The Wolfen

Canis Lupus Sapiens. The Wolfen, or werewolves, are the spine of an unlikely horror thriller that is nonetheless smashingly likable and filled with enough wolf lore to satisfy Farley Mowat. According to Strieber, they're living right in Manhattan, packs and packs of them! Normally the Central Park pack preys on old, defenseless folks who can be eaten whole and won't be missed. When two young policemen are unwisely slain, Detective George Wilson and lady Detective Becky Neff are assigned the case. Soon the werewolves know that Wilson and Becky are out to expose them, and they in turn begin hunting the detectives. Wilson, 54, and 34-year-old Becky (she's married to a cop on the take but may be falling for Wilson, who loves her) are on the run from the incredibly fast werewolves, but at the same time they're preparing a trap. By the way, these werewolves are not men turned into wolves; they are a completely separate species with almost human faces, handlike claws, and superhuman intelligence resulting from fantastic powers of smell and hearing. Superbloodhounds, they can track anyone on just a few molecules of odor from anywhere in the city. They are a marvelous alien intelligence whose main job is to remain unseen by the stupid human beings who have pro provided such a vast stockyard of free food. Strieber loves his wolves and applies his lore with intense skill. He's also brainy about humans and provides flat, funny, authentic dialogue that keeps us hanging onto every word. Sympathy for werewolves makes a horror-happy winner! (Kirkus Reviews)