Dragon Teeth: A Novel

By Michael Crichton

Michael Crichton, the #1 New York Times bestselling author of Jurassic Park, returns to the world of paleontology in this recently discovered novel—a thrilling adventure set in the Wild West during the golden age of fossil hunting.

The year is 1876. Warring Indian tribes still populate America’s western territories even as lawless gold-rush towns begin to mark the landscape. In much of the country it is still illegal to espouse evolution. Against this backdrop two monomaniacal paleontologists pillage the Wild West, hunting for dinosaur fossils, while surveilling, deceiving and sabotaging each other in a rivalry that will come to be known as the Bone Wars.

Into this treacherous territory plunges the arrogant and entitled William Johnson, a Yale student with more privilege than sense. Determined to survive a summer in the west to win a bet against his arch-rival, William has joined world-renowned paleontologist Othniel Charles Marsh on his latest expedition.  But when the paranoid and secretive Marsh becomes convinced that William is spying for his nemesis, Edwin Drinker Cope, he abandons him in Cheyenne, Wyoming, a locus of crime and vice. William is forced to join forces with Cope and soon stumbles upon a discovery of historic proportions.  With this extraordinary treasure, however, comes exceptional danger, and William’s newfound resilience will be tested in his struggle to protect his cache, which pits him against some of the West’s most notorious characters.

A page-turner that draws on both meticulously researched history and an exuberant imagination, Dragon Teeth is based on the rivalry between real-life paleontologists Cope and Marsh; in William Johnson readers will find an inspiring hero only Michael Crichton could have imagined. Perfectly paced and brilliantly plotted, this enormously winning adventure is destined to become another Crichton classic. 

• Language: English
• Publisher: HarperCollins
• Release date: May 23, 2017
• ISBN: 9780062473370

Michael Crichton

Michael Crichton (1942-2008) was the author of the ground-breaking novels The Great Train Robbery, Jurassic Park, Disclosure, Prey, State of Fear and Next, among many others. Crichton’s books have sold more than 200 million copies worldwide, have been translated into thirty-eight languages, and provided the basis for thirteen feature films. Also known as a filmmaker and creator of ER, he remains the only writer to have a number one book, movie, and TV show in the same year.

Book preview

Introduction

As he appears in an early photograph, William Johnson is a handsome young man with a crooked smile and a naive grin. A study in slouching indifference, he lounges against a Gothic building. He is a tall fellow, but his height appears irrelevant to his presentation of himself. The photograph is dated New Haven, 1875, and was apparently taken after he had left home to begin studies as an undergraduate at Yale College.

A later photograph, marked Cheyenne, Wyoming, 1876, shows Johnson quite differently. His mouth is framed by a full mustache; his body is harder and enlarged by use; his jaw is set; he stands confidently with shoulders squared and feet wide—and ankle-deep in mud. Clearly visible is a peculiar scar on his upper lip, which in later years he claimed was the result of an Indian attack.

The following story tells what happened between the two pictures.

For the journals and notebooks of William Johnson, I am indebted to the estate of W. J. T. Johnson, and particularly to Johnson’s great-niece, Emily Silliman, who permitted me to quote extensively from the unpublished material. (Much of the factual contents of Johnson’s accounts found their way into print in 1890, during the fierce battles for priority between Cope and Marsh, which finally involved the U.S. government. But the text itself, or even excerpts, was never published, until now.)

Part I

The Field Trip West

Young Johnson Joins the Field Trip West

William Jason Tertullius Johnson, the elder son of Philadelphia shipbuilder Silas Johnson, entered Yale College in the fall of 1875. According to his headmaster at Exeter, Johnson was gifted, attractive, athletic and able. But the headmaster added that Johnson was headstrong, indolent and badly spoilt, with a notable indifference to any motive save his own pleasures. Unless he finds a purpose to his life, he risks unseemly decline into indolence and vice.

Those words could have served as the description of a thousand young men in late nineteenth-century America, young men with intimidating, dynamic fathers, large quantities of money, and no particular way to pass the time.

William Johnson fulfilled his headmaster’s prediction during his first year at Yale. He was placed on probation in November for gambling, and again in February after an incident involving heavy drinking and the smashing of a New Haven merchant’s window. Silas Johnson paid the bill. Despite such reckless behavior, Johnson remained courtly and even shy with women of his own age, for he had yet to have any luck with them. For their part, they found reason to seek his attention, their formal upbringings notwithstanding. In all other respects, however, he remained unrepentant. Early that spring, on a sunny afternoon, Johnson wrecked his roommate’s yacht, running it aground on Long Island Sound. The boat sank within minutes; Johnson was rescued by a passing trawler; asked what happened, he admitted to the incredulous fishermen that he did not know how to sail because it would be so utterly tedious to learn. And anyway, it looks simple enough. Confronted by his roommate, Johnson admitted he had not asked permission to use the yacht because it was such bother to find you.

Faced with the bill for the lost yacht, Johnson’s father complained to his friends that the cost of educating a young gentleman at Yale these days is ruinously expensive. His father was the serious son of a Scottish immigrant, and took some pains to conceal the excesses of his offspring; in his letters, he repeatedly urged William to find a purpose in life. But William seemed content with his spoiled frivolity, and when he announced his intention to spend the coming summer in Europe, the prospect, said his father, fills me with direst fiscal dread.

Thus his family was surprised when William Johnson abruptly decided to go west during the summer of 1876. Johnson never publically explained why he had changed his mind. But those close to him at Yale knew the reason. He had decided to go west because of a bet.

In his own words, from the journal he scrupulously kept:

Every young man probably has an arch-rival at some point in his life, and in my first year at Yale, I had mine. Harold Hannibal Marlin was my own age, eighteen. He was handsome, athletic, well-spoken, soaking rich, and he was from New York, which he considered superior to Philadelphia in every respect. I found him insufferable. The sentiment was returned in kind.

Marlin and I competed in every arena—in the classroom, on the playing-field, in the undergraduate pranks of the night. Nothing would exist but that we would compete over it. We argued incessantly, always taking the opposing view from the other.

One night at dinner he said that the future of America lay in the developing West. I said it didn’t, that the future of our great nation could hardly rest on a vast desert populated by savage aboriginal tribes.

He replied I didn’t know what I was talking about, because I hadn’t been there. This was a sore point—Marlin had actually been to the West, at least as far as Kansas City, where his brother lived, and he never failed to express his superiority in this matter of travel.

I had never succeeded in neutralizing it.

Going west is no shakes. Any fool can go, I said.

But all fools haven’t gone—at least you haven’t.

I’ve never had the least desire to go, I said.

I’ll tell you what I think, Hannibal Marlin replied, checking to see that the others were listening. I think you’re afraid.

That’s absurd.

Oh yes. A nice trip to Europe’s more your way of things.

Europe? Europe is for old people and dusty scholars.

Mark my word, you’ll tour Europe this summer, perhaps with a parasol.

And if I do go, that doesn’t mean—

Ah hah! You see? Marlin turned to address the assembled table. Afraid. Afraid. He smiled in a knowing, patronizing way that made me hate him and left me no choice.

As a matter of fact, I said coolly, I am already determined on a trip in the West this summer.

That caught him by surprise; the smug smile froze on his face. Oh?

Yes, I said. I am going with Professor Marsh. He takes a group of students with him each summer. There had been an advertisement in the paper the previous week; I vaguely remembered it.

What? Fat old Marsh? The bone professor?

That’s right.

You’re going with Marsh? Accommodations for his group are Spartan, and they say he works the boys unmercifully. It doesn’t seem your line of things at all. His eyes narrowed. When do you leave?

He hasn’t told us the date yet.

Marlin smiled. You’ve never laid eyes on Professor Marsh, and you’ll never go with him.

I will.

You won’t.

I tell you, it’s already decided.

Marlin sighed in his patronizing way. I have a thousand dollars that says you will not go.

Marlin had been losing the attention of the table, but he got it back with that one. A thousand dollars was a great deal of money in 1876, even from one rich boy to another.

A thousand dollars says you won’t go west with Marsh this summer, Marlin repeated.

You, sir, have made a wager, I replied. And in that moment I realized that, through no fault of my own, I would now spend the entire summer in some ghastly hot desert in the company of a known lunatic, digging up old bones.

Marsh

Professor Marsh kept offices in the Peabody Museum on the Yale campus. A heavy green door with large white lettering read Prof. O. C. Marsh. Visitors by written appointment only.

Johnson knocked. There was no reply, so he knocked again.

Go away.

Johnson knocked a third time.

A small panel opened in the center of the door, and an eye squinted out. What is it?

I want to see Professor Marsh.

But does he want to see you? demanded the eye. I doubt it.

I am replying to his notice. Johnson held up the newspaper advertisement from the week before.

Sorry. Too late. Positions all filled. The door panel snapped shut.

Johnson was not accustomed to being denied anything, particularly a silly trip he did not want in the first place. Angrily, he kicked the door. He stared at the buggy traffic on Whitney Avenue. But with his pride, and a thousand dollars, hanging in the balance, he got control of himself, and knocked politely once more. I’m sorry, Professor Marsh, but I really must go west with you.

Young man, the only place you must go is away. Go away.

Please, Professor Marsh. Please let me join your expedition. The thought of his humiliation before Marlin was awful to Johnson. His voice choked; his eyes watered. Please hear me out, sir. I’ll do whatever you say, I’ll even provide my own equipment.

The panel snapped open again. Young man, everyone provides their own equipment, and everyone does whatever I say, except you. You are presenting an unmanly spectacle. The eye peered out. Now go away.

Please, sir, you have to take me.

If you wanted to come you should have answered the advertisement last week. Everyone else did. We had thirty candidates to choose from last week. Now we have selected everyone except— You’re not, by any chance, a photographer?

Johnson saw his chance and leapt at it. A photographer? Yes, sir, I am! I am indeed.

Well! You should have said so at once. Come in. The door swung open wide, and Johnson had his first full look at the heavy, powerful, solemn figure of Othniel C. Marsh, Yale’s first professor of paleontology. Of medium height, he appeared to enjoy a fleshy, robust health.

Marsh led him back into the interior of the museum. The air was chalky and shafts of sunlight pierced it like a cathedral. In a vast cavernous space, Johnson saw men in white lab coats bent over great slabs of rock, chipping bones free with small chisels. They worked carefully, he saw, and used small brushes to clean their work. In the far corner, a gigantic skeleton was being assembled, the framework of bones rising to the ceiling.

"Giganthopus marshiensis, my crowning achievement, Marsh said, nodding toward the looming beast of bones. To date, that is. Discovered her in ’74, in the Wyoming Territory. I always think of her as her. What is your name?"

William Johnson, sir.

What does your father do?

My father is in shipping, sir. Chalky dust hung in the air; Johnson coughed.

Marsh looked suspicious. Are you unwell, Johnson?

No, sir, perfectly well.

I cannot abide sickness around me.

My health is excellent, sir.

Marsh appeared unconvinced. How old are you, Johnson?

Eighteen, sir.

And how long have you been a photographer?

A photographer? Oh, uh—from my youth, sir. My, uh—my father took pictures and I learned from him, sir.

You have your own equipment?

Yes—uh, no, sir—but I can obtain it. From my father, sir.

You are nervous, Johnson. Why is that?

I’m just eager to go with you, sir.

Are you. Marsh stared at him, as if Johnson were a curious anatomical specimen himself.

Uneasy under that stare, Johnson attempted a compliment. I’ve heard so many exciting things about you, sir.

Indeed? What have you heard?

Johnson hesitated. In truth, he had heard only that Marsh was an obsessive, driven man who owed his college position to his monomaniacal interest in fossil bones, and to his uncle, the famous philanthropist George Peabody, who had provided the funding for the Peabody Museum, for Marsh’s professorship, and for Marsh’s annual field trips to the West.

Only that students have found it a privilege and an adventure to accompany you, sir.

Marsh was silent for a moment. Finally, he said, I dislike compliments and idle flattery. I don’t like to be called ‘sir.’ You may refer to me as ‘Professor.’ As for privilege and adventure, I offer damned hard work and plenty of it. But I’ll say this: all my students have come back alive and well. Now then—why do you want to go so much?

Personal reasons, si— Professor.

All reasons are personal reasons, Johnson. I’m asking yours.

Well, Professor, I am interested in the study of fossils.

You are interested? You say you are interested? Young man, these fossils—his hand swept wide, gesturing to the room—these fossils do not invite interest. They invite passionate commitment, they invite religious fervor and scientific speculation, they invite heated discourse and argument, but they do not thrive on mere interest. No, no. I am sorry. No, no, indeed.

Johnson feared he had lost his opportunity with his chance remark, but in another swift change, Marsh smiled and said, Never mind, I need a photographer and you are welcome to come. He extended his hand, and Johnson shook it. Where are you from, Johnson?

Philadelphia.

The name had an extraordinary effect on Marsh. He dropped Johnson’s hand, and took a step back. Philadelphia! You—you—you are from Philadelphia?

Yes, sir, is there something wrong with Philadelphia?

Don’t call me ‘sir’! And your father is in shipping?

Yes, he is.

Marsh’s face turned purple; his body shook with rage. And I suppose you are a Quaker, too? Hmmm? A Quaker from Philadelphia?

No, Methodist, actually.

Isn’t that very close to Quaker?

I don’t think so.

But you live in the same city that he does.

That who does?

Marsh fell silent, frowning, staring at the floor, and then he made another of his abrupt turns, shifting his bulk. For a large man he was surprisingly agile and athletic.

Never mind, he said, smiling once again. I’ve no quarrel with any resident of the City of Brotherly Love, whatever they may say. And yet I imagine you are wondering where my expedition is going this summer, to look for fossils?

The question had never crossed Johnson’s mind, but to show proper interest, he replied, I am a bit curious, yes.

I imagine you are. Yes. I imagine you are. Well, it is a secret, Marsh said, leaning close to Johnson’s face and hissing the words. Do you understand me? A secret. And it will remain a secret, known only to me, until we are on the train headed west. Is that completely understood?

Johnson backed away under the vehemence of the words. Yes, Professor.

Good. If your family desires to know your destination, tell them Colorado. It isn’t true, for we won’t go to Colorado this year, but that doesn’t matter because you’ll be out of touch anyway, and Colorado is a delightful place not to be. Understood?

Yes, Professor.

Good. Now then, we depart June 14, from Grand Central Depot in New York. Returning no later than September 1 to the same station. See the museum secretary tomorrow and he will give you a list of provisions you are to provide—in addition, in your case, to your photographic equipment. You will allow supplies sufficient for a hundred photographs. Any questions?

No, sir. No, Professor.

Then I will see you at the platform on June 14, Mr. Johnson. They shook hands briefly. Marsh’s hand was damp and cold.

Thank you, Professor. Johnson turned and headed toward the door.

Ah, ah, ah. Where do you think you are going?

To leave.

By yourself?

I can find my way—

No one, Johnson, is permitted unescorted movement through this office. I am not a fool, I know there are spies eager to look at the latest drafts of my papers, or the latest bones to emerge from the rock. My assistant Mr. Gall will see you out. At the mention of his name, a thin, pinched man in a lab coat put down his chisel and walked with Johnson to the door.

Is he always like this? Johnson whispered.

Lovely weather, Gall said, and smiled. Good day to you, sir.

And William Johnson was back out on the street.

Learning Photography

Johnson wanted nothing more than to escape the terms of his wager and this impending expedition. Marsh was obviously a lunatic of the first order, and conceivably dangerous as well. He fixed on having another meal with Marlin, and somehow extricating himself from the bet.

Yet that evening, to his horror, he learned that the wager had become notorious. It was now known broadly throughout the College, and all during dinner people came to his table to talk about it, to make some small comment or joke. Backing out now was inconceivable.

He realized then he was doomed.

The following day he went to the shop of Mr. Carlton Lewis, a local photographer, who offered twenty lessons in his craft for the outrageous sum of fifty dollars. Mr. Lewis was amused with this new pupil; photography was not a rich man’s pursuit, but rather a shifty business for people who lacked the capital to embark on a more prestigious livelihood. Even Mathew Brady, the most famous photographer of his day, the chronicler of the Civil War, the man who photographed statesmen and presidents, had never been treated as anything but a servant by the eminent subjects who sat for him.

But Johnson was adamant, and over a period of weeks he learned the skills behind this method of recording, introduced from France forty years earlier by the telegrapher Samuel Morse.

The process then in vogue was the wet plate photographic technique; in a darkened room or tent, fresh chemicals were mixed on the spot, and sheets of glass coated with a sticky, light-sensitive emulsion. The newly made wet plates were then rushed to the camera and exposed to the scene while still wet. Considerable skill was required to prepare an evenly coated plate, and then to expose it before the plate dried; later development was easy by comparison.

Johnson learned with difficulty. He could not carry out the steps fast enough, with the easy rhythms of his teacher; his early emulsions were too thick or too thin, too wet or too dry; his plates had bubbles and dripped densities that made his pictures amateurish. He hated the confined tent, the darkness, and the smelly chemicals that irritated his eyes, stained his fingers, and burned his clothes. Most of all he hated the fact that he couldn’t master the craft easily. And he hated Mr. Lewis, who tended to philosophize.

You expect everything to be easy because you are rich, Lewis would chuckle, watching him fumble and swear. But the plate doesn’t care how rich you are. The chemicals don’t care how rich you are. The lens doesn’t care how rich you are. You must first learn patience, if you wish to learn anything at all.

Damn you, Johnson would say, irritated. The man was nothing but an uneducated shopkeeper putting on airs.

I am not the problem, Lewis would reply, taking no offense. You are the problem. Now come: try again.

Johnson ground his teeth and swore under his breath.

But as the weeks passed, he did improve. By late April his plates were uniform in density, and he was working swiftly enough to make good exposures. His plates were crisp and sharp, and he was pleased as he showed them to

Reviews for Dragon Teeth

[lilibrarian · Rating: 5 out of 5 stars]

When William Johnson accepted a bet and joined an expedition west in search of dinosaur bones, he knew he was heading to a place very different than his hometown of Philadelphia. But he wasn't expecting to be caught in the middle of the Indian Wars, or in the middle of an escalating feud between warring paleontologists.

[jjbooklvr · Rating: 3 out of 5 stars]

Another "lost book" by the late Michael Crichton as he revisits the topic of Dinosaurs again, but this time we are just dealing with their bones. It blends fact and fiction as we journey to 1876 and the Bone Wars between Othniel Charles Marsh and Edwin Drinker Cope. The story is told through the fictional Yale student William Johnson. Fans of that time period will appreciate the references and appearances of several real life people. I thought Wyatt Earp was one of the better choices to include. We also get a more nuanced look at the Indian Wars of the time. Now for the downside. It does have the feel of an early draft and is not one of his best books. Overall, I still thought it was a fun read! A good choice for fans of the Old West, Paleontology, or just those who like adventure.

[marysneedle · Rating: 5 out of 5 stars]

This was a quick and exciting read. It had all the adventure, history, and science background anyone could want and expect from a Crichton story. Reading it took me back to all the vacations I have taken out west, and I could visualize the badlands, Black Hills, Deadwood, and the Rockies and relate to Johnson's experience when he saw the great panoramas and the wildlife in his travels.

[joannemonck · Rating: 5 out of 5 stars]

FAntastic. A mix of fiction and non-fiction keep the reader glued to the book. A young man (on a bet) goes fossil hunting in the old west. We have Indians, gunmen, Wyatt Earp and traitors. All the characters are colorful and the story was well written.

[lschwarzman_1 · Rating: 5 out of 5 stars]

Loved it! This was Michael Crichton meets Indiana Jones! This was the story of a young man who takes abet and winds up in the wild west with an early archaeological dig. Needless to say, this is action packed with adventure. It was a quick fun read. Crichton has always been one of my favorite authors; I hope works continue to be found for a long time to come.

[labdaddy4 · Rating: 3 out of 5 stars]

This work pales in comparison to most of Crichton's earlier works but it was good to read him again. The plot was rather fanciful and a bit preposterous but fun all the same.

[fhudnell-1 · Rating: 3 out of 5 stars]

The blurb for this book really tells all there is to know about it. There were a lot of info dumps about Indians, Custer and paleontology. I thought it was just ok.

[darthdeverell · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

Michael Crichton's Dragon Teeth: A Novel traces the fictional adventure of William Johnson, a spoiled student at Yale who, in 1876, goes west with Professor Othniel Charles Marsh to dig up dinosaur bones following a bet with a fellow student. Along the way, Marsh believes Johnson an agent of his rival, Professor Edward Drinker Cope, a fellow paleontologist. The story focuses on the then-burgeoning field of paleontology and the men who shaped it, as well as the Indian Wars and the culture of Deadwood, Dakota Territory. Crichton's well-researched novel firmly grounds his reader in the time and places he describes while the fast-pace allows for a "grand tour" of the West and plenty of character growth for his main character. While Johnson did not exist, many of the figures with whom he interacts did and, in fact, Crichton actually toned down some of their mannerisms and rivalries (especially that of Marsh and Cope) as he feared it would seem too outrageous for his readers. Crichton researched and wrote this prior to working on Jurassic Park, but, beyond an interest in paleontology, fans of the more famous novel should not look to this as a forerunner to that story. In both, Crichton's research and meticulous attention to detail allow him to insert his story into the existing science or history, but that is the only connection. With that said, Dragon Teeth is an excellent introduction to Crichton for new readers and an enjoyable read for long-time fans.

[benkline · Rating: 3 out of 5 stars]

A pretty "middle of the road" novel to be honest (akin to some of his other posthumous works). Fast paced with not a whole lot of nuance, subtlety, or introspection to it. Jumps from scene to scene with a final 'tagline' to end each chapter. No real threat to the character due to often remarks of "Johnson would late write in his journal : [insert writing] " or even the beginning of the novel which says, "This is a description of Johnson at the beginning, and here's a photo of him at the end, and this book is about what happened in the between time".

This is also one of those novels where it takes a ficticious character and links them to all of the fascinating events and locations and characters of a timeframe / time era (think Forrest Gump). Johnson meets Stevenson, Earp brothers, Hickok, Marsh, Cope, makes it to Deadwood, goes through the Oregon Trail forts (Brenton, Laramie, Cheyenne, etc).

Its a fun page-turner, but honestly not much more to it than that (was hoping for a bit more, especially since this may/may not be the last of his works we get, and was hoping for some connection to his later dinosaur works {Jurassic Park / The Lost World}, but alas, it was not to be).

[mahsdad · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

A posthumously published novel by Crichton. It tells the fictionalized story of the rivalry between real life paleontologists; Cope and Marsh and their search for dinosaurs ni the Bad Lands of the American West of 1876. It is told thru the eyes of a fictional Yale student; William Johnson, as he is pulled between the two professors. On his journey, of finding and protecting these new things called dinosaurs, he encounters savage indians, rampaging thieves, Wyatt Earp and is witness to the discovery of the first Brontosaurus (or more properly, the Apatosaurus).This is more of a wild west adventure story the the science-rich speculative story I would have expected from Crichton. But it works and it is a worthwhile read. More so when I learned in the Afterword that basic gist of the story was true.7/10S: 9/24/17 - 10/7/17 (15 Days)

[aurorapaigem-1 · Rating: 5 out of 5 stars]

This might be my new favorite Crichton book. As a wannabe child paleontologist, I learned a lot about Cope and Marsh and their battle for the bones. The way the are brought to life in this story along with some other classic figures from the American Wild West makes for a very fun read. I wish he would have written more if these historical retellings.

[atdcross · Rating: 5 out of 5 stars]

I haven't picked up a Crichton book in a long time and sort of forgot how enjoyable it is to read him, but this book certainly reminded me. The story, characters, events depicted in Dragon Teeth were so enjoyable I finished reading it into days; I just couldn't put it down.Crichton is probably one of my top three writers. Things I like about Crichton's writing:- His characters are enjoyable and interesting.- He writes as if he is sharing the true event, real people, or facts of science.- He successfully ends each chapter with the last sentence making you beg for more.- His writing style is easy, even when he uses scientific jargon.In Dragon's Teeth, we find an expedition in 1876 going west looking for dinosaur fossil bones in the midst of paleontologists at, at times, jealously, violent odds against each other, Indians uprising, murderers, and god-forsaken small towns.The chapter entitled, "The Second Attack," ended unexpectedly hilarious. Crichton interjects actual historical events and figure into his story that made feel I was reading a biography or historical non-fiction. Had to bop myself in the head to remind me its fiction! Sad that we will no longer be entertained by Crichton's storytelling.

[benuathanasia · Rating: 3 out of 5 stars]

Crichton wrote this decades before his death and decades before the height of his fame. Yet it wasn't published until after his death. I can see why Crichton sat on this one. It isn't up to his usual flawless standards. The narrative doesn't fit his voice and the plot doesn't fit his style. It's slow and plodding and stale. True, it tackles a a seldom discussed point in history and an fascinating period of scientific history, but it lacks Crichton's usual wonder and awe. Probably my least favorite of his works.

[henrimoreaux · Rating: 5 out of 5 stars]

Michael Crichton passed in 2008 yet releases a brand new book in 2017, how can this be? Apparently it was written i 1974 and sat unreleased in his archives and was recently unearthed, much like Pirate Latitudes (Micro was also unearthed but needed work by Richard Preston to publish). It definitely reads like the Crichton of old, compelling and immersive. I'm not one who would typically seek out a western type novel such as this however it really is more than just a western - there's plenty of adventure, odd characters, a spellbinding mixture of history and fiction. Set in 1875 it follows the journey of a William Johnson who seemingly lacks direction in life and signs up to go west on a palaeontology expedition as part of a bet. Throughout such he manages to overcome plenty of adversity and find himself coming back home a success with a new outlook on life.Would recommend for anyone who's enjoyed a Crichton book in the past or has an interest in American historical fiction novels.

[arielfl · Rating: 5 out of 5 stars]

What a gift to have another Michael Crichton book as he is one of my favorite author's. With his passing there has been a hole in the entertainment science niche that I don't think any other author has filled. He brought science to the masses. Crichton was one of a kind and yet another bright light taken out too soon by cancer. When you hear the book is about dinosaurs your mind can't help but go to Jurassic Park. The dinosaurs in this novel aren't walking around however, they are confined to the fossils they left behind. It is the 1870's and young William Johnson finds himself in an adventure in the wild west that he is ill prepared for with two competing paleontologist, Edward Cope and Othneil Marsh. Hostile Native Americans, gunslingers, and grifters all cross paths with Johnson as he desperately tries to protect 10 boxes full of dinosaur fossils. William Johnson is a made up character but Cope and Marsh were real as were other characters in the book like Wyatt Earp. My favorite part of the book were the scenes that took place in Deadwood. This is just a really fun western and learned a lot about the real life bone wars with which I was previously unfamiliar. I am so glad Michael Crichton's widow found this manuscript. If there are anymore please keep them coming Sherri!.

[Chase Freeman · Rating: 5 out of 5 stars]

It had aspects of history, science, theology, and biology all wrapped up in a gunslinging adventure in the Wild West. What’s not to love?

[tonifgmamtc · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

I enjoyed this better than I would have thought considering it's a western about hunting for dinosaur bones. It's great storytelling, and full of real life characters and places. There are so many ups and downs for the lead. He starts out a rich college boy and ends up a true survivor of the wild west.

[ennuiprayer · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

Wow. At first I was worried that this posthumously published book would fall into the rut as most posthumously published books do. But I loved it. I didn't want it to end so I paced myself, reread chapters, and got lost in the words.

[henrog-315853 · Rating: 5 out of 5 stars]

William Johnson is a spoiled rich kid who makes a bet with a colleague that he would go west during the summer with Prof. Marsh, the bone collector. This is very historic. Good read

[sgtcat · Rating: 3 out of 5 stars]

Pretty good. It felt unfinished, which makes sense considering it probably was. I don't usually read Westerns or watch them either. I picked this up thinking it would be another SciFi story. It wasn't bad though. Not at all.

[andy_dimartino · Rating: 3 out of 5 stars]

Nice piece of fictionalized history. Very enjoyable.

[Everlee Herdson · Rating: 5 out of 5 stars]

Another amazing Michael Crichton book! A must read tale! I thoroughly enjoyed this mix of fact and fiction!

[nwieme-1 · Rating: 5 out of 5 stars]

LOVED IT. READ THE AFTERWORD!

Started slowly... but who doesn't love dinosaurs and gunslingers??

[slmr4242 · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

I really enjoyed the historical fiction aspect of this.

[purpledog-1 · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

Dragon Teeth is a typical Crichton story. The pacing is fast in this historical fiction/thriller, and there are several excellent twists to keep the reader engaged. The story is about Johnson, a young Yale student, who on a dare travels west with a professor during the summer break to dig for dinosaur bones. Despite warnings about not going into Sioux territory the professor does just that believing the best bones are to be found there. Johnson should have taken heed and turned around. With the bet on his mind he proceeds on and is not deterred even when the professor, thinking he is a spy for a rival, leaves him stranded at the train station. Ultimately he gets a lot more than he bargained for and will be lucky to return east with his scalp still attached to his head. The only thing I wished for was more character development. Other than that, it is a great comin-of-age story sure to please any Crichton fan.

[catherineburkehines · Rating: 3 out of 5 stars]

This was very short, which was disappointing. Interesting, quick read.

[geoffhabiger · Rating: 3 out of 5 stars]

As a Crichton book, this tale was very good, but I think lacking a little probably due to being a 'lost' manuscript found after his death. It feels to me like it was missing some of the polish of his other titles, probably due to this fact. However, despite that I very much enjoyed the story of William "Foggy" Johnson and his rise from timid and pampered eastern Yale College man (boy?), to the rough and hardened man at the end of the story. As usual, Crichton paints a vivid story and creates a wonderful setting with some great characters. He is forced (by history) to take some major liberties with the other characters - especially Cope and Marsh - and these can (mostly) be forgiven in the interest of artistic license and weaving a good story. Sometimes though it felt as if characters from history were tossed into the story merely as window dressing, and not for any benefit of the story itself. But, in terms of character development, and following along on Johnson's adventure out West among the great men of paleontology of the day, this was a thoroughly enjoyable read. If you enjoyed previous Crichton books, you will enjoy Dragon Teeth.

[andsoitgoes_1 · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

Starts off slow, almost didn't finish it but got more interesting and ended really well. Glad I stuck it out.

[Laurie Kelly · Rating: 5 out of 5 stars]

I've always loved Michael Crichton and finding this work was such a delight. I couldn't put it down. Having visited many of the places described in the books - Deadwood, the Badlands, Laramie, Custer, Cheyenne made it even more fascinating.

[jillkenna · Rating: 5 out of 5 stars]

If I could give this more than five stars I would! This book was amazing and fast paced, I wish there was more of it to read.