I pile up my books by the bed on the floor. Half of them I’ve finished and haven’t reshelved.
The Last Werewolf by Glen Duncan (Knopf, 2011): Not only did I read it, I finished the sequel. The first book is narrated by an extremely erudite, loquacious 400-year-old werewolf. The text is dense, but savory. Not your average horror novel.
“The Undertaker’s dad died.”
“He wasn’t his real dad, just on TV. But he passed away.”
- actual conversation in my house