Snowstorms and Michael Crichton

Photo by Sindre Strøm from Pexels

Fun fact: it is snowing today.

Actually, it has been snowing all week.

I think it might have something to do with it being January. And my living in Colorado, where we randomly get blizzards in January and sometimes have to stay at home because the snow is almost as high as our knees and we can’t get our cars out of the driveway.

Crazy, right?

This week has been one long succession of crazy, actually. Besides a round of job interviews (or attempted job interviews), I have also done my best to get to work, finish my writing projects for the week, conquer a cold, and keep my house warm enough to comfortably live in despite the frigid temperatures and high winds.

I managed most of these things.

Definitely not all.

For example, on Tuesday, in the midst of a snowstorm that was actually a blizzard, my dad and I piled into his Subaru in an attempt to make it to work.

Spoiler.

We did not make it.

We got stuck three times. Once on the way and twice on the way back. In-between, we waited at a neighbor’s house for the plow to come and save us. My dad worked. I binge read Michael Crichton’s Micro.

If you have never read Micro, I would highly recommend it. Michael Crichton’s books are a rather new addition to my shelves, and the more I read, the more impressed I am. I think Micro is my new favorite of his works. The story is engaging, fast-paced, and about as scary as they come. If you’re a fan of Michael Crichton, Jurassic Park, or monster thrillers of any kind, I would highly recommend it.

To be honest, it was the perfect book for the type of day I was having. Instead of focusing on being stuck at a stranger’s house for several hours, trudging through calf-deep snow, and being battered about by bone-chilling winds, I got to explore another world and immerse myself in the dangers and grandeur of a microscopic world.

And, seeing as how we were stuck for seven hours, and I never did get to work, I managed to read the entire book that day.

All 400 pages of it.

So it wasn’t entirely a lost cause.

And we did make it home eventually. Neither of us were frost-bitten, and my dad even got his car back with minimal damage.

I think next time, though, I will just stay home and read Michael Crichton by my wood stove instead. Blizzards in January are not some of my favorite things.

Jurassic Park

Sometimes, it is really hard to pick a favorite book.

I don’t mean that I have a shortage of books that I absolutely love. If anything, I have too many. (A fact that did not stop me from buying ten more just a few days ago.) No, I have plenty of books that I love and adore with all of my heart. The problem is deciding which one to talk about.

You’ve had that happen, right? Someone tells you to choose your very favorite book and suddenly—your mind is a blank. You’ve never read a book in your life. You have no favorites. What are they talking about??

This happens to me quite frequently. Generally, I panic and name the first book that pops into my head, hoping that the person asking will not take my answer as gospel or quote me on it at a later date. (They usually don’t. Thank goodness.) But, if the question doesn’t happen to be about books, I can occasionally answer reasonably. For example?

My favorite season is autumn.

My favorite animal is any kind of cat—even the bald ones. Or the huge ones that eat you.

And my favorite movie is—and always will be—Jurassic Park.

Which brings me to this review . . . because I have spent years declaring that I love the Jurassic Park movies and insisting that I will never—never, ever, ever—read the books.

They scared me.

I picked one up in a thrift store once, flipped it open, and somehow, by an incredible amount of bad luck, managed to land on a page where someone was being devoured by a raptor.

Very messily.

Nope.

So for years, I avoided Michael Crichton’s, Jurassic Park. I loved the movies, celebrated with everyone else when Jurassic World appeared and went to the theater alone at night to watch Fallen Kingdom a few days after it came out. Finally, my wonderful, beautiful editor convinced me that I was crazy and I needed to give the book version of Jurassic Park a try. So, very hesitantly, I did.

And I loved it.

Michael Crichton’s Jurassic Park is very different from the movie version. The characters are different, parts of the plot, even some of the world building is completely opposite to what it was in the movie. Usually, I resent movies that don’t follow the book, but this one time, I was excited. I had a new Jurassic Park adventure, and I had no idea what was going to happen.

Michael Crichton is best known for his suspenseful, action-packed writing, and Jurassic Park is one of his best works. The island with its mysterious inhabitants, the scientists who had gone too far with their experiments, and the living, breathing relics of the past combined together beautifully to create a fast-paced, breath-snatching novel that entranced me. The scientific side of the creation of the dinosaurs is emphasized in these books, as well as the cutthroat industrial side of things that was so ignored in the movies. These dinosaurs were worth millions of dollars to the men who managed to present them to the world in a safe package, and the struggle to do that is infinitely more ruthless than the movies let on.

Jurassic Park has always pulled me in with its prehistoric feel and the wonder of what John Hammond and his scientists had done, and the book multiplied that wonder and made it real for me. New stories, new dinosaurs and threats, and—in some ways—new characters were opened up to me in these books, and I devoured them. I would highly recommend the books to anyone looking for more of Jurassic Park.

The planet has survived everything, in its time. It will certainly survive us.