Anne Rice (2007) Called out of Darkness. A Spiritual Confession

Anne Rice, as most people know, is a novelist. Her bestselling work includes her first novel, Interview with the Vampire. This is the only novel of hers which I've read. It made her who she is. Gave her financial freedom. The blurb on the cover tells the reader that she has written twenty-eight novels. I've a dim memory of trying to read another one of these, but quickly put it down. I could run my finger down the list, but honestly I wouldn't be able to tell you which one it was. And this is a book about honesty. That's the one trait I look for in a writer. This is an honest book, with many of the milestone cognizable to me. Well, that's if you exclude the smiling face of Anne Rice on the inside of the back cover. It's tagged 'Anne Rice as a young girl'. Ahem. Ahem. A gentleman never says what age a lady looks. 

I paid ten pence for this book. I'll let you decide whether it was worth the money. I've shortened it considerably and put it into poetic form for ease of digestion. If you read beyond this you owe me five pence. 

Fool’s crown in my hand

Haunts this barren land

Yet here we stand

Wait at the bus stop of fate

Why is it always running late?

On this our first date

Then you shut the gate

Mankind can always wait

 

Nervous and narrow are the streets

Nervous and narrow are my feet

My way of seeing –into infinity

Old-school can sometime be cruel

In the milieu which we grew

We don’t seem to meet

I seek God in geography.

 

Pray, what today?

Crows the beggars of my youth

As a shroud

In the heart there’s a start

Grace breaks free

God was

God is – liberty.

 

Capricious spirit lies and wails

Torn away Veronica’s veil

A secret voice whispers

                                -pray

My daughter, my son, my one

Voice of conscience

Voice of doom

Belong in separate rooms

Do you believe?

                I sigh

There’s no reason why

But if the music of violin sings

I’m full of broken strings

If Giotto and Rembrandt

Speak of God

I give a little nod

In a mausoleum of clay figurines

God’s words seem obscene

If there’s universal love

Let’s be clear

Every day is new year

 

Get up- go- before it’s too late

Wait and see if He’ll come to me

Miracle of love complete

Over there – take a seat

For the strong and free

That’s the truth of youth