My dad took me to see “Jaws 2” when I was five years old. Some of you reading that sentence may automatically be thinking “child abuse”, but, for the record, he gave me the choice of seeing that film or “Saturday Night Fever”, and I’m positive, to this day, that I made the better choice.
My dad likes to tell the story of how I never once closed my eyes during the film. In fact, he added, I sat most of the film literally sitting on the edge of my seat, staring wide-eyed at the screen in a kind of excited incredulity. I do remember fondly several scenes of shark-induced carnage. To this day, the film (as dumb as it is) still holds a pretty special place in my heart.
My love of horror films stems, I think, from this moment. Strangely enough, I have never had a love for sharks. Of the plethora of movie monsters I have seen and enjoyed, sharks are extremely low on the spectrum of genuine scariness. For me, Ridley Scott’s “Alien” still tops the charts in terms of sheer sweaty-palms, hairs-on-the-back-of-neck-rising creepy thrills. Hell, even the clown doll under the bed in “Poltergeist” scared me more than any of the “Jaws” movies.
Not that sharks aren’t worthy of respect and natural fear, but I have the same natural fear of grizzly bears, alligators, and yellow-jackets. I also have enough respect for them to leave them alone, which is why I don’t do a lot of hiking or swimming in Florida everglades or oceans.
In other words, “Shark Week” on the Discovery Channel is never a big deal for me, and neither are those made-for-TV SyFy network “Megashark” movies starring Debbie Gibson. Shark porn doesn’t do it for me.
So, why did I pick Steve Alten’s now-cult-classic novel “Meg” to read? What drew me to it?
I’ll be honest: it was partly due to the release of the new movie based on the book, starring Jason Statham. The trailer actually looks decent, and the movie (which I haven’t seen yet) might actually be a good balance of action, carnage, and humor.
Another reason is because I noticed that Alten has written about 37* books in this series, and I’m honestly curious as to how many times and in how many scenarios one can place a giant shark? Sharks in tornadoes have been done to death. Other than time-traveling robot sharks sent to kill the woman who would give birth to the leader of the future shark-overlord resistance movement or maybe zombie sharks (which kinda sounds redundant, now that I think about it...), I simply don’t have the imagination to contemplate that many situations in which a giant shark can be placed to carry on a series of this magnitude.
So, I read it, and I have to say: it’s pretty damn entertaining. Fast-paced, suspenseful, and intelligent, “Meg” is a fun giant-shark action thriller that pretty much makes Jaws look like a panty-waist.
The plot: former naval submersible pilot Jonas Taylor is now a marine biologist specializing in theories about the existence of Carcharadon Megalodon, a 70-foot prehistoric dinosaur that was the grand-daddy of the great whites. His latest book is causing a lot of buzz in the marine biology world. Sadly, most of it is bad buzz, as Taylor is almost-unanimously written off as a crank and a nutjob.
Taylor, however, knows that the megaladon (“Meg” as he calls her, somewhat affectionately) really exists. It nearly got him killed and actually killed two of his shipmates during a run-in with the creature many years ago in the Mariana Trench. Dishonorably discharged (the Navy refused to believe his outlandish story), Taylor spent time in a mental institution and then became a marine biologist.
Taylor is, of course, proven right when he is hired by a Japanese company to pilot a submersible in the Mariana Trench again, this time to retrieve a sunken sub. Despite his warnings, the crew unwittingly attracts the attention of a megaladon. Carnage, of course, ensues.
Now the giant prehistoric shark is swimming toward Hawaii, where a buffet of rich yachters, surfer dudes, and Japanese whalers await to be eaten into tiny bloody pieces.
This book resurrected, briefly, that five-year-old me that was enthralled, fascinated, and gleefully enamored of man-eating sharks.
I’m also never swimming in an ocean ever again.
P.S. Originally published in 1997, “Meg” was recently re-published by the author in a “revised and expanded edition”, because even the author thought his own writing sucked, and that he has improved his writing skills since then. I read the new version, not the old, so I can’t attest to the accuracy of his assessment. Other than a few typos, the new version was decent.
*Okay, I’m exaggerating: there’s only five books in the series.