Review: Monster Hunter International, by Larry Correia

I’m coming to late to reviewing this one; I first Larry Correia’s Monster Hunter International a couple of years ago, and then again later, and then again this past week. Gosh, it’s a lot of fun. Occasionally horrific; frequently violent; and not at all to be take seriously.

We begin with accountant Owen Z. Pitt, who has arrived at work for a date with destiny…or, at least, with his evil pointy-haired-boss, who acquired an all-over case of hirsutism during a recent vacation in the north woods. Yes, the PHB’s a werewolf, and he’s hungry, and he’s going to do for all of those losers who have been looking down on him, starting with the low man the totem pole.

But Owen Pitt is perhaps the world’s most unusual accountant. The son of a Green Beret, he’s a veteran of shooting competitions and illegal cage matches and worked as a bouncer to get through college; he became an accountant so as to avoid having to kill people. But he’s armed and dangerous.

When he wakes up in the hospital, the Men in Black are waiting for him; lycanthropy is spread by bites, and if he’s got it, he’s toast. And if he doesn’t, he’s not to talk about to anyone, or the same thing will happen: toast. Extra crispy, no waiting.

Owen can’t wait to get back to normal…but then he’s contacted by an unusual outfit call Monster Hunter International who make a living collecting bounties on monsters of all sorts. And a little old Jewish man seems to have taken up residence in his head. And all-in-all, it seems he’d better gear up and get ready, because the monsters are coming.

It isn’t in any way politically correct, but it’s delightfully goofy despite the gore; you can think of it as a low-rent counterpart to Jim Butcher’s Dresden Files. (Beware the elves. Seriously. Don’t make ’em mad.)