If you could overlook just how ignorant the main character was of anyone else's intentions, it was an intriguing book. The guy was a real dope. And it was a shame that most of the questions that came up during the story were only answered in the summary at the end, rather than truly being part of the story - like Crichton got tired of writing and just wanted to quickly tie up the loose ends in one paragraph. Where "Timeline" was one of the most thoroughly memorable books I've ever been through, this one will be notable only with respect to it's unfulfilled potential.
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