The febrile, all-consuming bloodlust is nicely captured in the final book of Glen Duncan's horror trilogy
Duncan's iconoclastic horror trilogy began with The Last Werewolf. Now we're in volume three, and there are scores of the ravenous shapeshifters, wrestling with the moral and practical difficulties of man-eating, plus – in Talulla's case – family life. Talulla has two wild young children and a partner she doesn't love, as well as a vampire who haunts her dreams. Remshi is the oldest bloodsucker in existence and – despite living the kind of pampered life that centuries of wise investment can buy – he has his own existential angst to deal with. Duncan's books mix literary allusions (Browning's "Childe Roland") with sex, violence and very human emotions. He moves Remshi, Talulla and his supporting cast between countries and confrontations at quite a pace, weaving in ancient texts, paedophiles and plenty of booze, and every few chapters are punctuated by an assault from a bible-bashing, gun-swinging hit squad – the Catholic church. The febrile, all-consuming bloodlust is nicely captured, although the book never quite hits the intellectual or emotional heights to which it aspires.
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