Imagine, if you will, a novel. One that has the generational literary scope of John Irving. The intricate depth and acute attention to detail of Peter Straub. An unconventional family that could have been dreamed up by a harsher Anne Tyler. The terrifying psychological horror of Dan Chaon.
Consider all of that, then read Adam Rapp's Wolf at the Table. It's even better than you dreamed it could be.
The novel begins in Elmira, New York. We are introduced to the Larkin family. Mother is a stern Catholic disciplinarian and her machinist husband carries psychic scars from World War II. There are five children:
Myra, the sturdy one, the dependable one, the predictable oldest child. Myra endlessly strives to do what's right, but happiness is an unachievable goal.
Lexie is the perfect one, the suburbanite with the ideal husband and cookie cutter McMansion.
Fiona, the would-be bohemian, is the rebel, who chases her dreams, but always finds them to be elusive.
Alec, the ex-alter boy, is the troubled one, a drifter who ekes out a wretched life of petty crime and excessive living.
Joan is the mentally damaged daughter who requires constant care.
A sixth child, little Archibald, died as an infant, but continues to haunt the Larkins.
The biggest specter in the Larkin family is a chord of hereditary insanity with potential for violence and murder.
Wolf at the Table is a vast tapestry of the damned American dream, a devastating portrait of a fractured family harboring a ghastly secret across a sixty-year landscape of a country riddled with violence and shame.
I dropped some heavy names at the top of this review, but I truly think Wolf at the Table is as good as the writers I listed. It's still early January, but this masterpiece will be a serious contender for the best book I read in 2025. It's better than anything I read last year, and probably the year before that.
Don't you love it when you find a book that really knocks your socks off? One that defines you as a reader and a human being. It doesn't happen often. A handful of times in a lifetime of intense reading. Adam Rapp's Wolf at the Table is such a book.
Written by Mark Sieber
Consider all of that, then read Adam Rapp's Wolf at the Table. It's even better than you dreamed it could be.

Myra, the sturdy one, the dependable one, the predictable oldest child. Myra endlessly strives to do what's right, but happiness is an unachievable goal.
Lexie is the perfect one, the suburbanite with the ideal husband and cookie cutter McMansion.
Fiona, the would-be bohemian, is the rebel, who chases her dreams, but always finds them to be elusive.
Alec, the ex-alter boy, is the troubled one, a drifter who ekes out a wretched life of petty crime and excessive living.
Joan is the mentally damaged daughter who requires constant care.
A sixth child, little Archibald, died as an infant, but continues to haunt the Larkins.
The biggest specter in the Larkin family is a chord of hereditary insanity with potential for violence and murder.
Wolf at the Table is a vast tapestry of the damned American dream, a devastating portrait of a fractured family harboring a ghastly secret across a sixty-year landscape of a country riddled with violence and shame.
I dropped some heavy names at the top of this review, but I truly think Wolf at the Table is as good as the writers I listed. It's still early January, but this masterpiece will be a serious contender for the best book I read in 2025. It's better than anything I read last year, and probably the year before that.
Don't you love it when you find a book that really knocks your socks off? One that defines you as a reader and a human being. It doesn't happen often. A handful of times in a lifetime of intense reading. Adam Rapp's Wolf at the Table is such a book.
Written by Mark Sieber
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