Michael Crichton is back! Well, figuratively speaking. He’s still dead, sadly. But a manuscript discovered among his papers and published posthumously has washed the taste of Next out of my mouth and reminded me why he was my favorite contemporary author.
Crichton’s final book, Pirate Latitudes, is a light, fun romp of a book. For his final novel, Crichton abandoned his penchant for futurism and went old school. Really old school. 17th century old school.
Pirate Latitudes chronicles the adventures of Captain Hunter and his crew of privateers (don’t call them pirates) in 1660s British colony of Jamaica. While Pirate Latitudes would never be confused with the giants of literature for its prose, the story is fast paced and fun to read.
Crichton clearly did his research, and it shows in the vivid details of the ship and habits of the 17th century pirat – ahem – privateers. The main characters are well defined and fleshed out, which is one of the hallmarks of a well-told story.
The story contains lots of action and violence, but not in a graphic sense. The rough life of a privateer comes sharply into focus as the tale unfolds. The code and conduct of the seamen slowly begins to make sense. By the point in the book that Hunter shoots one of his own men as a disciplinary action, I had already been sucked in to such a degree that I found myself mentally agreeing with him over the objections of the proper English lady aboard his craft.
I won’t go into the how’s and why’s of the discipline, or the reasons that a proper English lady should find herself aboard this particular privateering vessel; you should pick up a copy of Pirate Latitudes for yourself. Crichton’s final novel, allegedly unaltered before going to print, deepens my sorrow at losing one of my favorite authors, but also ends his career on a high note with an enjoyable, fast paced, and exciting read.
Now, if someone could just find a completed Douglas Adams manuscript in his basement I’ll be a happy man.
