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Last night I finished reading Michael Crichton’s 1999 novel Timeline. I’ve always been a sucker for a time travel story, and this one is more unusual than most.
First, Crichton, who passed away in 2008, was not only an excellent writer, but well-versed in science, medicine, and history. His character descriptions are particularly good, and he always managed to pack plenty of action in his books as well as accurate (historical in this case) details.
My one complaint was his explanation of time travel. Crichton didn’t so much describe traveling back in time as jumping from one quantum reality to another. But the explanation presupposed that the reality being jumped into runs parallel to our own (since, as the novel states, time travel is impossible). Yet a person trapped in the 14th century manages to write a note among scholarly papers in a French abbey that is found by his coworkers in 1999.
I skipped over that part and just pretended it worked.




