Le hurlement du loup: a short review of "The Howing"

The Howling by Gary Brandner

My rating: 3 of 5 stars

The Howling, published in 1977, is the first book in a werewolf trilogy and is probably remembered for the B-movie of the same name which unleashed a string of sequels in the 80s.

It harks back to a time when horror novels were lean, mean and unafraid to use lurid images on their front covers. Bastard children of the pulp magazines from the 50s, these potboilers had no literary pretences. They probably catered to a mostly male teen demographic, offering up salacious kicks and fast plotlines meant to be devoured in a few sittings.

I found my copy ofThe Howling in a dusty charity shop in St Leonards-on-Sea during the Easter break of 2015, alongside its sequel Return of the Howling, and I just couldn’t help myself. I’m a fan of these old novels (including science fiction ones) – most are completely rubbish but there’s always a little hope inside of me when I spot them: will I find something unique? Will it be a hidden gem?

The novel opens with the heroine, Karyn, enduring one of the most violent rape scenes I’ve ever seen in print (only losing to The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo). Although the perpetrator is caught, Karyn’s husband Roy thinks it’s better if they move out of the city, where she can get some peace and quiet and properly heal. Unfortunately, Roy chooses a cabin near the small village of Drago, where visitors tend to disappear on full moon nights.

With Roy spending a lot of time in the big city, Karyn is left to discover the village on her own. She soon realises that someone – or something – has been vising her cabin at night, and that nobody in the village believes there’s anything wrong.

If you like your thrills quick, gory and a little campy, look no further.

View all my reviews