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Executive Times |
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2007 Book Reviews |
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Next
by Michael Crichton |
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Rating: |
*** |
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(Recommended) |
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Click on
title or picture to buy from amazon.com |
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Patented Following his
lackluster novel State of
Fear, Michael Crichton has bounced back with a genetic engineering novel
titled, Next.
As he’s become wont to do, Crichton is calling attention through fiction to
the ways in which public policy needs to change. In this case, he’s concerned
about the gene patents that are being granted. In Next,
he carries the current momentum to a point that will give pause to most
readers. Here’s an excerpt, all of “CH002,” pp. 24-29: Alex had
been watching the jury all during the latest testimony. Their faces were
impassive, but nobody moved, nobody shifted. The gasps were involuntary,
evidence of how deeply engaged they were with what they were hearing. And the
jury remained transfixed as the questions continued: “Mr.
Burnet, did Dr. Gross ever apologize to you for misleading you?” “No.” “Did he
ever offer to share his profit with you?” “No.” “Did you ask him to?” “Eventually
I did, yes. When I realized what he had already done. They were my cells,
from my body. I thought I should have something to say about what was done
with them.” “But he
refused?” “Yes. He
said it was none of my business what he did with my cells.” The jury
reacted to that. Several turned and looked at Dr. Gross. That was a good
sign, too, Alex thought. “One final
question, Mr. Burnet. Did you ever sign an authorization for Dr. Gross to use
your cells for any commercial purposes?” “No.” “You never
authorized their sale?” “Never.
But he did it anyway.” “No
further questions.” The judge
called a fifteen-minute recess, and when the court reconvened, the UCLA
attorneys began the cross-examination. For this trial, UCLA had hired Raeper and Cross, a downtown firm that specialized in
high-stakes corporate litigation. Raeper
represented oil companies and major defense contractors. Clearly, UCLA did
not regard this trial as a defense of medical research. Three billion dollars
were at stake; it was big business, and they hired a big-business firm. The lead
attorney for UCLA was Albert Rodriguez. He had a youthful, easy appearance,
a friendly smile, and a disarming sense of seeming new at the job. Actually,
Rodriguez was forty-five and had been a successful litigator for twenty
years, but he somehow managed to give the impression that this was his first
trial, and he subtly appealed to the jury to cut him some slack. “Now, Mr.
Burnet, I imagine it has been taxing for you to go over the emotionally
draining experiences of the last few years. I appreciate your telling the
jury your experiences, and I won’t keep you long. I believe you told the jury
that you were very frightened, as anyone would naturally be. By the way, how
much weight had you lost, when you first came to Dr. Gross?” Alex
thought, Uh-oh. She knew where this
was going. They were going to emphasize the dramatic nature of the cure. She
glanced at the attorney sitting beside her, who was clearly trying to think
of a strategy. She leaned over and whispered, “Stop it.” The
attorney shook his head, confused. Her father
was saying, “I don’t know how much I lost. About forty or fifty pounds.” “So your
clothes didn’t fit well?” “Not at
all.” “And what
was your energy like at that time? Could you climb a flight of stairs?” “No. I’d
go two or three steps, and I’d have to stop.” “From
exhaustion?” Alex
nudged the attorney at her side, whispered, “Asked and answered.” The attorney immediately stood up. “Objection.
Your Honor, Mr. Burnet has already stated he was diagnosed with a terminal
condition.” “Yes,” Rodriguez said, “and
he has said he was frightened. But I think the jury should know just how
desperate his condition really was.” “I’ll allow it.” “Thank
you. Now then, Mr. Burnet. You had lost a quarter of your body weight, you
were so weak you couldn’t climb more than a couple of stairs, and you had a
deadly serious form of leukemia. Is that right?” “Yes.” Alex
gritted her teeth. She wanted desperately to stop this line of questioning,
which was clearly prejudicial, and irrelevant to the question of whether her
father’s doctor had acted improperly after curing him. But the judge had
decided to allow it to continue, and there was nothing she could do. And it
wasn’t egregious enough to provide grounds for appeal. “And for
help in your time of need,” Rodriguez said, “you came to the best physician
on the West Coast to treat this disease?” “Yes.” “And he
treated you.” “Yes.” “And he
cured you. This expert and caring doctor cured you.” “Objection!
Your Honor, Dr. Gross is a physician, not a saint.” “Sustained.” “All
right,” Rodriguez said. “Let me put it this way: Mr. Burnet, how long has it
been since you were diagnosed with leukemia?” “Six
years.” “Is it not
true that a five-year survival in cancer is considered a cure?” “Objection, calls for
expert conclusion.” “Sustained.” “Your
Honor,” Rodriguez said, turning to the judge, “I don’t know why this is so
difficult for Mr. Burnet’s attorneys. I am merely trying to establish that
Dr. Gross did, in fact, cure the plaintiff of a deadly cancer.” “And I,” the judge
replied, “don’t know why it is so difficult for the defense to ask that
question plainly, without objectionable phrasing.” “Yes, Your Honor. Thank you. Mr. Burnet, do you consider
yourself cured of leukemia?” “Yes.” “You are completely
healthy at this time?” “Yes.” “Who in your opinion
cured you?” “Dr. Gross.” “Thank you. Now, I
believe you told the court that when Dr. Gross asked you to return for
further testing, you thought that meant you were still ill.” “Yes.” “Did Dr. Gross ever
tell you that you still had leukemia?” “No.” “Did anyone in his
office, or did any of his staff, ever tell you that?” “No.” “Then,” Rodriguez
said, “if I understand your testimony, at no time did you have any specific
information that you were still ill?” “Correct.” “All right. Now let’s
turn to your treatment. You received surgery and chemotherapy. Do you know if
you were given the standard treatment for T-cell leukemia?” “No, my treatment was
not standard.” “It was new?” “Yes.” “Were you the first
patient to receive this treatment protocol?” “Yes. I was.” “Dr. Gross told you
that?” “Yes.” “And did he tell you
how this new treatment protocol was developed?” “He said it was part
of a research program.” “And you agreed to
participate in this research program?” “Yes.” “Along
with other patients with the disease?” “I believe there were others, yes.” “And the
research protocol worked in your case?” “Yes.” “You were cured.” “Yes.” “Thank
you. Now, Mr. Burnet, you are aware that in medical research, new drugs to
help fight disease are often derived from, or tested on, patient tissues?” “Yes.” “You knew
your tissues would be used in that fashion?” “Yes, but
not for commercial—” “I’m
sorry, just answer yes or no. When you agreed to allow your tissues to be
used for research, did you know they might be used to derive or test new
drugs?” “Yes.” “And if a
new drug was found, did you expect the drug to be made available to other
patients?” “Yes.” “Did you
sign an authorization for that to happen?” A long pause. Then: “Yes.” “Thank
you, Mr. Burnet. I have no further questions.” “How do you think it went?” her father asked as they left the courthouse.
Closing arguments were the following day. They walked toward the parking lot
in the hazy sunshine of downtown “Hard to
say,” Alex said. “They confused the facts very successfully. We know there’s
no new drug that emerged from this program, but I doubt the jury understands
what really happened. We’ll bring in more expert witnesses to explain that
UCLA just made a cell line from your tissues and used it to manufacture a
cytokine, the way it is manufactured naturally inside your body. There’s no
‘new drug’ here, but that’ll probably be lost on the jury. And there’s also
the fact that Rodriguez is explicitly shaping this case to look exactly like
the “So, counselor, how
does our case stand?” She smiled at her
father, threw her arm around his shoulder, and kissed him on the cheek. “Truth? It’s uphill,”
she said. Crichton
deftly presents ways to help readers think about the exploitation of human
genes. If you want to be entertained while thinking about genes, Next
will bring you pleasure. The author’s note and bibliography can tend to make
some readers think that this fiction is full of facts. Perhaps it is. It’s
also entertaining. Steve Hopkins,
January 25, 2007 |
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The recommendation rating for
this book appeared in the February
2007 issue of Executive Times URL for this review: http://www.hopkinsandcompany.com/Books/Next
by Michael Crichton.htm For Reprint Permission,
Contact: Hopkins & Company, LLC • E-mail: books@hopkinsandcompany.com |
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