Airframe was an interesting read, much like Crichton’s earliest work, The Andromeda Strain. And, like The Andromeda Strain, both fall into the category of what I’ve been calling “scientific mystery” novels that tend to focus on the science of a particular subject rather than the tense action of, say Jurassic Park or Prey. With Airframe Crichton chooses to focus on – as if you couldn’t tell – airplanes, and the way they’re constructed and function.

It’s hard not to keep comparing the two novels despite the fact they were written almost 30 years apart. Airframe kick-starts with a catastrophe that brings in the protagonist of the novel, tasked with figuring out what went wrong. Although I haven’t read all of Crichton’s novels, this just feels way too familiar. Still, the characters are written well, and the information is presented in a way that – at least to those who know little about the way aircraft function – makes sense. Half the fun is trying to figure out the mystery.

The biggest problem I had with Airframe is that it didn’t stand out as much as its predecessor, and often times felt a bit too simple despite the constant barrage of technical information. Its scope is much narrower than you’d think, and the book overall just feels a tad uninspired (as much as it pains me to say). That’s not to say it isn’t worth reading, or that it’s badly written in any way. I’m simply comparing it to some of Crichton’s other works.

In the end, Airframe is the kind of novel that will make you rethink about aircraft safety and investigative journalism (you’ll see why, if you read it), but it’s unfortunately also the kind of novel you probably will soon forget about after awhile.