“Fuck, kill, eat!” So says Jacob Marlow is the mantra of the lycanthrope, and this is his story. The biography of the last werewolf, sought after by the members of WOCOP, who have taken out, one at a time, the rest of his kind.
This is not a “sparkly” werewolf story full of cuteness and pretty creatures. Its a gritty story about a suicidal werewolf that has lived too long, or so he thinks.
I found myself both liking and being annoyed with this book. Most of my annoyance was at an excessive wordiness and a need to exhibit that he knew a lot of big words. As much as I appreciate the English language and the massive pool of words that can be pulled from, the fact is that it begins to come across as an insecure need to prove oneself when you overuse large and elaborate words. Its also writing down to your readership