Y'all ready?
I didn’t hide this review because I am delusional enough to believe that anyone is afraid to be spoiled for this forty-year-old piece of trash. I did it because there’s some triggering shit in this that has nothing to do with werewolfy creepiness. So, here’s a trigger warning for assault and rape.
And this happens within the first five pages. There’s literally a handful of disjointed paragraphs switching from the perspective of Karyn to that of her rapist (I’m not even kidding, he gets a perspective for a page or two before he is arrested and is never mentioned again), and then he barges into her home and the scene goes on from there – in uncomfortable detail, and for way too long. It was hard to read, very hard, and all that it entails is that Karyn needs therapy and gets advised to move away to a quieter town called Drago. Where the werewolfing is happening of course. You’re telling me I had to read this awful, horrendous, overly long scene all so they can move away?
No, of course not. Because it also served to drive her husband away from her. Roy quickly becomes The Absolute Worst™ when he cheats on his wife, who was assaulted two months ago, because she doesn't sex him anymore. You know. Because trauma. Just a couple of weeks ago. And then he meets a hypersexual bombshell in a nightgown in Little Ville McShittown right smack bang in the middle of nowhere, whom he proceeds to fuck in heavy handed detail, only interrupted by the author reminding us how he can’t possibly control himself when such a beautiful and willing woman is nearby.
But why did I start reading this, then? Well, I’ve been looking for some classic werewolf fiction everywhere. Something trashy and classic about stalking the woods in the dark, creepy for 95 %, with just some gory battle at the very end. Tension building slowly, misty hills, suspicion, that kind of stuff. It’s surprisingly hard to find, so when I stumbled across this book from 1977 or something for just three bucks, I figured, why not. Sure, it wasn’t some Victorian setting, but there was a small town and a forest, so that works for me. But let me tell you. Even Red Riding Hood – you know, the Amanda Seyfried film about teenage romance – did eerie, creepy, suspicious stuff better than this collection of garbage.
The creepy starts of fine, with classics such as old claw marks on the front door when they first arrive at their new house, some howling in the distance, their dog disappearing and turning up dead and a chase in the woods by something large, quick and quiet. Then it promptly dies never to be revived again when the wolf just… parks his ass in the drive way in view of the house? And sits there? Only to get his ear shot off and leave again? Way too early in the book? At that point, my only aim was to finish the book so I could write this review, so at least I get some endorphins from Goodreads-likes for my three bucks. But it became even worse.
You see, Roy, the shitty husband, basically gives the sexy woman, who is obviously Evil because she is beautiful and likes sex, permission to turn him. So, he gets bitten (not by a mysterious and quick shape in the dark, but by the werewolf, of which we get another nice long look so we’re not scared anymore, but never mind that). And he starts acting strange. But instead of staying with the perspective of his scared wife, who already knows about werewolves at that point, we follow him into the woods to witness his becoming a werewolf. Not what I would’ve done, I would have saved Obligatory Transformation Scene for way later, and told it from the perspective of Karyn, but OK. So, Roy turns in the woods. And it is the single most boring, lifeless excruciatingly beige transformation scene I have ever witnessed. It literally says ‘The hands were now paws’ at some point. No thank you ma’am. First of all, don’t tell me that. Show me that. Show me Roy’s fear and complete lack of understanding, show me what is happening to his hands and in his brain. Second of all, paws? Really? Paws are cute. Paws have toe beans and go pat pat pat on wooden floors. What they don’t do, is rip out the throats of innocent townsfolk through a thin wooden wall, which they’ve backed into because they’ve become uneasy after hearing a growl. You know, werewolf stuff.
OK, you might be thinking, but at least there’s a werewolf now. Maybe he can use those paws to trot on over to town and murder some people. But do you know what we’re going to read about next? That’s right, it’s time for some wolf sex! Roy runs into a female wolf and we get to read about wolf desire. Yay. And then, at last, at the end of that first night, he commits his first wolfy murder. You know who he goes after? The single LGBTQIA+ character in the whole book. Who used to be a nun but got kicked out for sleeping with another nun, and has struggled with her sexuality ever since. Because we can’t have the gays survive, now, can we?
No, we can’t. And another thing we apparently can’t have, is a creepy werewolf book. Nope. Because this weird-ass heap of words turns into a zombie novel. Not in the sense that there’s now suddenly zombies, but because of course everyone in the little town is a werewolf. So, our final girl locks herself into a house while wolves swarm outside and literally run into windows and stuff. At some point she even says, ‘Oh, God, another one’. At the very end the cheating-worst-husband-ever-werewolf even gets to fight obviously-also-a-werewolf-creepy-doctor to save Karyn. Thanks, I hate it. He stays, she leaves, wolves howl. The end.
I know this book is old. I know I hate-read it in the end. I know I should not have expected anything – and to be fair, I hardly did. I know rape is prevalent in horror. But you know what? That’s not good enough, I don’t care, it’s shit.