which you want to live in your mind. Go where the pain is; go where the pleasure is; be fearless. —- Remember: in the early stages people will criticize you and knock you for the very thing that will later make your career: your originality. So don’t hesitate ever to be original, to be yourself; and again, shut out all negative voices. —- If you read your work to a spouse or relative or friend and they don’t get it, move on. Find some one else. If you love your work, some one else will love it. —- Get the writing done. If you’re blocked for a while, start again, and don’t beat up on yourself for having stopped: just write. Write. Write. —– Remember, too, that all of us become discouraged, all of us face moments in which our writing seems lifeless, dull, derivative and in which we hear the voices of discouraging parents or teachers or friends echoing in our heads. Just ignore all that. Do your best. Fight it; ignore it. Reach for the fire from heaven boldly and without apology.
Jena: A good many authors out there are known as being reclusive and very unapproachable. Maybe unapproachable is the wrong word. They seem very out of touch with their fans. You have taken a completely new approach between Facebook and your website by using these outlets as a way to actually interact with your fans on a daily basis. Even going so far as to “nickname” them the ‘People of the Page’. Every day, fans can go to your Facebook page and find questions posed to them where you are actually seeking their input on subjects such as theology, politics, etc. As one of your People of the Page, I can tell you that connection and interaction really means the world to a lot of your fans. What made you decide that you wanted to have that kind of dynamic with your fans? What has it done for you and/or your writing?
Anne: I discovered I loved Facebook. I discovered I loved the page by doing the page. It was suggested to me in the beginning by others. And when I saw the page, and understood how it worked, I was thrilled. I discovered I could ask my readers all kinds of questions; and the page began to grow in scope. Soon we were discussing politics, entertainment, literature, women’s rights, gay rights, religion, history, television, movies. And I loved it. I simply loved it. But it’s the People of the Page who make the page. Their long substantive and interesting posts are really the vitality of the page. —– This is a collaboration between me and them and I’m profoundly grateful for it. —— Sometimes it can get rough; we have disagreements; people leave and slam the door; insults fly. To be frank, I’m not sure I could have done this sort of thing thirty years ago or even fifteen years ago. But right now, I love it. I really do. —— But understand, I’ve always loved to talk to my readers. For years, I went on tours all over the country, and had the opportunity to talk to readers everywhere about my books. At little signings we could talk a lot. At big signings, we had very brief encounters. But it was always wonderful. I can remember so many voices, faces, moments. I carry all that with me, that sense of who my readers are in all their diversity. I’ve been blessed. I guess I see Facebook as like that…. Frankly, I think writers who don’t explore this are really missing something golden.
Jena: Let’s chat about The Wolf Gift. I had the pleasure of being able to read The Wolf Gift prior to the release date and I instantly fell in love with Reuben. More than anything, I fell in love with the way he sees the world. A great example of this is the awe he felt upon seeing Nideck Point for the first time. It’s a characteristic I feel everyone should try to adopt. Is Reuben inspired by someone in your life or was he pulled from thin air?
Anne: All my characters are inspired by all the people I know. I think I pour everything into each character. I seldom if ever choose one person to be a model for a character. And I like the process of creating a character to be instinctive and spontaneous. Sometimes I never know where a character came from. Reuben is dear to my heart in so many ways. I think he is so wronged by those around him, who judge him only by his looks and his trust fund. Maybe I was writing about what women suffer here, being judged so much by whether or not they’re pretty or attractive or seductive, or thin, or fat, having always to cope with the fact that their “looks” precede them in any social situation. I don’t know. But I feel for Reuben, and I feel for his pain when his family dismisses him and treats him lightly. A lot of that was my pain years ago when people didn’t take me seriously. I know where all that is coming from. And I also feel for the kind of romantic personality that Reuben is: how he falls in love with Marchent; how he longs for someone who doesn’t punish him every waking minute like his girlfriend Celeste. And yes, Reuben falls under the spell of Nideck Point the way I fell under the spell of great houses in my childhood when I would walk the streets of New Orleans dreaming of someday owning a great house. That is all my pain, my longing. Reuben is a romantic and a writer. And what drove The Wolf Gift for me was seeing how he coped with the liberation of the Chrism, with suddenly having immense strength, for suddenly being able to affect things around him in dramatic and secret ways as a Man Wolf. I reveled in all that. (I think you can imagine my shock when some critics dismissed Reuben precisely because he was good looking and rich; they rejected the book on this account; and here I thought I’d explained so well how this man suffered from dismissal and rejection because of these things…. But one could say I failed to make my points clear here. Or I failed with some readers. )
Jena: I am going to try to keep this question a little bit vague as I don’t want to spoil the book for the fans who haven’t read it yet. There is a lot of lore and literary references in The Wolf Gift to other werewolf works. Was there a lot of research involved with writing The Wolf Gift? How long did it take you to write from beginning to end?
Anne: I did do research, just like Reuben does in the novel. I checked out the great werewolf movies, I looked at some of the old classic stories, I studied the legends. But in truth, it doesn’t take very long to do that. There isn’t all that much material. And it was fun. And as always, I’m striving to do my original thing with the concept, create an original origin story, create an original history for Man Wolves, etc. And my Man Wolves aren’t like anyone else’s as far as I know. Reuben really is a Man Wolf, walking on two legs, yet he can climb trees as if he were a powerful simian, and he has retractable claws like some cats. And of course he can reason and talk while in full wolf coat. And he can make love to a woman while in full wolf skin. And that for me is the core of the book: that he’s conscious in the wolfen state and he can communicate. He becomes a powerful beast creature while remaining himself.
Jena: You have written a well-rounded and eclectic cast in The Wolf Gift. Is there a particular character that you favor? If so, why?
Anne: I’m just getting started with all of them, really. I want very much to develop Stuart, the teen boy wolf, and of course I want to tell more and more about the mysterious characters who enter the story at the end of the book. Even in the sequel, “The Wolves of Midwinter,” I see myself as still just getting started. I haven’t had a chance to really develop Laura yet. It’s still, right now, in two books, all about Reuben…but I am having a wonderful time opening doors, suggesting different possibilities. I’m loving it. I guess Reuben is the character I totally favor. It’s all about Reuben’s adventures really.
Jena: Is there a character that we would all be surprised to find out that you hate? If so, why?
Anne: Good question. I wouldn’t say there is anyone I hate yet, not the way I hated Lestat’s mother, Gabrielle, in the Vampire Chronicles. Or Lestat’s friend, Nicholas. —- Right now, I pretty much love everybody in the Wolf Gift books. There are villains but that’s plain enough. When I really hate characters, they don’t last too long. They wander off, or they get killed. My writing has never been fueled by hatred; it’s almost always fueled by love. If I can’t love a character, I can’t work with that character very much. I guess the most fully developed negative character I ever created was Patsy, Quinn’s mother in Blackwood Farm. And I’m still asking myself where in the Hell did Patsy come from? I so knew Patsy, so knew her, and so hated her.
Jena: The Wolf Gift was wrapped up but also left some questions unanswered. Is this the beginning of a new series?
Anne: Well, yes, I think you can see by now that it is. The Wolves of Midwinter, the sequel will be published this coming October 15th, and as I said above, I see myself as just beginning. There is so much I want to do with these characters. So much. And new supernatural characters are introduced in the second book, and I want to work more with them.
Jena: If so, did you start out intending it to be a series or was it originally a stand-alone book?
Anne: I don’t think I have ever written a novel without the possibility of a series lurking in my mind. I always see “the world” of the novel and its people as ongoing. My mind just does that. I feel like I mark off a period of time in that ongoing “world” for my story, but the world remains. That’s one reason I don’t try to wrap up absolutely everything at the end of a novel. I don’t think it’s realistic to resolve every single issue, or answer every single question.
Jena: Do you already have the ending planned?
Anne: Not at all. No, not at all. Writing the Wolf Gift series will be a matter of one discovery after another. And I do want to keep doors open in this series. In The Vampire Chronicles, because the novels dealt so much with darkness and depression, and even despair, I was always closing doors. I want to do the reverse with Reuben and his family and friends.
Jena: And now a few random questions for thought: If you were a character in Reuben’s world and you somehow acquired The Wolf Gift, would you consider it a “gift” or a “curse”?
Anne: I would consider the Chrism a great gift. If it was offered to me, I don’t think I could turn it down. Same with the Dark Gift of vampire blood. I couldn’t refuse it. I love being alive and I love reading history and I want so much to know what is going to happen as the centuries unfold. I am in love with the Gift of Life. I couldn’t turn down immortality. I simply couldn’t. And I couldn’t turn down invulnerability either.
Jena: Now that publishing as an industry has been thrust into the digital age, as an author, what are your feelings on the eBook craze? Good thing or bad thing for the industry?
Anne: I think the digital age, and the ebook craze is great for one very basic reason. It is increasing the audience for books. It is making it possible for people to read more and in more places; it is inviting back to literature older readers who had given up on books for physical reasons; they can now make the font very large on their Nook or Kindle and enjoy reading again. Travelers can carry a library on board a plane in their Nook or Kindle. School kids can carry a library in a backpack with their kindle or Nook. And I’m convinced that people will continue to buy hardcover and paperback copies of book they’ve especially loved. —– Frankly, I don’t think the industry as such is doing enough to help the ebook craze lead to the aquisition of hardcovers and paperbacks. Why isn’t every ebook download provided with a link at the end for you to immediately order a hardcover or paperback copy of the book you’ve just read? Or send a gift of a hardcover or paperback copy to someone else? But in time a lot of the problems will be worked out. —- And I think the industry has been slow to protect authors from piracy. Piracy is a terrible thing. Who wants to live in a world where only the rich can afford to write literature? We want people to be able to make a living in the arts. So why have we not worked out ways for writers to be compensated automatically when someone downloads a book? It can be done. We need more creative thinking about the new industry and the new possibilities, not publishers panicking and refusing to cooperate with Amazon or deliberately withholding ebooks from the market. That’s so counterproductive.
Jena: Fanfiction is becoming a widely used pastime for fans all over the place. Some authors are rather offended by fans creating their own stories with the author’s characters. An example of how active fanfics are: there are a little over 43,000 different Buffy the Vampire Slayer fanfics on one website alone. What are your feelings on fan-fic? Would you be flattered or offended if someone wrote a Vampire Chronicles fanfic? *Keeping in mind that there is no money made on fanfic as long as it is not Pulled-to-Publish (change the names, publish and make money off of the story). *
Anne: I don’t approve of fanfiction but I am happy to ignore it. I don’t like the idea, no, and I certainly can’t give anyone official or legal permission to write it. But I don’t really care much about the whole thing anymore. I find it very easy to ignore fanfiction based on my books. —— Frankly, I don’t know why writers want to do it. It’s much better I think for a young writer, or aspiring writer to create his or her own world and characters and have full control to see the work become a great success. Again, I try to ignore the fanfic world.
Jena: I want to thank Anne for taking the time to chat with us today. It really has been an honor and an experience I will not soon forget.
Anne: —– Thank you, Jena. It’s been a pleasure. Thank you for the opportunity to discuss so many topics. I appreciate it.
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