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A review by shonaningyo
The Last Werewolf by Glen Duncan
4.0
3.5 out of 5 stars
I rated it that based on two things: One, my enjoyment of the book was marred and hurt by the extreme 'literariness' of the book. It was beautifully written, but the fact that I couldn't follow or completely understand what Glen Duncan was attempting to convey with the English language put me off.
The English language is actually pretty flawed, when you think of it. Many different languages have a word or term for a specific thing or type of person or a weird event; the English language rarely, if not never, has that sort of thing occuring. And words that are meant to describe complicated emotions are equally complicated in their definition and rarely find themselves to be strung along in such a way that an average reader could understand. That's what frustrates me about this book.
I could not decipher around 1/5th of what this book was trying to describe and 'paint' in terms of the inner musings of Jake, the protagonist. It was almost to the point where I thought about abandoning this book, because, though I am well-versed in the English language and can easily grasp things I am interested in, reading the ramblings of a werewolf who has lived a long life and has made it his mission to describe to the reader in flowery language his thoughts of everything around him with a sense of sardonic, detached nihilism is not my cup of tea.
It did read like an 18th century novel, though, which the back of my copy had expressly warned me it would be. I was not disappointed; it was more thoughtful than most books I've read, and since it was written during this time, I was lucky to find this to be a believable story and not the work of a pretentious writer who thinks they're hot shit because they write in this fashion in this current time period.
The story itself was rife with Jake's potent sexuality and extremely high libido, which all werewolf and vampire fans have suspected (correctly) they possess. I didn't bat an eye at his dropping the 'cunt' and 'cock' bombs so casually; with the narrator being a 400 year + werewolf, things such as modesty are just an aesthetic he couldn't care less about.
The action and progression of the book was written so that ... it's hard to explain. You had to read the book very closely or you'd miss something important... here's an excerpt as an example:
Glen Duncan's ideas and personal spin on the werewolf's senses, transformation, and the thoughts and sensations while in werewolf form and when about to transform are unique and interesting to read; it's as if these are text book thoughts and memories of a true-to-life werewolf, and I commend him for that.
I rated it that based on two things: One, my enjoyment of the book was marred and hurt by the extreme 'literariness' of the book. It was beautifully written, but the fact that I couldn't follow or completely understand what Glen Duncan was attempting to convey with the English language put me off.
The English language is actually pretty flawed, when you think of it. Many different languages have a word or term for a specific thing or type of person or a weird event; the English language rarely, if not never, has that sort of thing occuring. And words that are meant to describe complicated emotions are equally complicated in their definition and rarely find themselves to be strung along in such a way that an average reader could understand. That's what frustrates me about this book.
I could not decipher around 1/5th of what this book was trying to describe and 'paint' in terms of the inner musings of Jake, the protagonist. It was almost to the point where I thought about abandoning this book, because, though I am well-versed in the English language and can easily grasp things I am interested in, reading the ramblings of a werewolf who has lived a long life and has made it his mission to describe to the reader in flowery language his thoughts of everything around him with a sense of sardonic, detached nihilism is not my cup of tea.
It did read like an 18th century novel, though, which the back of my copy had expressly warned me it would be. I was not disappointed; it was more thoughtful than most books I've read, and since it was written during this time, I was lucky to find this to be a believable story and not the work of a pretentious writer who thinks they're hot shit because they write in this fashion in this current time period.
The story itself was rife with Jake's potent sexuality and extremely high libido, which all werewolf and vampire fans have suspected (correctly) they possess. I didn't bat an eye at his dropping the 'cunt' and 'cock' bombs so casually; with the narrator being a 400 year + werewolf, things such as modesty are just an aesthetic he couldn't care less about.
The action and progression of the book was written so that ... it's hard to explain. You had to read the book very closely or you'd miss something important... here's an excerpt as an example:
"...Jake in a reverie at a stately pace, yes, but with aura madly vigilant, trip-switched, motion-sensored, hair-triggered, so that when the figure launched itself from the trees' murk I was ludicrously ready.
It happened to me very fast, the reversal..."
Glen Duncan's ideas and personal spin on the werewolf's senses, transformation, and the thoughts and sensations while in werewolf form and when about to transform are unique and interesting to read; it's as if these are text book thoughts and memories of a true-to-life werewolf, and I commend him for that.