Wolves and humans have a long and deeply interconnected history spanning many thousands of years. At times symbiotic, and in others, violent and devastatingly out of balance. While researching my third book, Headlights, I found myself deeply entrenched in readings on wolf reintroduction politics, systems ecology, and the history of humans and wolves sharing this planet. I learned about the vital role this keystone species plays in our ecosystems, and it shifted my perspective on much about life.
I’ve personally always been drawn to wolves more than other (non-human) animals, for their pack dynamics, their loyalty, and their wild freedom. They’re playful, tenacious, and while very much of this earth, seem to also somehow know more than we do about what might lurk on the other side. But once I started to really learn our role in their eradication, and their role in our shared ecosystems, I felt a new understanding of the importance of wolves themselves, and educating ourselves about them and our shared history. And sometimes education can even just start with appreciation.
Wolves have been painted in literature as our villains for far too long. These five horror books below challenge, or at least heavily complicate, the narrative. While all of these books are in some way about wolves, ultimately, they all really just show us what it is to be human. Which is what great writing is about, horror or otherwise. And also what wolves, if we gave them the respect and lives they deserve, might very well give us too.
Mongrels by Stephen Graham Jones
There’s a reason Stephen Graham Jones is one of the first names always mentioned in any conversation around horror. The guy is just brilliant, and Mongrels is certainly no exception. His work paints a portrait of often fractured American life, but his characters always carry such a zest, vitality, and doggedness (forgive me), that the stories, even while extremely dark, also feel uplifting. Mongrels follows a family of three who exist on the fringes, are constantly on the run, and all of them are wondering if the (unnamed) young man protagonist will, like his kin, soon turn into a werewolf. It’s a question of what kind of person he will become, who he wants to be, and where he wants to exist in this imperfect landscape. A sometimes gritty, sometimes gentle, sometimes absolutely brutal coming-of-age story about family, identity, living on the run, navigating poverty, and existing on the outer edges of American life. You will never read a more original take on the werewolf transformation and the rules surrounding it than this one, and I for one will never unsee a lot of those images (the pantyhose! Ahh!). At once frightening, painful, and heartwarming, this book is really something special and is one I’ve returned to over the years. It shows that we can all do so much better to take care of each other, especially those who society has routinely failed.
Such Sharp Teeth by Rachel Harrison
Rachel Harrison really is that girl. She delivers every single time, a bullseye shot to the target. Like it’s crazy. I love every one of her books, but this one hit me somewhere especially deep. It reaches the deeply uncomfortable depths of real rage, of living with injustice, of the terrible never-quite-healed wounds of abuse, and with family dynamics that feel almost too real, complex, and so thoughtfully, emotionally rendered. Rory—self-sufficient, strong because she has to be, and with the signature unbeatable Rachel Harrison main character biting wit—returns to her hometown to help her sister, and is suddenly attacked by a werewolf in the woods. Throughout the book, she is forced to confront the trauma of her recent attack, her even more traumatic past and those involved in it, and also the fact that she now routinely has to deal with transforming into a werewolf (and naturally going keto in the process… heavy on the hot dogs). The book is about the pain of facing your past and trying to come to terms with the (sometimes really shitty) hand you were dealt in life. Or maybe just learning how to keep on in spite of it. I love these characters. I love this book. I think it should be required reading… certainly for anyone with parents, or siblings, or unresolved hurts weighing you down. Certainly just for everyone.
The Bloody Chamber by Angela Carter
No one writes sentences as ecstatic, decadent, deliriously supple, exquisite, life-affirming (I could go on forever!), as Angela Carter did. Her stories will throw you from your seat and make you want to beat your fists against the floor and leave you wailing for more. They will very likely awaken something strange and sensual in you that you didn’t know was there and that, once awakened, will never go dormant again. And they are some of the most empowering, feminist, feral, wild, and wonderful stories I’ve ever read. This collection of horrific (very) dark folktale retellings ends with three wolf stories, The Werewolf, The Company of Wolves, and Wolf-Alice, all of which are brutal and magnificent, and have lingered with me ever since I first read them. The Werewolf and The Company of Wolves both turn the Red Riding Hood narrative upside down, one in bloodier, and one in more sensual ways. Both shocked me. I’ll never forget the first time I read The Company of Wolves, and I think it may have been one of the early moments I thought perhaps I’d like to try and become a writer myself. Wolf-Alice follows a girl raised by wolves who lives an entirely feral existence until she enters the man-made indoor world and ties together the rest of the anthology in the most incredibly satisfying way. There’s such glorious permission and ferocity in Carter’s stories. The world is so lucky to have her work, and I only wish we had more.
When the Wolf Comes Home by Nat Cassidy
Nat Cassidy is a genius, and we all know it by now (if you don’t, seriously, where have you been?!). But this book, This Book! This book is so painfully beautiful and is one of the most incredible explorations of fear–both childlike and that which carries with us into adulthood–that I have ever encountered in fiction, or in life. It explores our fear of the known, the unknown, and the deeply misunderstood. When struggling actress Jess finds a young boy hiding from his terrifying father, she helps him escape, only to realize the horrors keep following them… or might even be much closer than she realized. It’s about our relationships to our parents, to our kids, to who we are as people, and perhaps most importantly, to fear itself. Nat Cassidy writes with such heart and care, and somehow makes his readers feel profound hope even in the darkest spaces. When the Wolf Comes Home is unlike anything you’ve ever read (and I am trying very hard not to spoil anything in it!), and I can’t recommend it enough. Don’t look up anything more, just go read! I guarantee by the end of it, any part of you that feels misunderstood or alone in this world will feel a little more healed, and seen. That’s the true power of this book, and I believe in it wholeheartedly. Nat might just save us all.
With Teeth, edited by Cassandra Celia
There is really something for everyone in this epic collection of short stories, poems, and visual art, all centered on wolves. Nearly every possible genre is accounted for here. With some stories asking us to question the external versus internal and what is real (my favorite has to do with a wolf appearing in a gas station beer cave), some existing squarely in horror with terrifying suspense and transformations, and some even stretching fully into scifi and fantasy worlds with alternate reality human and wolf origin stories and some pretty fascinating adventures. And many gorgeous poems and drawings. The diversity of narrative in this collection is pretty astounding. Throughout all the work though, is a deep and insistent respect for wolves. Proposals for how we might interact, for how we might adjust our thinking, for how we might look inward in order to understand the outward. This anthology is a timely and much-needed celebration of our relationship with wolves, and an exploration of the many ways their lives and ours can, and do, intersect. And if that’s not reason enough to read it, a portion of the proceeds benefit the Lakota Wolf Preserve, and with so many wonderful contributors, you’ll have plenty of new wolf-loving writers and artists to dive into.
All of these books feel to me like amber eyes peaking out from between the trees, like paws padding the earth, wind ruffling fur beneath wide open skies. Chills and fear and curiosity and hope and recognition. And wonder. I hope you enjoy them all, and perhaps even might feel inspired to learn a little more about these misunderstood creatures. And I hope at the end of it, that you find a little new wildness in yourself… perhaps even the urge to occasionally throw your head back and howl.
And maybe, across the expanse of our shared, intricately and vitally interconnected landscape, I’ll howl right along with you.
Buy the Book
Headlights
Started to read Cassidy and quit right when it got interesting , I suppose, but way too bloody. Reality is bad enough.
But he is a good writer if you like that sort of thing.
My parents had an Alaskan timber wolf. Lovely animal. Basically he was a large, almost untrainable dog. He adored my father.
Ha this unlocked a core memory. A college vet-student friend had a “half-wolf” (apparently the state we lived in only allowed a pet to be 50% wolf)…one time we returned to her place after going to lunch to find a decimated couch. Lifelong dog owner and I’ve still never seen anything remotely like it. This animal had taken her poor couch down to it’s wooden frame. There was cushion foam in every room of her house.
The only other thing I remember was its enormous feet.
As you say: large, untrainable dogs. Which has direct consequences for any “owner”.
Our wolf ate every part of the couch except the frame and the springs. When he was old enough, my father built him a doghouse and banished him to a large outdoor pen. He dug a den under the doghouse.
I love werewolves when done correctly (I’ll confess to having a lot of opinions about that — none of that “pack” stuff, please!) — but I’ve also always been a little wary of horror, so “Mongrels” has sat on my Kobo unread for quite a while. This is a good nudge to reach for it.
I did read “Such Sharp Teeth” and liked it, although toward the end of the novel, I’d have enjoyed more discussion of the logistics of becoming a werewolf, which is one of my favorite gimmicks of the genre. Who’s on duty with a backup plan in case the full moon doesn’t go as expected? Do you plan holidays around transformations, or do you find a spot somewhere on a deserted beach? And how’s all this going to affect your retirement plan? Rory’s going to have a lot to think about.
Okay, it’s cheating to cite Angela Carter’s short story collection “The Bloody Chamber” as either horror or a novel. But this can be forgiven because…Angela Carter.