Summary

The author recounts their enduring love for the fictional character Ramses from Anne Rice's "The Mummy," and their excitement upon discovering a sequel written years later.

Abstract

The author shares a personal narrative about their deep connection to the character Ramses from Anne Rice's novel "The Mummy: or Ramses the Damned." This connection began in their teenage years and led to a profound emotional and romantic response, influencing their early experiences with masturbation. Despite the character's significant impact, the author moved on as no sequel was available to continue Ramses' story. Years later, during a chance encounter with Anne Rice, the author nervously inquired about the possibility of a sequel but left with no certainty. Recently, the author discovered that a second book, "Ramses the Damned: the Passion of Cleopatra," co-written by Anne Rice and her son Christopher Rice, had been published, reigniting the author's passion for the character.

Opinions

The author has a strong emotional attachment to the character Ramses, describing it as being "completely in lurve."
They initially found the character through a recommendation from a friend who worked at a library.
The author's fondness for Ramses surpassed their interest in Anne Rice's more famous vampire characters.
The lack of a sequel to "The Mummy" left the author yearning for more of Ramses' story.
The author felt a mix of intimidation and excitement when meeting Anne Rice and was hopeful yet uncertain about the prospect of a sequel.
The discovery of the sequel "Ramses the Damned: the Passion of Cleopatra" brought about a resurgence of the author's affection for Ramses.
The author expresses gratitude to Anne Rice for eventually continuing Ramses' story and is eager to revisit the character through the new book.

The First Time I Fell In Love With A Fictional Character

You never forget your first time, even if it was fictional.

I was always an avid reader. I’d read everything I could get my hands on, which was usually in the supernatural and not-gory horror category.

I was particularly fond of R.L. Stine and Christopher Pike. Even as I became a teenager, I was still reading somewhat “kiddie” horror. I loved horror B-movies but my reading was definitely below my age group.

And that was all right because I knew what I loved.

Until my friend, who worked in a library in the “big city” (I lived in a small town at the time) sent me a copy of Interview With A Vampire by Anne Rice. She told me it was sexy (my 15-year-old self blushed) and insisted I read it, thinking I’d fall in love with Lestat.

I read it, and while I loved the vampires, I wasn’t quite sold on falling in love with a rockstar-like vampire. I read another one or two of Rice’s vampire books, which I liked well enough, but it didn’t do for me what my friend had promised.

Then I stumbled on Anne Rice’s one-off book, The Mummy: or Ramses the Damned.

And I was completely in lurve.

I don’t know what it was about Dr. Ramsey that took my teenage senses by storm. He made me tingle like no R.L. Stine character ever could. And I wanted him, and I wanted more of him.

But there was only one book. Unlike the vampires, Ramses didn’t have a sequel, despite the promising end:

“The Adventures of Ramses the Damned Shall Continue”

And without a second book, the only way they could continue was in my head.

And continue they did!

I’ve never been so romanced by a person (living or fictional) as I was for those months after reading the book. And then rereading the book once my brain ran out of material.

The thought of this Egyptian pharaoh did things to me. I believe while reenacting scenes in my head where I was a better version of Julie Stratford was when I started masturbating.

That’s pretty powerful, even for an immortal.

Eventually, without new material to fuel my passion for a fictional character, I forgot about Ramses and moved on to other book boyfriends.

But Do You Ever Really Forget Your First?

Years later in 2012, I had the opportunity to meet Anne Rice while she was touring her new book, The Wolf Gift. I bought a copy of that book, which I looked forward to reading. I hadn’t read her stuff in a long time.

But I also brought my dog-eared but sadly neglected from disuse for many years copy of The Mummy. How could I not? It’d been such a huge part of my, ahem, education. I’d crushed on him long before the term book boyfriend was a thing.

I was so nervous to meet her. Would she think I was a weirdo for asking if she’d ever write another Mummy book? Had she forgotten about poor, lovelorn Ramses who longed for his Cleopatra?

I’d met many authors before. Only one, Judy Blume, intimidated me to the point where I wouldn’t say a word or else I’d break out crying. Authors, after all, are just people like you and me.

So I figured I’d try to calmly ask her about Ramses.

“Oh, how I long for more Ramses!” — I didn’t say this, but it was implied by my well-worn copy of the book, which I nervously pushed across the table toward her.

Anne Rice, bless her, didn’t look at the book in disgust, but smiled up at me, then got back to signing.

“So, um, do you think, um, that you’ll ever write another mummy book?” I asked, showing off my inner dork but hoping I didn’t sound too desperate.

She had, after all, left me on a 20+ year cliffy.

“Oh, maybe,” she replied with her coy smile.

She looked so small sitting behind that table. Could I reach over and shake her, asking her why, why would she focus on the whiny vampires instead of continuing Ramses’ story? Why would she write about witches and werewolves and forget all about sexy immortal mummies?

How can you ever forget about sexy immortal mummies?

But I did no such thing.

I just smiled, sadly, thanked her for signing my books, and walked away.

I didn’t think my plea mattered to her. She’d made her fortune off other stories. She didn’t need to continue Ramses’ story — for me, for her, for anybody.

And I’d just have to accept that.

Fast Forward to Today

As I was preparing to write this post, I realized that I’m totally crushing on an Egyptian guy right now. So maybe my Ramses crush really never faded, just immortalized in different ways, including a real person instead of a fictionalized character.

Then I went to the Wiki for The Mummy to refresh my memory of the plot points, and I found out: THERE IS A SECOND BOOK OUT! It was written in collaboration between Rice and her son, Christopher Rice and published in 2017.

How had I never heard about Ramses the Damned: the Passion of Cleopatra?

I’ve never put something on hold through the library so fast!

I plan on rereading The Mummy first, then I’ll delve into the Passion of Cleopatra.

And I’m really curious how the book will stand up after all this time. The last time I reread it, I was still in my teens.

Will I still be passionately in love with Ramses? Will the second book, which is both a sequel and a standalone, fulfill my teenage desire for a continuation of his story?

Stay tuned. I’ll let you know when I’m done rereading both!

And special thanks to Anne Rice for continuing the story. I honestly never thought it’d happen!

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