This fucking blows.
It is not an overstatement to say that Michael Crichton had more influence on my childhood imagination than any other writer. In fact, if one were to dig through my old elementary and middle school assignments, every book report was for a Crichton novel. I even recall writing an essay on why I wanted to be Michael Crichton.
Yes, later in life I expanded my reading horizons, learning that Crichton was not, as I’d always believed, the greatest writer on the planet. However that does nothing to change the fact I would buy Michael Crichton books for my Dad on his birthday with the ulterior motive that I would get to read them when he was done. That there was a summer I literally woke up every morning and watched a VHS tape of JURASSIC PARK. He was my gateway to a world of science fiction, off-brand horrors and paperback diving.
I owe him a debt.
This fucking blows.
At first I was stunned, but largely because I had no idea he was 66. He looks 46.
RIP. He’ll be missed.
I was in a bank getting some money out for my trip when I heard it in the background on CNN. I cursed quite loudly and I think the teller thought I was just a jerk.
Then again, people that curse loudly in public places are jerks.
Whaat? He died? How could that happen!
Wow, this is the first I had heard about it. That is insane, he will be missed.