Prehistoric Enchantment of Twentieth Century: Popularizing Fairy Tales of Science: Dragons of Romance and Dinosaur Renaissance 

Examine a close reading of Jurassic Park with textual references and critical perspectives.

“The Lost World: Jurassic Park” franchise by Michael Crichton is a novelization of Mary Shelley’s “Frankenstein Or The Modern Prometheus”. Michael Crichton’s masterpiece of the science fiction genre satirically critiques scientific and tech revolution, biological evolution, DNA research, paleontology and chaos theory. Modern filmic adaptation stages the mise en-scene and psychodrama of Jurassic Park: Fallen Kingdom and Jurassic World Dominion through animatronics and computer generated imagery. Isla Nublar conservatory is a themed park of cloned dinosaurs genetically engineered and genetically modified from the fossilized DNA by International Genetic Technologies Inc.

InGen. Mathematician Dr. Ian Malcolm and geneticist Dr. Henry Wu perform pharmaceutical experimentation upon these captured herds of dinosaurs in the setting of Isla Nublar in Jurassic Park: popular science fiction and lost world culture of the paleontological deep times. Extremely rare species are preserved in conservatory but nonetheless,these predators become a threat to visitors. We must embrace complexity theory and /or chaos theory to examine the aftershocks and aftermath of climate change exposing environmental managers of Yellowstone National Park. Medical doctor buttressing as a bestselling novelist to publicize paleontological paranormalism and spiritualism of evolution, dinosaurs and extinction to truly massive audiences. Satirical critiquing of hubris and corruption of industry and politics intricately foreshadows behind the scenes of verfremdungseffekt. 

Western world industrialization, rationalization and global colonialism within the twentieth century have been sequestered of wonder and mystery, thus leaving a legacy of skeptical disenchantment. Language of myth, magic, romance, folklores and fairy tales are encapsulated in the engendering of dreams, visions and dantesque journeys, speculative illustrations through palentological-geological novels like “Jurassic Park” and “Lost World”. Even pure scientific discovery is an aggressive and penetrating act viscerally banishing equilibrium of flesh in the robotic cyborg posthuman. Protagonist paleontologist Dr. Alan Grant is gobsmacked with Ellie Sattler to discover prehistoric remains of atavistic beasts and meets John Hammond, the venture capitalist with growth potential in exchange for future profits founder of InGen and owner of Jurassic Park. Billionaire showman and pity bernam figure expostulates “That’s a terrible idea. A very poor use of new technology…helping mankind is a very risky business. Personally, I would never help mankind.”

John Hammond doesn’t feel humanitarian philanthropism and altruistic agency to cater for vaccination and immunization with bioengineering companies projects investments. His Visitor Center and Private Bungalow epitomizes eclecticism and eccentricities, while bereavement of fatalistic accidental death encounter epitomizes rationality of disaster from unemphatic corporate systems analyst. While strolling, the corporate magnate is flabbergasted by a tyrannosaurus roar (ironically defrauded of his own mischievous grandchildren’s recorder, he is fated to death trap by herd of Procompsognathus. Malcolm’s prognostication of awry of the genitalia female mutilation in the biological reserve.

Meanwhile computer scientist Dennis Nerdy unbeknownst to Malcolm smuggles dinosaurs embryos off the island and commits industrial espionage by infringing DNA samples to Biosyn because of his low salary and financial bankruptcy. Nerdy disables the park security system to pilfer the embryos initiating a cascade of failures disrupting electrical fences and what follows is  a power outage stranding protagonists. Postpounding creepy sci-fi science outpacing morality, human beings fate, technocrats of nature or the nature’s apocalypse wrecking human survivalism exhorts human beings pantheism in exchange for fertility and bounty from mother nature Gaia. 

With Wu’s assistance, John Hammond appropriates Jurassic Park to Modern Prometheus and Frankenstein, casting God to plague the world by unhindered and unregulated innovation is ripe for potential abuse and corruption; unless divination of celestial hierarchy intervenes the consequences of disastrous catastrophes imperils humankind. Icarus audacity of moira transgressing to critique insatiate profittering capitalism through central planning of greediness and recklessness embodied into economic rationalism associated with consumption and production. We should let nature take its course without coercion, curtailment, censureship and containment.

Soviet communists looking at death and despair all around them while Hammond is despotic and tyrannical to defend central planning policies and procedures to master nature. “You decide you will control nature”.  “You are in deep trouble because you can’t do it. Here you have made systems which require you to do it. [..] ‘’there’s a sudden, radical and irrational change which is built into the very fabric of existence.” Hubristic and naive characters like Hammond, Hu and Arnold wish to enforce measures to protect endangered species and mitigate global warming contrasting pragmatists and realists Grant, Sattler and Malcolm.

Further Reading, References, Endnotes and Podcasts

Wikipedia readings

The Most Iconic Scenes from the Jurassic Park Movies | Movieclips

Movieclips

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JURASSIC PARK by Michael Crichton | Book Review

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Jurassic Park by Michael Crichton Book Review & Reaction | When Crichton Ruled The Earth

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UCL Press

Chapter Title: Arthur Conan Doyle, Michael Crichton, and the case of palaeontological

Fiction, Chapter Author(s): Richard Fallon and David Hone, Book Title: Palaeontology in Public, Book Subtitle: Popular science, lost creatures and deep time, Book Editor(s): Chris Manias, Published by: UCL Press. (2025)

Image printed on paper of a woman wrapped in a yellow, blue, and red striped flag

THE REPUBLIC UNDER ATTACK

It is very unpleasant to know that ignorance and slander define a nation that shows attachment to the thugs and madmen who put their brains and audacity at the service of the “donkeys”. (Poor little donkeys, how clever they are).

The Republic enlightened all nations in its language as an Academy of wise writers, which it is, in contrast to that Body of illustrious illiterates who can be defined as Sacred Brays that the submissive peoples answer in chorus braying.

That neither the young or old, nor the old or young, nor the priest or the friar, nor the soldier or the civilian know very well what a Republic is, is a very unpleasant thing, when Republic can be called Liberty, Equality, Justice, Secularism, Fraternity.

A hoarse voice or sound defines the donkeys, thugs and madmen. Intelligence and truth first define the republicans. No to the American Republicans, because, from now on, a Donkey, with the appearance of a savager and a madman, appears in their Capitol surrounded by thieving magnates.

-Thank God we know how to bray and murder, exclaimed the inquisitors when they heard the bodies of witches, agnostics and atheists, burning in the bonfires, the flames being pushed upwards by a certain wind.

Now the same thing happens with modern savages and madmen, who define themselves as inquisitors, raising their necks with great grace, opening their mouths wide as they do when donkeys bray.

In happy Europe, Donkeys, savagers and madmen all know how to bray. As long as they live, will they continue to condemn us to eternal silence?

-Savagers and madmen are all psychopathic serial killers. History confirms it as a fact, as Thartac, god of the Hivites with the head of a Donkey, said.

 -The man with the head of a donkey is a tyrant, Samson told Delilah as she cut the hairs off his donkey ears.

-The Donkey was the first to speak, word! affirmed Bufon.

-Daniel de Culla

For the boy child sitting in the front row at the book fair

The flower is lonely

look how it weeps

look how the stone edge

precipice of the tips

of the tears form an iceberg

It’s tired of the night

its polarities

its dimensions

its ghosts

The flower finds the day empty

and filled with longing

solitude 

the interloper, regret

the people are as depressing 

as rain and winter light

The time to have children is over

I eat bread and cheese

for one

The light dims

Another night is over

And I am left to think

of our separation

the much younger

(than I am now)

woman in your life

I think of how fragile 

the word “ceasefire” is

“novelist”

and I come up for air

reach for memory

and all of its tenderness

What remains is this

a sickly father

the traits of manic depression

hope

Yes, hope

all of its blessed assurance

I find faith in a clock

The spaghetti of time

The years

turn into mist

while I listen 

to a poem by Akhmatova

I am not the only woman

who has felt alone

who has been rejected by a man

and became a poet

instead of a mother.

Your loveliness doesn’t hurt me anymore

Give me Marina Tsetaeva

Give me Karin Boyes

Give me Petya Dubarova

I sent you a poem

You did not respond

I told you I would always 

carry your heart with me

But it meant absolutely 

nothing to you

Europe has carried you away

but all it has given me

is quiet despair

The kind of desperation

of no longer having you in my life

You never read any of my books

You turn to Jhumpa Lahiri instead

Mohsin Hamid

while I have Fatima Sydow 

for courage

a fridge tart on the table

that doesn’t quite make up

for your absence

Dear Sister, I’m sorry

I’m sorry for what I said

or did not say

or what I did

in childhood

in youth

Just know this

I will always 

carry your heart

with me

and the scars

you have given me

for an eternity.

The Will

I dictate my will with an expansive smile

though tears have filled my saddened eyes,

for the thought of leaving my dog behind

has suddenly horrified my tranquil mind

with images of an adopter who becomes unkind.

With whom my pet is likely to abide

in the event of my demise

I simply cannot decide.

And since poets only become a financial success

shortly, or long after, their deaths,

I bequeath the revenues of my poetry and prose

to a publisher with a cause.

The beautiful dresses I never wore

are to be donated to a charity mall.

“Any death rites?”

the patient notary finally inquires,

after my very long spell of silence.

I have had a clamorous life,

so grant me a funeral that is very quiet:

no mourners whatsoever, no public grief,

only the sexton, an official, and a priest.

Let me rest in peace.

The Stars

They peep at us through holes in the sky,

which we, homo sapiens, had called the stars,

and marvel in horror at the wars and strife

that plight our lives.

Some send flying objects to investigate

Any possibilities of salvaging our earth,

but end up departing in sheer disgust

at humanity’s mistrust.

Others view the peepshow as a spectacle of terror

that is broadcast live

to deter their youth from contemplating crime.

I, on the other hand, perceive the light

that emanates from their peeping eyes

as a luminous gift for my very dark nights.

Serpentunatrance

The gods had drugged our cups with a substance

they had excavated from Planet Mars

and called it the Serpentunatrance.

It slumbers in the stomach and only crawls

when nutrients approach,

repelling digestion with nausea’s worms.

It wriggles as soon as blood cells are excited,

smothering any possible joys

that would surmount melancholy’s ploys.

It heaves unease into one’s chest,

diluting each breath

with sheer distress.

spent

<i am the flight>

im flying

air air rrr flash (to)

space (bar)

im immobilized

my hands _wings_feathers_shreds

im letting myself down

sip wind wind breath

dot space

point line curve straight

_/\___▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎_____________

the hospital intensive care unit rumbles

in silence

horse-house

I swallow the horse’s bow-legged apple

house is no use

I run to the other end of the rounded planet and return to a house that does not exist

Newmore

After long debates, the parliament finally approved the state budget presented by the government for the coming year. In a more ideal world there would be a poem instead of this text.

beast

who would dare to hug me:::

stomach digests panther fangs

the tail strangles the neck

sperm burns stubble

a soldier looks out of the

emptiness/purity of the fog

and begs for alms at the breast

wanting to latch all the milk out of the nipple

Shortest steppe poem

I’m no more

No title

I’m a dog and not a wolf

I’m a cat and not a tiger

I’m a worm and not a cobra

I’m a person and not [?]

RECIPES FOR A POWER-GRAB

Scenario #1

A country rich in minerals and trade

located on a gateway to the globe—

just might change hands if pressure is applied.

Attack! And say you’re bringing liberty.

Attack with well-armed troops, with drones and bombs.

Ignore all blood and grief. You come in peace.

Accept surrender. Now this goldmine’s won.

Scenario #2

Work from within. Don’t fire a single shot.

Build a base of angry guys with gripes.

Unite against a common straw-man foe:

immigrants, women, LGBTQ.

Repeat bold lies. Repeat. Repeat. Repeat.

Once you’re President, usurp the power

of Congress, and the country’s highest Court.

When you own both—no checks, no balances.

Then bust departments one-by one; install

head honchos with no skills, in debt to you.

Appoint a scapegoat– purge department staffs.

You now pull all the strings. No oversight.

Then strangle the economy with tariffs.

A trillion dollars can be milked this way.

Populace will be beaten, fearful, broke.

The country’s yours, and you’ve not fired a shot.

Scenario #3 

By tactics fair or foul, gain full control

of weapons that could atomize the planet.

Use the threat of nuclear revenge

to bend all countries to your will. The Heads

of States who moan about earth’s climate woes

will buckle when you threaten Armageddon.

They know that you don’t bluff. You never lose.

You’ll own the biggest empire ever known.

Copyright 3/2025                Patricia Doyne