Obviously I can’t review a book I’ve not finished, and I didn’t get very far into this one at all. Every time my innards are cheering for a werewolf novel to be amazing, it never fails to let me down. Maybe my expectations are far too high.
In this instance, I had to put Lonely Werewolf Girl aside when a werewolf, in wolf form, took a phone call. Sadly I kid you not. I was already wavering when the wolves were talking to each other in wolf form, but actually picking up a phone and chatting..that just made it so, so much worse. And in fairness up until that point I’d been enjoying the story, but there are some Cardinal Sins within the genre for me that just can’t be forgiven.
Come to think of it, I’ve never been completely blown away by a werewolf novel. And I really, really want to be. I didn’t mind the Armstrong series, and I thought Duncan’s The Last Werewolf was pretty decent. But aside from those, I’ve only ever found endless piles of either mediocrity or silliness.
If anyone has any recommendations for strong Werewolf fiction, I’m all ears, believe me. And if anyone suggests Mercy Thompson, I might just let out a howl or two of my own. Seriously. Don’t get me started.