Monster Hunter International

So a friend passed me a copy of Monster Hunter International, by Larry Correia, and told me it was good fun; and it was. Our hero, one Owen Pitt, is a mild-mannered accountant until the day his boss turns into a werewolf and tries to have him for dinner. Unfortunately for the boss, Owen is enormous, fit, a gun nut, and the son of a Green Beret, even though it’s against company policy he’s armed, as any good Texan should be. And when he recovers from his wounds he’s recruited by Monster Hunter International, a little firm in Alabama that specializes in hunting down the forces of darkness and claiming the PUFF bounty first instituted by Teddy Roosevelt. Naturally, there’s a beautiful girl who’s a first class shot, and a plethora (one might even say a superfluity) of zombies, ghouls, wights, and vampires, and my favorite bit, a little old Jewish man who lives in Owen’s head. Oh, and…elves. And guns. Lots and lots of guns, including one that shoots dreidel cartridges.

The book’s entertaining, fluffy, and only marginally horrific, and reminded me of nothing so much as a (much) lighter version of Jonathan Maberry’s Joe Ledger series. Apparently it’s the first in a series; I dunno whether I’ll get the others or not.