|Submitted by Anonymous|
(Apr 06, 2001)
The author of Jurassic Park tries mightily to follow his own act, and comes up short. If it were not for the rather cool quantum mechanics references he seeds into it, I often thought I was in an old Bob Hope Bing Crosby movie. Or was that Danny Kaye? Something about the chalice in the palace with the brew that is true? This novel, which reads like a screenplay, is little more than a ridiculous 14th century Indy Jones wannabe. You're supposed to be wowed by Crichton's research that shows these people were actually clean and modern, for instance, had water closets in their castles, but at the same time lopped off your head in the bush if you were in the way. The incredible chase sequences through medieval castle walls and ceilings were Jackie Chan stuff, all with that "I've seen it before" feel. The incredible power of the Church over people was almost forgotten in a Carl Sagan-ish ("what do ignorant sheepherders know, anyway?) manner, which probably is the most telling. Oh yes, the mysterious amoral corporation behind it all with its endless greed -- what bums! In sum, a most ordinary work, not at all on the same level with 6 foot 9 in. Crichton's other towering masterpieces. 2.5 out of 5 stars.