During a recent tidying up of old files, I came across an archive of Facebook Notes (remember those?) I’d written several years ago. From that pile of twentysomething trash, only one brief post is worth re-publishing, not for any fine writing, but in honor and memoriam of a fine writer…


This comes a few months after the fact, but I feel compelled to post a few words about the late Michael Crichton. Though he had been a novelist since the late 1960’s, the majority of my generation got introduced to Crichton’s work with the 1993 film adaptation of Jurassic Park, and that same majority made his acquaintance, enjoyed the movie, and went on with their lives. However, for me the film served to generate further interest: interest in the novel, then the author, then his other novels… Congo, Sphere, The Andromeda Strain, The Terminal Man, Timeline… From those impressionable middle school years, the man who taught me Chaos Theory created in me a butterfly effect felt to this day in my affinity for literature. Michael Crichton is the reason I love to read, and to him I give credit for my literacy, vocabulary, fascinations, respect and appreciation of science and research, and faith that reality and fiction can coalesce so seamlessly in storytelling that they become possibility. His unexpected death last November is a tragedy not only for his family, but for the entire world of literature, science, film, and television. I will greatly and most affectionately miss him.

originally posted as a Facebook Note on March 18, 2009

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Written by Ryan Staples

Professional videographer, proficient photographer, practicing writer. Imperfect perfectionist.