From the Archives: Crichton Latitudes

Crichton wasn’t as steeped in maritime history as, say, Patrick O’Brian, author of “Master and Commander” and the other Aubrey-Maturin novels, but he acquits himself well enough in describing how slower-burning fuses can be made from opossum guts, how to survive a hurricane at sea and how to sabotage Danish cannons. The precision of the historical detail helps conceal the thinness of the characterizations, as everyone in the book, from Hunter on down, is a type, not a three-dimensional individual. -Michael Berry’s review of Pirate Latitudes As you may know, this website’s content was originally intended to be fairly Michael Crichton-centric. In honor of the posthumous publication of the Crichton pirate novel Pirate Latitudes, I thought I’d dredge up some chum from the lies cellar of the good ship TITLE‘s alternate reality Wikipedia: Cryptic Crichton Statements: Immediately subsequent to the Sept. 11 attacks and for three months afterward, Crichton faxed […]

Origin Story: Lies about Michael Crichton

Way back in the dark ages of 2008–a year sure to be called, henceforth, “The Fuckening”–my original designs for titleofmagazine were largely fermented cubicle thoughts merging pop science blurbs with lies about authors whose names appear in raised type on their books’ dust jackets.  I had fantasies of gently ribbing airport bookstore gods such as Dean “Groping Golden Hand” Koontz and Michael “Gigantor” Crichton into turning my life into a treeless version of The Most Dangerous Game. But alas, Crichton’s heart gave out.  The man was 6’20” and given to flogging the writing muscles until they squeezed out the purest extracts of commuter-ready techno-thriller and such a strain finally took its toll.  He died the undisputed king of jamming the Clif’s Notes version of modern science up a tyrannosaurus’s ass and then rolling in its cash scented excretions.  A wild ride indeed. So instead of a running joke, I offer […]