Thursday, October 6, 2011

The Last Werewolf by Glen Duncan

A bit on the elderly side (he turns 201 in March), but otherwise in the pink of health. The nonstop sex and exercise he’s still getting probably contribute to that, as does his diet: unusual amounts of flesh and blood (at least some from friends and relatives). Jake, of course, is a werewolf, and with the death of his colleague he has now become the only one of his kind. This depresses Jake to the point that he’s been contemplating suicide. Yet there are powerful forces who for very different reasons want—and have the power—to keep Jake alive. 

Here is a powerful new version of the werewolf legend—mesmerizing and undeniably sexy, and with moments of violence so elegantly wrought they dazzle rather than repel. But perhaps its most remarkable achievement is to make the reader feel sympathy for a man who can only be described as a monster—and in doing so, remind us what it means to be human. One of the most original, audacious, and terrifying novels in years.

My review:
1 look
I am no prude, but when I got to yet another description of anal sex, I put this one down. I mean, good grief, we get it already: werewolves like sex. Putting this stinker on my "do not bother" list. Because I hated it so much, I'm pretty sure Hollywood will turn it into a movie.

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