Classic literature sucks. Its impact on modern literature should never be understated, but its value as true entertainment is consistently overvalued. Just this year alone, I have read classics such as Frankenstein, The Jungle, The Strange Case Of Dr Jekyll And Mr Hyde, Dracula, and War Of The Worlds, each a piece of classic literature in its own right, but all some of my least favorite reads of the year. 

Purportedly, Michael Crichton wrote Eaters Of The Dead on a dare, in an attempt to show that classic literature can still be exciting and meaningful when displayed in a new light. I do not remember reading Beowulf in high school, and unsuccessfully trying to read The Divine Comedy this year has dissuaded me from trying any more epic poetry. 

Eaters Of The Dead is an interesting chimera of a book, one part homage to the real adventures of Muslim traveler Ahmad ibn Fadlan and one part retelling of Beowulf. It is safe in its delivery, and never tries to be something that it is not. At face value, Eaters Of The Dead is an epic battle between monsters and vikings; however, underneath its flashy battles, Eaters Of The Dead examines culture shock and cross-culture friendships.

Does reading Eaters Of The Dead make me want to read Beowulf again? Of course not. But Eaters Of The Dead captures enough of the influence and magic of the original story to make it worthwhile for those that are interested in Beowulf but too afraid to tackle the original text.

(May none of my old Language Arts teachers come after me for not addressing the obvious differences in the two texts.)