Review of "Megalodon" by Ethan Richards

​Score: 92+/100 (9.2+ out of 10)

Megalodon is another thrilling creature feature by Ethan Richards!

Let's face it: there are few prehistoric creatures who have gone more viral and meme-worthy in recent years than the megalodon. This SUPER SHARK has become a pop culture juggernaut. It has become the stuff of documentaries, clickbait debates, oversized shark graphics, and "what if it still existed?" nightmares. It is one of those extinct animals that somehow still feels weirdly alive in the public imagination. So, taking on a creature like this comes with both a built-in advantage and a built-in risk. The advantage is obvious: people are already fascinated by it. The risk is that the concept can easily become cheesy, repetitive, or just an excuse for shallow spectacle.

Thankfully, Ethan Richards does not just give readers a giant shark chomping random people for 200 pages and call it a day.

This book has actual atmosphere. It has tension. It has blood in the water, yes, but it also has paranoia, corporate secrecy, ecological dread, and a strong sense that something is deeply wrong long before the full scale of the horror becomes clear. We appreciated that the novel does not merely present the megalodon as a large animal with a big bite radius. It presents it more like an event. A force. An ecosystem-level nightmare that distorts the behavior of everything around it. That angle gives the book more weight than a standard B-movie creature feature.

One of the smartest things this novel does is build intrigue before fully cashing in on the monster. The early material involving unusual bull shark behavior, strange migration patterns, and the sense that even apex predators are afraid creates a strong "uh oh" effect. The book understands that anticipation matters. A monster is often more effective when readers first feel its shadow before they fully see its teeth. That slow widening realization that something larger is driving everything else inland helps give the story genuine momentum.

Ebenezer "Eerie Eb" Edwards is back! We remember him as the Joe-Rogan-esque cryptid podcaster from Maryland Sasquatch Massacre, one of Richards's better works. Eb is actually still carrying some of the memories, weight, and trauma of that event into this book, which is nice to see. It provides some continuity.

He also brings his skepticism. That makes him a fitting protagonist for a story in which the danger is not only physical but informational. He is surrounded by people and systems that are constantly trying to shape the narrative, soften the truth, or weaponize perception. So, his role in the novel is not just "survive the shark." It is also "figure out what is actually happening while being manipulated from all sides." You can tell that there's a lot more going on than just a seamonster on the loose, there are people pulling the strings and trying to manipulate events.

That brings us to one of the other highlights of the book: the SeaGate material. We liked that there is a conspiratorial, quasi-corporate, quasi-paramilitary energy running through this novel. The expedition does not feel clean, heroic, or reassuring. It feels off. The people involved often seem like they know more than they are saying, and that creates a strong undercurrent of mistrust. Wen Li is especially effective in that regard. She helps give the story that polished-but-dangerous corporate sheen, where everything sounds controlled and professional even when the reality underneath is chaos and death.

There is also a nice satirical edge to some of the characterization and dialogue. Reverend Harlan Creed, for example, adds a strange ideological flavor to the book with his weird mix of pseudo-spirituality, corporate alignment language, and self-justifying philosophy. Characters like that help the novel feel a bit more distinctive. Without them, this could have been a much more straightforward "boat crew versus monster" story. Instead, there is a whole layer of human absurdity and manipulation floating on top of the creature horror.

When this book wants to get nasty, it gets nasty.

There is ripped flesh, panic, chaos, blood-frenzy violence, shattered bodies, torn-apart vessels, and the kind of maritime carnage that reminds readers why the open ocean is such a perfect horror setting. The sea is already intimidating enough without adding a prehistoric apex predator the size of a nightmare. Ethan Richards clearly understands that. Some of the most effective scenes are not even the most action-heavy ones, but the ones that emphasize helplessness: the sense of being on unstable water, surrounded by something you cannot properly track, measure, or stop.

There always seems to be that one OMG-they-killed-Kenny death in these books. We think it's supposed to come across as sad and tragic, but it's often humorous.

Eb and company show a lot of guts in the midst of this danger, and Eb takes a lot of damage throughout. Characters can die or be horribly maimed at any time. So, there's some suspense there.

Check it out on Amazon!