Pandora, by Anne Rice

To me this was one of those books... One of those I regret reading.

A while ago, a book by Anne Rice used to mean hours of pure delight to me. The woman used to concoct the most gripping, intriguing and entertaining stories; her characters used to be so well developed you could swear they were flesh and blood. I used to wait anxiously for every new book she would write, but, well, that was then.

It didn't hurt to read Pandora, but it didn't add anything either. Unlike other volumes in The Vampire Chronicles, this one reads without any passion. I kept turning page after page hoping that something powerful would develop, but it never did.

All I can say about this book is that it's set in ancient times and is about a Roman woman who loses everything in life and is given the dubious gift of immortality as a blood drinker. The story sheds a little more light on the life of Marius, a major character in the Chronicles, but the lack of truly exciting events or earth shattering revelations makes it no more than a little decoration on a cake that is about to get stale.

Rice's determination to write two books a year (one in the Vampire Chronicles and something else new) seems to be taking a heavy toll on the quality of her work.