The werewolf howls at the door. Instead of running, you invite him in for a tumbler of single malt. At least you do if he’s Jake Marlowe, the star of Glen Duncan’s new novel The Last Werewolf.
As the title indicates, Jake’s not just any werewolf—he’s the last of his kind. Jake is smart, sexy, and self-aware, and even though he’s been targeted for extinction, you keep hoping he’ll dodge that silver bullet with his name on it.
I’m not a big fan of horror novels; most tales featuring vampires, zombies, or werewolves are either aimed at young readers or come off as entirely too campy for my taste. But The Last Werewolf takes the horror genre as we know it and blows the doors off.
Jake’s narrative of his final days is laced with great prose, clever literary references, and incisive cultural observations. It’s also chock full of raunchy sex and graphic violence. Jake does, after all, kill and eat people once a month, and in between, in human form, he has an almost limitless libido. If Duncan occasionally gets carried away, I can forgive him because he makes magic on the page.
At one point in the book, Jake quotes Susan Sontag: “Whatever is happening, something else is going on.” I can’t think of a more apt description for The Last Werewolf. Even as we’re absorbed in Jake’s flight from his assassins, his close calls with the vamps (who have their own agenda for him), and his steamy sexual encounters, Glen Duncan forces us to think about friendship and love, about the nature of humanity and the beast that dwells within us all. And that, as the reviewer for The Guardian put it, “makes the case for literature.”
My novel, Yard Sale, is available from Amazon.