One of my first introductions to supernatural literature was INTERVIEW WITH THE VAMPIRE. Anne Rice’s imagination thrilled me. She took a monster and made him erotic, forever changing how we view the undead. The original Dracula, as depicted by Bram Stoker, is horrific, a figure that evokes fear and dread. Lestat, on the other hand, oozes sensuality. His power is seductive, alluring. He mesmerizes so completely you want to offer him your life’s blood. When his fangs sink into your flesh, you swoon with ecstasy, one final, whole-body orgasm before death. What a way to go!

Rice’s 1976 book unleashed a frenzy of vampiric literature, including a slew of sequels from the grand dame herself. Unfortunately, not all of them matched the caliber of the first one. Most were vastly overwritten—LESTAT, in particular, was tediously redundant. An unfortunate result of her astounding success, it seems. She refused to have her work edited. The lean prose of INTERVIEW blew up in subsequent works, often subjecting readers to 500 pages that could have easily been whittled. (One exception is QUEEN OF THE DAMNED. It was very long and yet remained engrossing.)

Rice’s other books revealed an ongoing fixation with eroticism, from the sex lives of priests and castrati in CRY TO HEAVEN to the hardcore S&M of her SLEEPING BEAUTY trilogy (don’t read those if you’re at all queasy—they’re quite graphic). Even her WOLF books are sexual.

Yet Rice was a complex woman with openly acknowledged religious quandaries. Raised Catholic, she spurned the church, then rejoined it and left again. Many of her later works, such as CHRIST OUR LORD, which I haven’t read, deal with spiritual issues. You’ll find characters musing about God and the soul in books as diverse as the LIVES OF THE MAYFAIR WITCHES trilogy (terrific) and SERVANT OF THE BONES (awful).

Love her or hate her, there are few who can compare with Rice for ingenuity and skill. She took fiends we thought devoid of feeling and made them whole. Inhuman, malignant, yet consumed with dilemmas of the heart and mind and flesh. That’s quite a legacy for any author.

Thanks for reading. Wishing you all the very best in 2022.




Seems like every time I pick up a magazine, there’s an article extolling the virtues of crossword puzzles. I call them my brain food, as necessary as vitamins. No day is complete without at least one grid solved. I crave the stimulation and I’m grouchy when deprived. You’ll find one in most magazines and newspapers. The very best are from the New York Times.

I began my first NYT puzzle with military precision, answering the clues in numerical order: across, down and then back again, a loop that eventually filled in the puzzle but took a long time. Seemed like there had to be a better way.

Bit by bit, I learned little tricks that helped. Completing corner boxes first often makes solving the rest of the puzzle easier. If the subtitle refers to a numbered clue, start there and build around it. Read clues with different inflections. Sewer can be a person who sews or a city’s waste system. Consider whether the clue is a verb or a noun. Is it bait as in “to lure” or bait as in “fishhook food?” Clues with question marks are often puns (be prepared for groaners).

With the New York Times, crossword puzzles become more difficult as the week progresses. Mondays through Thursdays are easy-to-medium. Fridays are notoriously hard. Saturdays can leave you stumped and cursing the devious minds that create them.

And then there’s the Sunday puzzle, guaranteed to challenge but never overwhelm. There’s always a theme, the most significant answers will connect to it. The grid is bigger, much bigger, than the daily versions, and meant to be savored with a cup of tea on the most comfortable chair you’ve got, preferably by a sunny window.

The only drawback to NYT puzzles is they’ve turned me into a crossword snob. I dropped the local newspaper that carried them—too many times where the carrier didn’t deliver.  A regular NYT subscription is expensive, not to mention that it can take up to a week after publication before I get it in the mail. There are paid online versions available but they’re not the same. I need to move freely around the grid, not click and type.

I’ve bought just about every NYT puzzle book collection available, so getting my crossword fix means settling for less. Nothing quite matches the NYT’s wit, although the Wall Street Journal is a real contender. Merl Reagle used to create some wonderfully clever puzzles, but, sadly, he’s gone. Simon and Schuster publishes bargain mega-collections—300 puzzles per book—but they’re not as challenging. I tend to go through them quickly, four puzzles a day.

But all is not lost. The NYT puts out a Crossword Page-A-Day Calendar. (Buying link sent to partner, nudge, nudge, wink, wink.) Don’t ask why I took this long to find it. Either I was oblivious, or I knew about it but thought the print size looked absurdly small.

So this Christmas morning, I look forward to continuing a tradition that began during WWII as a way to entertain war-weary readers. I’ll put on holiday music and then settle under a cozy throw in the sunroom, pen and puzzle in hand, with a mug of ginger tea and a box of See’s candies—dark chocolates, of course—close by.


For an intriguing look at the world of cruciverbalism, check out WORDPLAY, a 2006 documentary by Patrick Creadon. The film features Will Shortz, editor of the New York Times crossword puzzle, crossword constructor Merl Reagle, and various celebrity crossword lovers.

Thanks for reading.