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Ends Meat
Someone- or something- is making a bloody mess of rural Yorkshire. The remains of the victims point to some kind of unidentified animal attack. Obsessive, outcast police detective Jim Hopkins is determined to get to the truth at the end of the grisly trail. When a young taxi driver is involved in a horrific road accident, he may at last get his chance. As the blood continues to flow and the body count rises, all arrows seem to point in one unlikely direction . . . The Outpost is a rundown, local cinema somewhere on the edge of town. Tom Doyle is a decent man struggling with a declining business, fighting to keep his people together and hold on to their family home. But an uncertain future isn't the only thing he's grappling with. Doyle also has a dark, dangerous secret coursing through his veins. Something uncontrollable. Primal. Bestial. Now, as if Doyle didn't already have enough to chew on, all hell has broken loose around him. In the midst of a harsh and unforgiving winter, both he and his family will find themselves waist deep in snow, chaos and carnage. With the law closing in and time running out, Doyle will come to realise just how savage the wolf within can be, and that an unseen, enemy threat could prove far more devastating than he could ever have imagined . . . Ends Meat is an original, full-blooded horror novel with a killer bite.
532 pages, Paperback
First published March 25, 2010
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Displaying 1 - 2 of 2 reviews
September 23, 2015
When I was reading this book I couldn’t help thinking about Remus Lupin from the Harry Potter series, which is weird because Ends Meat is almost entirely unlike the Harry Potter books in every way. Almost. Except for the Lupin connection. For the uninitiated, Lupin was bitten by a werewolf as a young boy, which made him into a werewolf himself and caused him any number of problems in life, such as the inability to hold a job for very long, or to form close relationships with many people, or living with the constant fear that his secret will come out. I always wondered about the years of his life that aren’t mentioned in those books. How does a basically good person reconcile himself with the no doubt horrible things he does when this monster inside him takes over his body and mind?
And that question is basically the anchor point for Ends Meat, which is why I loved it. Like Lupin, Tom Doyle is a genuinely good guy. He just wants to run his business and look after his family and avoid trouble. The thing is, trouble already found him, in the form of a bite from a creature passed the inner animal along to him. Doyle has difficulty holding a job; he has close relationships with very few people; and he lives with the constant fear of discovery. The difference from Lupin, though, is that we also see—in all its gruesome detail—exactly what havoc the wolf side of him is capable of wreaking. This is not a book for the faint of heart or weak of stomach.
Doyle carries a mountain of guilt with him, though, because he has no control over what he eats when he’s in wolf form. He might catch a deer. He might slaughter a barnyard full of animals. He might feed on a hitchhiker. He can’t know until after it’s happened, and he has to live with what he’s done. He also has to live with the fear of being found out. And this is the werewolf story I’ve been waiting for—although, dude, werewolf is not the preferred nomenclature. Half-breed or animal, please.
In so many stories that feature the wolf-creature trope, they’re relegated to supporting or ancillary roles. Or if the wolf is the focus, but the story is about the bite and transformation stage of development. And too often in recent pop culture, we’ve seen the sexy wolf. Here we get to see characters who have been living with their lupine affliction for many years, coping with it, and trying to be productive members of society in spite of it. There’s nothing sexy about what they do or how they live. It’s a gritty reality, and Doyle’s experiences in particular parallel with narratives of addiction or other kinds of illness in a heartbreaking way.
From a technical standpoint, there’s also a lot to like about the writing. All of the characters are multi-layered and richly realized. The dialogue is especially strong, popping and crackling in its tightness. It’s not a comedy by any means, but there are moments of humor, both dark and light, that hit the mark. The romantic subplots are crisp, never sappy or distracting. At the same time, the narrative does get a little overwrought in spots, especially in descriptive passages, but I think that’s a necessary side effect to create the kind of world that sticks to your palate the way this one does.
And that question is basically the anchor point for Ends Meat, which is why I loved it. Like Lupin, Tom Doyle is a genuinely good guy. He just wants to run his business and look after his family and avoid trouble. The thing is, trouble already found him, in the form of a bite from a creature passed the inner animal along to him. Doyle has difficulty holding a job; he has close relationships with very few people; and he lives with the constant fear of discovery. The difference from Lupin, though, is that we also see—in all its gruesome detail—exactly what havoc the wolf side of him is capable of wreaking. This is not a book for the faint of heart or weak of stomach.
Doyle carries a mountain of guilt with him, though, because he has no control over what he eats when he’s in wolf form. He might catch a deer. He might slaughter a barnyard full of animals. He might feed on a hitchhiker. He can’t know until after it’s happened, and he has to live with what he’s done. He also has to live with the fear of being found out. And this is the werewolf story I’ve been waiting for—although, dude, werewolf is not the preferred nomenclature. Half-breed or animal, please.
In so many stories that feature the wolf-creature trope, they’re relegated to supporting or ancillary roles. Or if the wolf is the focus, but the story is about the bite and transformation stage of development. And too often in recent pop culture, we’ve seen the sexy wolf. Here we get to see characters who have been living with their lupine affliction for many years, coping with it, and trying to be productive members of society in spite of it. There’s nothing sexy about what they do or how they live. It’s a gritty reality, and Doyle’s experiences in particular parallel with narratives of addiction or other kinds of illness in a heartbreaking way.
From a technical standpoint, there’s also a lot to like about the writing. All of the characters are multi-layered and richly realized. The dialogue is especially strong, popping and crackling in its tightness. It’s not a comedy by any means, but there are moments of humor, both dark and light, that hit the mark. The romantic subplots are crisp, never sappy or distracting. At the same time, the narrative does get a little overwrought in spots, especially in descriptive passages, but I think that’s a necessary side effect to create the kind of world that sticks to your palate the way this one does.
February 6, 2013
Despite its hideous cover, this was a great Crinos ( bipedal Wolf-headed ) Werewolf book. Unfortunatley, it had a little bit of X-rated stuff in it, but otherwise was very enjoyable. It's kinda dark, but a great horror story.
Displaying 1 - 2 of 2 reviews