I'm not sure why I started another Michael Crichton novel. Though the late author was obviously a very intelligent, very talented individual, The Andromeda Strain read like a training manual of some kind. Or a really stiff recap of an episode of 24. Though it was certainly waaaaay ahead of its time at one point, it reads like contemporary fiction that's way too fascinated by dated technology. Imagine the marvels of one day operating a computer with only a small group of three people!
Brilliant!
Anyway, Eaters of the Dead. I tried it out because it was of average length, it came with glowing recommendations from a friend of mine, and I vaguely remember liking the movie adaptation, The 13th Warrior. Plus, I can't help but check out a good viking yarn. But I've gotta say, this was a fantastic book. Not the best written book out there, but that's kind of the point, I guess; so in that sense, it manages to maintain a kind of illusion that makes the story all the more engaging. When you're finished, you might just put down the book feeling grateful you were born in this era. It's hard out there for a viking.
The main premise of this book is that it was not actually written by Michael Crichton, but that it's actually a journal of experiences taken down by a Muslim ambassador from Baghdad, Ahmad ibn Fadlan, concerning a journey to Volga Bulgaria that was never completed. At some point in his travels, Ahmad and his party encounter savage Northmen camped near the sea. After falling in with them overnight, and bearing witness to some of their more primal customs, he is forcibly conscripted into their band and taken to defend the lands of King Rothgar, somewhere in Scandinavia. Their reasoning behind this is that because their group numbers only twelve, such an undertaking would be a very unlucky thing to, since thirteen is considered an almost holy number to them. So, they take Ahmad, thus making him their thirteenth warrior.
Considering that this is the journal of a man in the 10th century who had only basic writing experience and had never left the desert in his life, his initial travels across the sea and into the unknown make for a very entertaining thing to read. The things he focuses on, specifically the water, all of the plants, and how he's the darkest person most of these vikings have ever met was interesting. These brief, very human observations are what put me in a state of mind that made accepting this as a real journal very easy.
There's also the fact that he can only really talk to one of the warriors, since all but one have no understanding of Ahmad's language. There are also little conflicts between himself and the other twelve, since he is a staunch Muslim and an educated man, while the others are polytheistic and live like they are going to die tomorrow, always tomorrow. Their little cultural duels were pretty hilarious, as Ahmad's insistence on bathing everyday is seen as completely weird, while the Northmen have no reservations about laying with a slavewoman only a few feet away for all to see.
After a long journey across the sea, across unknown lands, and then once more across some kinda secondary sea, the thirteen arrive at King Rothgar's nation and are granted a hero's welcome. Ahmad soon discovers that the reason for their being summoned across the face of the world was to do battle with strange "mist monsters" that they've taken to calling "wendol" - which is Scandinavian for "black mist" if I recall. These monsters come in the night, when the mist is thickest, and slaughter anyone they can get their hands on. They're also headhunters and cannibals, so they have that to contend with.
The rest of the book recounts Ahmad and the rest of the thirteen's battles with the wendol, and it really is just one unsettling encounter after another.
If you remember that this book is told through the eyes of a man who's never seen the world outside of the desert and is hanging around warriors whose sense of mysticism is deeply bred into them, then you'll find yourself constantly trying to interpret what Ahmad has written down. What does he mean when he sees a dragon in the distance? Leviathans in the waters of the ocean? A man with the head of a bear? For the most part, it's open to interpretation, but sometimes Crichton adds little annotations at the bottom of the page to clue the reader in on the manuscript's history, the various translations it's gone through, and how things may have been misinterpreted. For a story that's (for the most part) fiction, Crichton really goes out of the way to make sure that you actually learn some things about both Arab and viking cultures in the process.
And as I said, the book is for the most part fiction. Most of what you read in the beginning of the book is almost straight out of a real manuscript from a real ambassador on his way to Volga Bulgaria, while the rest is sort of a retelling of Beowulf with a much firmer foot in reality. (Much like the newer King Arthur film.) To that end, you're not really sure where the real manuscript begins and where Crichton's words begin, since it seems that among his many talents, he was also able to adapt his writing style to that of a 1oth century Muslim ambassador.
I really liked Eaters of the Dead, and it's probably my favorite Crichton book of the four that I've read so far - and of the two I actually remember in detail. It's not a terrifying book, but it's more than unsettling as it effortlessly conjures up an age when giving in to savage and primal instincts was a more common occurrence - and dying in glorious battle, with a slave tossed onto your pyre, was your greatest concern of all.
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