Water Your Mind

Occasionally, I look around at the library shelves full of books and think “It’s all been done. The writing can stop now. All of the ideas are taken.”  But I’m happy to report I’m consistently proved wrong.

For instance: Sharp Teeth by Toby Barlow. It’s a werewolf novel written entirely in verse. Epic verse isn’t new, of course. And werewolf novels are everywhere right now. But a combination of the two? I had to read it, figuring it couldn’t be mediocre; it had to be either completely terrible or really, really good. I consider the book a success on all counts. Barlow gets the balance right, sacrificing neither the fiction nor the poetry aspect.

It works as a novel, with engaging characters and a multi-layered plot. It has love and life and death and power plays and redemption and vengeance and star-crossed lovers, all wrapped up in the story of rival werewolf packs competing  for dominance in the Los Angeles area.

It works as poetry, the choice of words and meter striking the place in you where poetry strikes, while keeping the story flowing.  Example: “At night he lies down on the benches and contemplates/ the deception of starlight, long dead suns making small lights/ almost bright enough to guide the way.”

It’s so nice to come across something fresh, a reminder that we humans are endlessly creative. And it’s great to see a writer following his own vision and making it work. I’m thinking of writing conferences where authors gather to ask what editors are looking for these days. Nobody ever answers “Werewolf poetry.”  But maybe they should.