Cute, anthropomorphic animal stories are not my thing.  I’ll tell you that right now.  They carry the scent of kindergarten, and it’s hard for me to take them seriously.

Exceptions exist (they always do).  There’s Watership Down, and Maus, and Animal Farm.  They use animals as symbols to comment on real world ideologies, history and events.  There’s a reason for the allegory, artistry in the metaphor.  But, having been done so well in the past, if you’re going to do it again, it better be brilliant.

"Beasts of New York" is not brilliant in the early chapters.  I’m going to read the whole thing (at which time, I will update this review) but thus far, I don’t see a reason why I should.

There’s nothing wrong with it, per se.  It reads more like a children’s novel in style, but if it’s labelled as such, I haven’t noticed.  The narrative voice comes across like an announcer on a children’s nature show, telling the reader about the life of a squirrel.  The author would be better off to really show the audience the instinctual behaviour and rugged life of his wild characters.

That is, if there’s a reason we need another cuddly animal story.

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