There are two leaps to make to enjoy this adventure thriller. The author takes the effort to make the first leap an easy one. Early twentieth century exploration of an island where prehistoric creatures might dwell, sound familiar? Right away Jonah Buck acknowledges this and what it sounds very much like. Oh great Kong, what a shadow you cast. Simulative outlines are fine if done with appreciation and acknowledgement. First leap, easy.
Second leap, not so easy. It is 1925, hunters, bushmen and bushwomen, are gathered to capture a living specimen from the mysterious island. So far, so good. Mouths open and words spill forth.
I began to ponder the literacy rate of hunters in the year 1925 and how much hunters from all over the world would have a Wikipedia-like knowledge of foreign species, such vast vocabularies and how likely it would be that they almost always spoke in paragraph form (often multiple paragraphs strung together). There were very little differences between the characters and any differences, mostly Denise’s moral values, were pounded home repeatedly.
Now. With that out of the way, this story has a fantastic theme and the moonlit monstrosities were of the utmost fun. Right around the halfway point of this story, things kick and thrash. It becomes enthralling and wholly entertaining.
There’s an abundance of thrills, vein-spillage, gushy nastiness and awesome imagination. Toward the end a few seemingly tacked-on side stories attempt to humanize, these are detractors. Had this story sliced the fat of history lessons, moral decrees and attempts at touchy-feelies, Carrion Safari would be a freight train of rather pulpy goodness of a high degree.