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Tag Archives: Robert Peak
The Last Werewolf by Glen Duncan
The fact that yours truly was not hired to provide lavish illustrations for this particular work of fiction is absolutely unforgivable.
Be that as it may, The Last Werewolf by Glen Duncan, is well worth the time and effort. Mr. Duncan’s werewolf, the last werewolf, Jake, is tired, having lived too long, seen too much, and (to be frank) having devoured too many victims,and upon discovering that he is the last of his kind, understandably resigned to allowing those pursuing him to cash in his chips. Needless to say adrenaline and plot twists all conspire to give our hirsute protagonist a reason to live or at least go down clawing and biting.
Jake is of course a James Bond with a penchant for turning into a nine foot, supernatural, and decidedly furry, being every full moon and Duncan delights in sending Jake from one raging fire to another.
Jake is, for the most part, the narrator of his story. A good decision by the author. Duncan gives Jake a lively, wry, witty, and clever voice. One chapter begins, delightfully, “Reader, I ate him.” If you had to invite a flesh-eating monster to your dinner party, you’d choose Jake.
That said, The Last Werewolf is often downright visceral. Jake as werewolf is, make no mistake, a monster. And a grisly one at that. With vampires, the assault is almost always polite and usually downright titillating. All those beautiful victims of Buffy look like there having a great time. Not so with the werewolf. The werewolf rips your throat out, tears off great hunks of muscle, fat, and grizzle, and devours them. The werewolf, dear victim, doesn’t mess around.
To say nothing of werewolf sex which, in Jake’s paws at least, is in an altogether different league.
Give it a shot. Silver of course. Ducan has a great time putting his red in fang and claw hero through his paces and the reader should have a great time coming along to chase down a deserving victim (or an undeserving one for that matter) under the bright light of a full moon.
Not sure I can rise for Bane. Kind of committed to obeying Andre the Giant. Torn between two bizarre, grim, violent father figures. Always that way. Always.
On the other hand…
I guess this is for a Game of Thrones film. I don’t really remember the bear or the tree climbing and fires. I remember the wolves.