Sharp Teeth: A Novel

by Toby Barlow

There is no document of civilization that is not at the same time a document of barbarism.

“You can’t trust anyone else for your strength, you’ve got to find it inside yourself.”

there are still some watchful creatures whose essence lies unbound by words. There is still a wilderness.

Lycanthropes first came out of the native tribes in the Northwest, born, legends say, from a native thirst for a superior warrior.

Words, the small weak things that come tumbling out of men.

Everyone is always looking in the wrong direction, we worry about our lovers while losing our jobs we stress out about cancer while our children run away we ponder the stars while burning the earth.

What would you do to protect the love you have? Would you kill? Would you hunt to kill? Would you kill without mercy? And if you wouldn’t then how precious is your love?

Ultimately, she says, she was just a magician trying to perform the greatest escape.

So inevitable seems the coexistence of man and dog that, according to an ancient North American Indian myth, the Great Creator in the Sky was already accompanied by a dog when he created earth and man.

Not for the first time, it occurs to him that white folks seem to have a corner on the cruel and unusual.