Sharp Teeth, by Toby Barlow

After the wretched transformation of Beowulf to film, the time is ripe for a modern-day monster tale we can all read and imagine (rather than ruin with trite images). And try as I might to disassociate Toby Barlow’s debut novel from this timeless classic, Beowulf keeps coming to mind. Clearly, the title, Sharp Teeth, could have something to do with this. As could the subject matter: werewolves in Los Angeles. But beyond that, Sharp Teeth is written entirely in blank verse — an odd choice perhaps, but Barlow masters it so effortlessly that we hardly notice, except to feel its commanding flow hastening us forward through the multiple plotlines. Granted, Sharp Teeth offers no mead, but if you’ve read John Gardner’s Grendel — a rather nihilist monster-POV rendition of Beowulf — you’ll recognize the strangely non-heroic approach to an epic tale. As in Grendel, Barlow’s tale has no true heroes. There is no clear sense of right and wrong; there is only the gray in between, and how you choose to navigate it.

7 p.m., BirchBark Books and Native Arts, 2115 West 21st St., Minneapolis; 612-374-4023.