We’ve all dabbled in it, haven’t we? Whether we’re burning magnesium in the chemistry lab because ooh shiny, or enjoying metabolic energy conversion while eating a Mars bar; science is great.
But science gets a bad rap in fiction, variously denounced for being arduously exhaustive or irresponsibly lazy. Rarely does “the science” catch a break.
Nor will I throw it one here, in this review of The Andromeda Strain, Michael Crichton’s breakthrough novel back in 1969.