Lacking real bite - 2 star

The last Werewolf as the title implies is about...well...the last werewolf. Jake Marlowe has wandered the world for a long long time pursued by an organisation dedicated to the destruction of the lycanthorpe, referred to as WOCOP “World organisation for the control of occult Phenomena” Once every month when the full moon shines the change from man to beast occurs…”Shoulders, wrists, ankles - first to change, last to change back...the not toenails, not quite claws….invisible hands gripped my neck and twisted in opposite directions...my lupine twin was impatient, a being was no good without a body. The slow hindquarters tested his tolerance of delay and mine of pain….my new skull shuddered and my bowels disencumbered themselves...It was still him and me but we eyed each other knowing everything depended on bridging the gap. Cooperation would come the two strands would plait so that we would become I, but it was his birthright to take the inaugural moment by force”......It is at times easy to have sympathy with Jake, his plight, and I suppose it could be said that those who wish his destruction do so out of fear, knowing that what they cannot understand and control should be destroyed. Yet equally the werewolf is indiscriminate in his choice of victim and as Jake himself acknowledged…”Once a month I transformed into a monster, part man part wolf. I killed and devoured humans starting with my wife” So in reality an out of control killing machine needed to be destroyed. The questions of purpose and existence posed little in the way of answers…..”Where did it all fit in? Was my species God’s handiwork or the Devil’s?....What would happen to me when I died? Had I still a soul? Where and when did werewolves begin?

Marlowe’s life becomes more tolerable when he discovers a female companion, Talulla. Together they flee as those who would destroy them tighten their grip and once again great questions of existence become paramount….”I don’t know where the universe came from or what happens to creatures when they die. I don’t know if the whole thing’s an unravelling accident or an inscrutable design. I don’t know how one should live- but I know that one should live, if one can possibly bear it, You love life because life’s all there is. And I only know that because I happen to have found - again- love”....

The language in The Last Werewolf is at times poetic, insightful even shrewd in its sharp observations and yet the rich lyrical quality of the prose often leads to disorientation and bewilderment making it at times difficult to comprehend as the reader becomes lost and adrift in a sea of words…………