Superficially the plot here is simple: a young man casually allows a woman he has picked up at a party to move in with him. He soon discovers that she is a werewolf. This is, obviously, a little awkward, both personally and because they are in an apartment building and she keeps eating their neighbors' pets.

This is Beagle, so naturally the writing is fairly good, if dated in that way that only the 1970s seem to date. There is a lot of personality conveyed quite briefly, and some clever lines: If I break up with her now, she'll think I'm doing it because she's a werewolf. It's awkward, it feels nasty and middle-class. I should have broken up with her the first time I met her mother, or the second time she served the eggplant. or Lila's shrink says she has a rejection thing, very deep-seated... Listen, I've done some things that I'm not proud of, but I don't want to mess up anyone's analysis.

But because this is Beagle, who I associate with my childhood — and obviously this is my issue, not his — it's a little...uncomfortable. Yeah, that's the word. I love you, Peter S. Beagle, but I'm just not comfortable hearing you talk about sex. Especially not sex with dogs. Wait till the kids leave the room, please.