Kalix McRinnalch is 17, suffering from anxiety, depression and various other problems hardly uncommon among teenagers: strained relations with her flatmates, eating disorders, unpaid phone bills, heartbreak . . . And a couple of less common ones: she's addicted to laudanum, and a surprising number of people want to kill her, mainly because she's a werewolf.
In his introduction to one of Martin Millar's earlier novels, the classic Good Fairies of New York, Neil Gaiman looked back at his writing from the start and said `he was good, and then he got better'. I think the first Kalix novel, Lonely Werewolf Girl, was great, and this one, well, is greater. The characters I loved in Lonely Werewolf Girl are (mostly) back again, sometimes more fully developed, often funnier than last time. Relatively minor figures - like sweet, spoilt Agrivex, with her goth boots and Hello Kitty ankle socks - move to centre stage. Even the dreaded (and mostly incompetent) werewolf hunters of the Avenaris Guild become more eccentric and complicated. Who except Martin Millar could have invented an intellectually competitive, romantic werewolf hunter? Or an albino werewolf who happens to be a Latin scholar? However beleaguered, Kalix now has a home of sorts, the south London flat of students Daniel and Moonglow, and their domestic life provides some of the most hilarious, and also most tender moments. But there are more sub-plots than before, all perfectly managed, and a lot more drama, spreading out across the British Isles, from Camden warehouses to opera venues in Edinburgh, not to mention one or two other dimensions. Like Lonely Werewolf Girl, this is a long book. I wished it was longer still.