At The Edge of the Universe, we review mainstream authors that incorporate elements of speculative fiction into their “literary” work. However you want to label them, we hope you’ll enjoy discussing these books with us.

In his introduction to Micro, Michael Crichton explains that children today are “cut off from the experience of nature, and from play in the natural world.” Crichton’s purpose, it would seem, is to take the seemingly mundane world and reveal the wonderful details that don’t make it onto Wikipedia and computer models. Crichton had reportedly finished one third of Micro when he passed away, and the novel has since been finished by Richard Preston.

Peter Jansen and his friends were just regular Cambridge students until Nanigen MicroTechnologies came recruiting. One of the recruiters is Peter’s brother Eric, who tries to be discreet about Nanigen’s very cool, but very proprietary, technology while also hinting that the company has invented tools that will lead to a new era of scientific knowledge. Peter does not find a new microscope, but he does discover a miniature plane in Eric’s car. What does Nanigen MicroTechnologies do? The students decide that they will have to travel to Hawaii to find out. However, before they leave, Peter receives a text message from his brother warning him not to come. It is afterward followed by a phone call from the company informing Peter that Eric has disappeared.

Peter decides to investigate. When he confronts Vin Drake, the psychopathic CEO of Nanigen MicroTechnologies rushes Peter and his fellow students into a “safe room” that turns out to be a “Tensor Generator.” The Tensor Generator (which seems like an homage to Star Trek’s transporter) can “dimensionally change” matter. Drake shrinks the students to an inch in height and then attempts to feed them to a snake. No fuss, no muss.

However, Peter and his colleagues escape the lab into the Oahu rainforest, where they are forced to pit their scientific expertise against the ferocity of the “micro world.”

It is tempting to compare Micro to Crichton’s earlier novel Prey, which pitted scientists against sentient swarms of nanotechnology. However, the conflict that Micro offers might actually be more akin to Jurassic Park. Rather than speculating about the eyesight of the Tyrannosaurus, Crichton spends his time outlining the chemical defenses and biological armor of beetles, wasps, and centipedes. Rather than humans fighting against terrible lizards, tiny scientists fight against monstrous insects.

Crichton’s depiction of the insect world is not speculative, and it is here that readers will see why Crichton chose to write about the natural world. It is clear that he finds the natural world fascinating, though brutally violent.

The premise works well, which is important because Micro’s characters are very flat. None of our heroes has as much personality as Dr. Grant from Jurassic Park, Norman Johnson from Sphere, or even Amy, the gorilla in Congo. However, the real weakness of the novel is Vin Drake, the psychopathic villain who madly pursues the microbiologists across Oahu. He doesn’t stroke his mustache, but the gesture would not have been out of place.

Still, the “micro-world” is an exciting place to visit. If Crichton’s goal in Micro was to make his readers see nature in a new way, I think he has succeeded. However, if his goal was to make today’s children to trade in computer models for first hand experience in nature, he may have failed. Yes, the adaptations that allow insects to survive the micro world are amazing, but I suspect that most readers will find the venom sacs of spiders and the mandibles of centipedes just as gross – if not grosser – after finishing the novel as they did when they started reading.

At The Edge of the Universe, we review mainstream authors that incorporate speculative elements into their fiction. However you want to label them, we hope you’ll enjoy discussing these books with us.

When Michael Crichton wrote The Andromeda Strain, he was not just writing a mediocre novel about extra-terrestrial bacteria. He was founding a (sub) genre of SFF that found a massive mainstream audience.

The techno-thriller has all of the pacing and suspense that we might expect of a John Grisham novel, but it also contains the encyclopedic detail that readers expect to find in “hard science fiction.”

To be honest, I’ve always been skeptical of the “techno-thriller” as a genre. It feels like a marketing gimmick to get skeptics to read SFF. However, while I may be skeptical of “techno-thrillers” as a category of fiction, that hasn’t stopped me from enjoying its stories.

After all, there is something very compelling about the technical details that Crichton outlines in his novels. Sometimes it’s important to know how things work, and sometimes it’s fascinating to discover how things went wrong. And it’s always fun to read about scientists poking fun at each other’s disciplines.

In The Andromeda Strain, we make fun of biologists.

Crichton tells the story of a group of scientists (a character collection that he would return to) that attempt to study and contain lethal alien bacteria. When discussing characters in The Andromeda Strain, it is difficult to resist making a list of excuses about why the characters in The Andromeda Strain don’t need to have any personality beyond a conflict between scientific method and human error. Crichton’s best effort may be referring to these characters as “Wildfire” scientists, though they are neither wild nor fiery.

In true techno-thriller fashion, it is the alien bacteria that steal the show. The Andromeda strain is not only lethal but also horrifically deadly. How villainous!

The most memorable aspects of The Andromeda Strain have nothing to do with characters, horror, or even suspense. Instead, Crichton is at his best as he meticulously outlines the Wildfire lab, the precautions that scientists have taken to protect themselves from lethal bacteria, the safeguards against human error, the fail-safes that anticipate design flaws, the futuristic crew quarters, and even the scientific experiments.

He also outlines how all of this planning goes wrong.

It makes for surprisingly impressive reading. We often celebrate poets that write innovative sonnets because the sonnet is such a challenging and restrictive form. With The Andromeda Strain, Michael Crichton has taken the form of a textbook or (at best) journal entry and attempted to make it thrilling. So although we see more evolution of bacteria than of character in The Andromeda Strain, Crichton’s achievements should not be dismissed.

The lack of character development does make it difficult to access The Andromeda Strain. As a novel, it is a middling read, but as a template, The Andromeda Strain would launch one of the most successful careers in … the techno-thriller’s history.

At The Edge of the Universe, we review mainstream authors that incorporate elements of speculative fiction into their “literary” work. However you want to label them, we hope you’ll enjoy discussing these books with us.

In Sphere, the follow up to Congo, Michael Crichton asks the question: how do you top a techno-thriller that pits a team of parachuting scientists against extremely intelligent apes that protect a remote area of jungle in Congo?

Impossible, right?

Perhaps not. Sphere begins with a premise that, by now, most Crichton fans will recognize very easily. Norman Johnson is a scientist, this time a psychologist, who has done a bit of work for a major organization in the past, this time the United States government. He receives a surprise phone call asking him to pack his bags and prepare to take part in a top secret, very classified, “need to know basis only” situation in a distant location, this time the ocean floor. It turns out that the military has found something amazing, this time a spaceship from the future.

For fans of Crichton’s formula, Sphere has it all: a mysterious setting that will require unusual technology to reach, a mysterious prize that also threatens our heroes’ safety, and monsters drawn from the natural world. Intelligent gorillas were one thing, but this time Crichton includes a giant squid, a respectful nod to 20000 Leagues Under the Sea.

Clearly, Crichton has one-upped his premise in Congo.

Surprisingly, Crichton also elevates his use of character in Sphere. Up to this point, he has primarily given his characters personality in order to comment on various academic disciplines, and Crichton certainly continues this pastime in Sphere. Elizabeth Halpern is a particularly interesting example: she is aggressive, muscular, and intelligent, but also insecure ever since her lover (and supervisor) took her breakthrough research and claimed it as his own. Harry Adams, meanwhile, is a cold, almost cruelly competent mathematician, and he often irks the other characters. He is also the only black member of the team. Harry’s research into mathematics sets him apart because his field is more “pure” than others, particularly the muddy research of psychology. Can psychology even be classified as “science?” Norman Johnson is used to these taunts from his peers, though he is not above admitting that they bother him.

Crichton takes his characterization further in Sphere than he has in previous novels. Now, his characters have internal conflicts that are more than perfunctory — they actually allow their author quite a variety of options. Norman’s background is in the psychology of group dynamics, and some of his findings might surprise readers. For example, he has found that teams that work very well together often fail when given a task outside of their area of expertise. He has also found that people like Harry may stress a group but that they tend to respond well to pressure and become potential leaders. It may be that Harry, who antagonizes many of the other characters, will save the day. Whenever Crichton needs to add tension, he allows his psychologist to speculate about the health of the group. Is that person’s mental stability about to snap? Is this team’s bond of fellowship about to break?

It’s a strategy that works very well, especially after the team finds what is on that mysterious spaceship from the future. Suddenly, characterization will, arguably, become more important than we could ever imagine.

Consequently, Sphere is an easy novel to recommend, especially for readers looking for a fast-paced page-turner that touches on a variety of interesting ideas and gadgets without ever diverting momentum from the plot. Seriously, a team of scientists against giant squids on the ocean floor investigating space ships from the future… How can you top that?

At The Edge of the Universe, we review mainstream authors that incorporate elements of speculative fiction into their “literary” work. However you want to label them, we hope you’ll enjoy discussing these books with us.

It’s difficult to talk about Michael Crichton’s Jurassic Park, though not because the novel’s plot and characters are especially complex. They aren’t.

Alan Grant is a paleontologist who is asked to vet a new theme park that has brought dinosaurs back to life. The dinosaurs escape, and Grant, human resourcefulness, and state of the art technology are pitted against the raw power of Jurassic era biology. It’s a simple premise, though it is also undeniably compelling.

Instead, Jurassic Park is difficult to talk about because it is overshadowed by its film adaptation. I have never once managed to mention this novel without the conversation digressing into recollections about the first time I saw the movie. (In my case, I was lucky enough to watch it as a kid in the theater.) So I tend to classify Jurassic Park as one of those stories for which the movie was better than the book.

Ironically, if not for the film, Jurassic Park would more commonly be remembered as Michael Crichton’s masterpiece. Crichton’s previous techno thriller, Sphere, had everything we could expect from Michael Crichton, including: an unusual team of academics, futuristic yet familiar technologies clearly explained to us, and a distant and adventurous setting. Readers could have easily walked away from that novel thinking that Crichton would spend the remainder of his career futilely trying to match his achievement in Sphere.

But with Jurassic Park, Crichton has consistently traded up. Mathematicians are cool, but rock star mathematicians like Ian Malcolm are even cooler. Malcolm not only explains why we should wear black clothing, but also introduces us to chaos theory. Malcolm guarantees that the dinosaurs will escape, which is one of the best uses of mathematics to generate suspense that I’ve ever encountered.

Alien technology is pretty nifty, but what about cloning technology? It’s not only hip, but also real enough to allude to ethical dilemmas that we were already reading about in magazines.

The ocean floor seemed dangerous, but how about a remote Caribbean island in the middle of a hurricane?

And let’s not forget about the most important trade of all: dinosaurs are substituted for squids.

Who could have seen this coming?

Actually, anyone.

What’s impressive about these substitutions is that Crichton has improved his formula by returning to the same playbook from which he seems to have gotten all of his ideas: adventure stories written around the turn of the century. Arthur Conan Doyle’s The Lost World has replaced Jules Verne’s 20000 Leagues Under the Sea. I can’t help but wonder how much Crichton’s childhood library card would catch at an auction. He certainly made it pay.

At this point, the question seems to become whether or not we should still read Jurassic Park. It seems wrong to apply this question to one of the greatest techno thrillers ever written. Nevertheless, the strength of Crichton’s work has always been the plot, as opposed to the prose or the characterization. Because the film is faithful enough to the novel that readers will find themselves feeling as though the velociraptors are old friends rather than deadly adversaries, some readers may well be justified in opting not to read this one.

Still, for Crichton fans, Jurassic Park is a must.

At The Edge of the Universe, we review mainstream authors that incorporate elements of speculative fiction into their “literary” work. However you want to label them, we hope you’ll enjoy discussing these books with us.

Michael Crichton’s Congo (1980) is an adventure story that should recall Sir Arthur Conan Doyle’s The Lost World (1912) and Henry Rider Haggard’s King Solomon’s Mines (1885).

However, although the formula has been used so many times as to become almost archetypal, the little details have been updated for a contemporary audience. In place of dinosaurs, Crichton offers an unusual breed of gorilla that threatens our band of scientists, and he trades in mines and lost explorers for flawed diamonds that can be used for cutting-edge communications technologies.

And our lost city (Zinj) is located in the rainforests of the Congo.

Congo is one of Crichton’s earlier techno-thrillers, but it is clear that by this time he had begun to smooth out the wrinkles in his writing. His characterization is still a little transparent – our tragic hero Karen Ross’ fatal flaw is revealed on a computer printout – but Crichton’s reliance on computers makes a rather obvious ploy feel novel. Ross’ psychological profile warns that although she is driven and intelligent, her youth and ambition could endanger her life and the lives of her team.

The adventure stories that were written near the turn of the century were often infatuated with exploration and discovery, an infatuation that Crichton clearly shares. Throughout Congo, Crichton showcases unusual academic advances, tweaked just enough to feel like science fiction. For example, Peter Elliot has trained a gorilla, Amy, to communicate using sign language. Our local guide in Africa, a shadowy mercenary named Munro, plans the route into the jungle relying on computer models. And how about those automated weapons systems? There is a sense of mystery and grandeur to these advances that is rivaled only by the lost city of Zinj, its crumbling ruins, and its violent protectors.

However, although Crichton clearly revels in the novelty of invention, discovery and progress, his purpose is actually conservative. What happens to a society that hands over its responsibilities to automated systems? Although Crichton is often dismissed for his lackluster styling, his fusion of the adventure story with science fiction still feels fresh today, and his juxtaposition of the ancient with the futuristic allows him to suggest that there is wisdom to be found in the past that can shape the decisions we make about our future.

Congo is not Crichton’s best work, but that is only because he would take the setting, character and theme of this novel and refine (or upgrade) all of them in later works like Sphere and Jurassic Park. Regardless, readers looking for an intelligent fusion of science fiction and adventure could hardly do better than Michael Crichton’s Congo.