PRELUDES & APOCRYPHA

March’s novella, presented as an early 20th-century periodical, illuminates the origins of the wolf-men and werewomen living among humans.

It is the conceit of this work of fiction that, in 1906, publishers Octavius & Sons, Inc. released, in periodical form, the first installment in a planned series on lycanthropy. Only the first issue was printed, as the publishing company closed its doors shortly thereafter. The author sustains this premise by asserting that she herself is a Lupine (werewolf)—and the very writer of that Octavius & Sons magazine—who has amassed a collection of folklore and fables that shed light on the ancient history of her kind (“Her award-winning works ‘The Anatomist’ and ‘Talons Out! A Play in Ten Acts’ have achieved widespread acclaim. Now, she brings the ancient lore of her mysterious species to a wider audience”). Lupines have existed almost as long as humans; both, she asserts, are the creations of Mother Luna. Many of the writings in this novella revolve around the Lupines’ migration: Devastating war forces them out of their “once mighty Dominion,” and they voyage west for years until they find peace and solitude, at least for a time. March includes fables and fairy stories as well, including “The Curious Tale of Little Red Raging Hood,” a blatant but gleeful play on the popular fairy tale. The collection’s highlight, and its longest story, is “The Monster, the Mayor and the Merchant,” which acts as a cautionary tale for all. A colossal bear makes its way into the city of Lünaborg and terrifies residents, despite its gentle nature. Handling this so-called monster-bear sends Lünaborg’s mayor and a newly arrived merchant into unexpected directions.  

The book is skillfully styled, in terms of prose and structure, to resemble a publication more than a century old. The humor is pleasantly understated, as is the thinly veiled love/hate relationship between March and the book’s (Lupine dialect) translator, J. H. Archibald. In one of his notes, Archibald questions to what extent March’s storytelling strays from tradition, and she sardonically responds: “I just scribble whatever nonsense my werewoman’s fancies happen to surface and append it to this crude folklore.” As this book is succinct, these stories often feel like mere snippets of considerably longer works; indeed, Archibald references one of the Lupines’ “sprawling” sacred texts. While that may leave readers wanting more, there’s still plenty of material on the werewolves’ tribulations. They come across as relatable, as they have suffered murderous bigotry and must resist their very nature, including a seemingly insatiable appetite for flesh of the human variety. Perhaps the most discernible theme is the fear of the unknown; the startled reaction to the bear in Lünaborg stems solely from its size, and the mayor stokes citizens’ unease by claiming it’s a “foreign,” unpatriotic bear as local merchants exploit the giant beast’s notoriety. Illustrations invigorate the pages throughout, but Vulfolaic’s artwork in “Little Red Raging Hood” shines brightest: Black-and-white renderings of the cast and the ominous woods come alive with splashes or stark backdrops of brilliant red.

A clever, dynamic, and remarkable take on werewolf lore.