Flossing Sharp Teeth

I just finished reading Sharp Teeth by Toby Barlow, and boy oh boy what a great book. It’s like nothing I ever read before, a horror thriller written in free verse. In fact, the style is what really makes this book unique. After the first few pages, you hardly even notice it anymore. Some of it reminds me of James Frey, that stream of consciousness writing, but it’s very lyrical at times:

There’s blood everywhere,
but it’s the creatures at the edge,
licking the corner of the ruby pool,
that hold your curiosity.
So get this straight
it’s not the full moon.
That’s as ancient and ignorant as any myth.
The blood just quickens with a thought
a discipline develops
so that one can self-ignite
reshaping form, becoming something rather more canine
still conscious, a little hungrier.
It’s a raw muscular power,
a rich sexual energy
and the food tastes a whole lot better.

As well as suspenseful:

Closing her eyes and breathing deep, concentrating,
she can now hear
the dog’s soft breath just outside the door.
She measures this moment, weighing the fear and
the quickening sense of desperation,
knowing that no matter what happens next,
so much is ending.
She times her moves fast, sliding the gun out,
squinting deep for the moment that is ripe to explode
one, two, three—
she pulls open the door full and fast
falling back as sure enough
the dog lunges in fierce and snarling.
So first
she fires one very loud bullet directly
into the dog’s skull
sending him down empty and sudden.
Then, as the delivery girl leaps
over, screaming shrill,
she jams the pistol
into that open shout of a mouth
and pulls the trigger again.

Granted, the book won’t appeal to every reader, both in form and subject … though who can’t resist werewolves in Los Angeles? I know I can’t.