Because You Can't Learn Biotechnology from Dissecting Owl Pellets

I’m not usually a fan of Michael Crichton. But I’m not not a fan either, by which I mean that I don’t think his books are terrible or want him to get thrown into a volcano or anything. Confused? Let me put it this way. If books were classmates in an elementary school gym class, he would be the equivalent of the rich, nerdy kid who plays tennis. Probably not terrible at dodge ball, but he’s not your first choice either.

With that being said, I’ve actually read several of his books, most of them between the ages of twelve to fourteen. You see, my middle school science teacher, Mr. Zusak, gave extra credit if you did a book report on any of Michael Crichton‘s work. This extra credit came in handy when it was time for learning about aerodynamics and the model rocket I was supposed to build exploded. Okay, I made that up. My model rocket flew perfectly. But I did the reports anyway, because it was middle school, and really what else was I going to do with my time besides watch “The X-Files?”

Frankly though, I always found his books a wee bit on the boring side. Crichton likes to include a lot of science and techno babble. You see, I never cared if I understood the long and detailed discussion concerning how InGen cloned dinosaurs from the amber frozen DNA in “Jurassic Park.” Odds are my brain shuts off when I see those words anyway, leaving me with a text that reads something like, “Bla bla bla tyrannosaurus science science Ian Malcolm’s leg bla bla blood technology genetics science bla bla disemboweled lawyer.”

And really, isn’t that all you need in an entertaining novel? You get the story. You get the nasty fun science-fiction bits. Nobody’s confused and everybody’s happy! Everybody’s happy…. except for Michael Crichton because he didn’t get to tell you that, “bioengineered DNA was, weight for weight, the most valuable material in the world. A single microscopic bacterium, too small to see with the naked eye, but containing the genes for a heart attack enzyme, streptokinase, or for 'ice-minus,' which prevented frost damage to crops, might be worth five billion dollars to the right buyer.” Streptokinase, Mr. Crichton? Wasn’t this book about DINOSAURS???

Oh god, you don’t even know how bored I got at this very moment, sifting through quotes from “Jurassic Park” just to illustrate my point on how boring techno babble can be. It’s fiction. Science-fiction! Did Luke ever stop and explain in scientific terms how the Force allowed him to have better hand eye coordination? No, he didn’t because was too busy training with Yoda and making out with his sister.

But tons of people (who are probably smarter than me. Members of Mensa most likely) love Michael Crichton’s books. He knows how to tell a compelling tale of death and destruction, hidden amongst the “subatomics“ and the “polarizing xenon gas.” Exactly why I didn’t turn my nose up at it when a friend of mine recommended his 1999 novel “Timeline.” It’s about a group of historians who use a time machine to return to 1357 and rescue their lost professor. As you can imagine, what should have been a “routine” retrieval mission turns into an epic tale of chopping off heads with broadswords and people getting spliced in two by faulty teleportation devices.

Shock of all shockers, the opening section that takes place in modern day, involving the huge corporation that owns the time traveling technology did not amuse me a quarter as much as when they dressed the crew in peasant clothes and chucked them into the past. Less than five minutes into arriving in 1300s France, two crew members die, with a third possibly on his way. Now that got my attention in a way no description of “superconducting quantum interference devices” ever could. Unfortunately, none of that happened until page one hundred and sixty-three.