Mallory Rubin

Can you trust another person's account of your experience in your life?

But also, like, can you trust your own account?

Because your own memory is deeply flawed and that is just inherent.

And the longer you're alive, presumably the harder it becomes to...

hold on to any strand of your experience.

So the fact that this, for Lestat, it's like fractured and messy and there's exciting pops of color and then he'll say like, this is sort of the fun that I like to sing about in my song, Long Face.

And you're like, wait, but part of the reason to write the song is to like, there's a therapeutic cathartic act of creation and connection.

To me, I think it feels like more likely to be the latter because that's part of, I think what the, like the thesis of the show and how it's adapting this is like interested.

And again, I don't really have the frame of reference for how central that is in the book, but this idea, like Lestat saying, okay,

First of all, this is a hysterical episode of television.

So you're cracking up.

There is such a wry wit and like the humor that is simultaneously, you know, and again, sort of for the character, 265 years, definitionally like eternal and universal in a sense, and then hyper attuned and specific to the moment that he's chronicling.

That's all great.

I think this idea of like,

Okay, the stretcher.

The bookstore scene was so funny.

Just like chef's kiss, wonderful.

He's back at his flat.

Scrawling, you know, fact-checking in real time this account.

When a super fan at the concert comes up to him after to get him to sign the book, he scrawls.