There are some books that you really didn't think were your type. Your genre. The kind of stuff you usually don't read and don't expect to read but then when you do end up reading a book outside your usual genre, it impresses the socks off you and reminds you that there are many more adventures to be had should you dare to step off the safe path.This was what reading Dust City felt like to me. I don't do anthropomorphic main characters. I really don't. But I love fairy tales and the synopsis won me over. Who wouldn't want to read about the son of the Big Bad Wolf who made dinner out of Red Riding Hood and her Grandmother? Does that premise not intrigue you? Because it intrigued me a whole hell of a lot.What I really loved about this book was how seamlessly popular characters of canonical fairytales were woven into the narrative. Snow White is a a detective, you guys. A detective! The heroine who has the LEAST amount of agency (next to Sleeping Beauty) is a detective who kicks ass! How awesome is that? These characters are so cleverly written into the story that part of the pleasure in reading this novel comes from deciphering who is who. Kudos to Mr. Weston for that.The other thing I really liked about this novel was its originality. It takes some pretty common elements and spins it into a tale that I bet none of you have ever dreamed up. It's like looking at the same world through a different set of lens. This is not to say that this book is perfect. I wasn't able to get over the distance that came from the fact that Henry is a wolf (albeit a talking, human type wolf) and I, the reader, am human. That just may be me though. But if you suspend your belief just enough, Dust City will impress you and make you look at fairytales in a different way.