Have you ever wanted to read a story where an overweight, Steve Jobs knockoff gets explosive diarrhea in the jungle and then has his face eaten from the inside by a horde of prehistoric spiders?
Then this book probably isn’t for you.
In my case, from the very first chapter, I was All. In. It was like a lower-brow version of World War Z. I liked the many viewpoints, the world-wide scale, and the attempts at character development.
Along the way, I found I had to keep checking in with myself, to see if I really had the stamina to finish this delightfully ridiculous and creepy novel.
… Can I suspend my disbelief enough to accept that the President’s chief-of-staff’s ex-wife happens to be a world renowned arachnid scientist?
Sure, why not?!
… How about accepting that the world news would only really be invested in the lives of Western civilization in the event of a swarming, spider apocalypse?
… And finally, can I accept that these murderous eight-legged-spooky-bois somehow manage to make sucking and chewing noises as they devoured their unwilling victims?
I was thoroughly enjoying this rollicking insectoid bloodbath when, approximately 2/3 of the way through, I realised that this would not be a self-contained book. There was no way Boone could wrap in the story in the last act. I’m pretty sure this novel is setting up for the ultimate ridiculous final reveal… that SPIDERS KILLED THE DINOSAURS. Alas, I’m not actually so invested in this story as to rush out and buy Part 2 and Part 3 of this creepy-crawly trilogy. Had the ladies in the novel been a smidge less buxom and horny, and the lads been a little less wise-cracking, there are probably the bones of a genuine juggernaut here. I’ve seen the novel favourably compared to Jaws but… that’s stretch! But it was fun. It was fast-paced. It distracted me from the ills of the world for a few days.
4 throbbing eggsacks out of 5.