Handsome, smart, but mostly humongousAuthor, pituitary freak, bioengineering genius, and general kicker of ass Michael Crichton died two days ago after an extremely private (nobody knew he had it!) battle with cancer. What kind of cancer? The kind that would have made a superb Michael Crichton villain, obviously, had it not killed him.
Crichton, who was inexplicably almost seven feet tall, was one of the most critically acclaimed and prolific fiction authors of the 20th century. His 1990 magnum opus, Jurassic Park, is one of the best-selling novels of all time and its subsequent film adaptation was the highest-grossing film in the history of the universe until every woman dragged her husband/boyfriend to Titanic a few years later.
All told, he wrote 26 (!) novels, 16 of which I have read, including The Andromeda Strain, Sphere, Congo, Eaters of the Dead, and The Lost World. He wrote four works of non-fiction.
In addition to his literature, Crichton also invented the television series ER, which was pretty much the only show on NBC that anyone watched over the past five years.
May you forever defeat synthetic dinosaurs in heaven, sir. Farewell.
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