That title is a lie. I love this book. It’s self-aware and self-deprecating without an ounce of self-mocking. It is serious and urgent. It does that thing that you hear about in all undergrad literature classes — teaches us about the unmentionable monsters in ourselves by creating a tangible monster we can bear to look at. Glen Duncan’s The Last Werewolf is smart, and has made me second guess all of the other books I’ve overlooked because of that innate snobbery that comes with an expensive English degree. (Not for too long, don’t worry.)
All jokes aside, it’s a great reminder that topic and genre really have nothing to do with the quality of a book. It’s the writer’s capacity for life, for imagination, and for language. And let me tell you, Duncan’s capacity exceeds expectation.
What books have broken stereotypes or lived beyond your expectations lately?
Update: After posting this link to Facebook, a friend shared a link to this article — How Zombies and Superheroes Conquered Highbrow Fiction.