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Editorial Review For The Wreckoning
This book kicks things off with a goat sock and a text message that would make your HR department clutch its pearls. From there, things only spiral deeper into chaos, absurdity, and more than one questionable bathroom encounter. The Wreckoning strings together a wild set of stories featuring two main threads: one about a guy named Mario dragged into an apocalyptic nightclub brawl with ex-KGB dominatrixes, and another about Max, a 500-year-old vegan werewolf who’s trying to keep his family safe from religious murder cults. Not kidding. Under all the splatter and screaming, you’ll find themes of friendship, identity, loyalty, grief, and the burden of living more lives than one guy should be allowed to.
The book’s strength lies in its full-throttle storytelling. It doesn’t hold back. The voice is sharp, dark, and soaked in sarcasm. The dialogue moves fast and is laced with insults, heavy metal references, and moments of strange tenderness. The action doesn’t just escalate—it careens. If you came for subtle, this ain’t your ride. But the writing is self-aware and surprisingly disciplined underneath all the carnage and filth. The chaos is calculated. Even the dick jokes are choreographed.
This kind of writing isn’t floating alone in space. Think Trainspotting meets Metalocalypse with a side of grindhouse. The book rides the line between horror, satire, sci-fi, and absurdism. It fits in with a growing trend of genre mashups that throw respectability out the window and replace it with fire, blood, and punchlines. There’s also an undercurrent of real loss and some philosophical pokes if you squint past the flying limbs.
People who will enjoy The Wreckoning? Anyone sick of the literary beige. If you’re into horror that doesn’t pretend to be polite, or you’ve ever wondered what it would be like if Slayer wrote a memoir, this might be for you. It’s especially good for readers who like their storytelling unfiltered, their humor sharp, and their werewolves pissed off.
This book is unhinged in all the ways it means to be. It doesn’t try to behave, and thank god for that. Read it if you’re ready for something that feels like a car crash soundtracked by Motörhead—awful, loud, unforgettable, and somehow exactly what you needed.