It is one long poem, free verse, the entire novel, broken up into chapters. It works. And it gives some interesting insights into werewolves. One can never know one's foe too well. I am reminded of Patton having read Rommel's book on armor warfare, and that having been a factor in Patton's being able to defeat Rommel in North Africa.
I am no poet, but I know what I like. And the poetry that makes up this story is amazing. If it were written in prose I do not think it would have the same power. It howls in this form. Yes, that's a nod to Ginsberg. I think he would approve.
There are some glaring fictional liberties. One is the tendency of the werewolves in the book to kill and eat their opponents. And I mean all of them, every bit of skin, fur, gut and bone. Now come on. I'm a weredog. I have a big appetite, and I never heard of such a thing. I once knew a weredog named Drok. He was an enormous Ovcharski weredog. He stood over seven feet tall in weredog form, and was nearly as wide. I once saw him polish off three slabs of ribs, at one of our grand pack meetings. But he could not move for an hour. And he left half the bones. Anyway I guess it works for the story.
I am curious if the author, Toby Barlow, is a werewolf, or just the tool of werewolves. We'll have to have someone look into that.
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