I loved Crichton as a child. The Andromeda Strain movie was so
engrossing for me at the time, that I even called Crichton in '71
to tell him so. I even made a pathetic attempt, at the age of 12,
to write a novel that was supposed to be a variation called
The Antilla Strategem which, instead of a virus from "outer space,"
it was from "below the sea." It had lines like
"Oh my God, histoplasmosis? You've got to be kidding me!"
In high school, for a book report in '75, I created a half-hour
multimedia event based on The Terminal Man that included
readings from the text, sampled and composed music,
and an elaborate multi-projector slideshow to tell
the story in a "Cliff Notes" audio style.
As I got older, it became clearer that he was a mess of a person -
a complete and utter pathetic disappointment that made me,
later, be ashamed that I'd ever had interest in his work.
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