To read or not to read...
Today's book is by a most famous gothic author, best known for their vampires stories. Making a return to the horror genre, this novel is the first of a strange and mythic imagining of the world of wolfen powers. It tells the story of a young man who is attacked and turns into a werewolf, and his subsequent exhilarating journey of being and becoming both wolf and man.
To read or not to read.. that is the question! Read the opening paragraphs below and then you can decide whether to keep reading...
Reuben was a tall man, well over six feet, with curly brown hair and deep set blue eyes. “Sunshine Boy” was his nickname, and he hated it; so he tended to suppress what the world called an irrepressible smile. But he was a little too happy right now to put on his studious expression, and try to look older than his twenty three years.
He was walking up a steep hill in the fierce ocean wind with an exotic and elegant older woman named Marchent Nideck and he really loved all she was saying about the big house on the cliff. She was lean, with a narrow beautifully sculpted face, and that kind of yellow hair that never fades. She wore it straight back from her forehead in a soft wavy swinging bob that curled under just above her shoulders. He loved the picture she made in her long brown knit dress and high polished brown boots.
He was doing a story for the San Francisco observer on the giant house and her hopes of selling it now that the estate had at last been settled , and her great uncle felix had been declared officially dead. The man had been gone for twenty years, but his will had just been opened, and the house left to Marchent, his niece.
They’d been walking the forested slopes of the property since Reuben arrived visiting a ramshackle old guesthouse and the ruin of a barn. They’d followed old roads and old paths lost in the brush, and now and then come out to a rocky ledge above the cold iron coloured Pacific, only to duck back quickly into the sheltered and damp world of gnarled oak and bracken.
Reuben wasn’t dressed for this really. He’d driven north in his usual uniform of worsted wool blue blazer over a thin cashmere sweater, and gray slacks. But at least he had a scarf his neck that he’d pulled from the glove compartment. And he really didn’t mind the biting cold.
To keep reading this book, request it from the Library.
