The Paleontologist Commentary

SPOILERS AHEAD!

“In the bones of the earth shall the truth be found.”

Two words: ghost dinosaurs. Need I say more? No, but I still want to.

Okay, so there’s something y’all may not know about me: I LOVE dinosaurs. When I was in high school, I co-founded with a friend a paleontology club where the few likeminds in the school could geek out over dinosaurs. Before I decided to pursue writing, I wanted to be a paleontologist. So, you can imagine my delight upon seeing the title of this 2023 horror novel.

Part mystery part horror, The Paleontologist is a fast-paced, thought-provoking story about chasing the truth, the expansiveness of geologic time, and the ripples of violence through the eras.

Luke Dumas’s The Paleontologist follows Dr. Simon Nealy returning to his hometown museum in rural Pennsylvania as the new curator for the dinosaur wing, but he has other purposes there too: finding out what really happened to his sister. 20 years ago, he and his younger sister, Morgan, visited the museum and, while briefly separated, Morgan disappeared. Not even the police investigation could determine what exactly happened to her, leaving Simon with an irreconcilable sense of guilt that eventually pushes him back into the arms of the very place where his life changed forever.

At the same time, Simon reviews records from his predecessor who is famed for having a mental breakdown about the museum being haunted. Here, Simon learns of a fossil collection deep in the museum’s basement that’s sure to bring renown and fame to the museum: a Ceratosaurus— a scary theropod like T. Rex that’s more of a crowd-bringer than the docile herbivorous dinosaurs that the museum currently possesses. The museum’s comeback hinges on Simon piecing the fossils together AND piecing the dinosaur’s story together. As Simon unravels more of the Ceratosaurus’s death, nicknamed Theo, he reads his predecessor’s journals where he documents his descent into madness. There, Simon also finds clues about his sister’s disappearance. But the journey is peppered with strange encounters in the museum. “Insane” things his predecessor wrote about in his journals grow less and less unbelievable. There’s something haunting the museum. And to Simon, it sure looks like a dinosaur. But dinosaurs can’t be ghosts… right?

For a dino nerd like me, this book was full of delicious references that I could likewise see stumbling some others with less knowledge on the subject. But, from my personal vantage point, it hits just right. The factoids, yes, they were fun to run into, but it was more than that too— a unique perspective on what dinosaurs are capable of: not only that they are capable of being ghosts haunting a museum, but that they are also capable of loving their siblings. While unearthing Theo’s skeleton, Simon comes across evidence of another’s presence who he later learns to be a sibling whose fossils are still underground in the Morrison Formation. Theo’s missing sibling reflects Simon’s loss of Morgan, driving him to right the wrongs of his sister’s investigation and Theo’s excavation, which left his sibling behind in the rock. If he can find Theo’s sibling, maybe he can find Morgan.

“There is always hope in finding.”

But, in paleontology, the act of finding is driven by the thrill of showcasing the fossils.

Dumas’s story operates from a viewpoint of traditional paleontology, which focuses on discovery and exhibition of fossils. From this ethic, digging up dinosaur bones and putting them on display, without the animal’s consent, is not only okay, it’s so expected that the idea of paying for fossil digs without the motivation to display the findings in a museum or in a private collection is laughable. But, lately, I’ve been wondering about this.

As I’ve reflected on my past choices, including the one to become a writer, not a paleontologist, I’ve pondered whether I’d be any happier in my old flame of a career. Did I make the right choice? When I imagine myself in that life, I picture digging up fossils and exhibiting them, and I feel a sense of sadness. If it were my bones fossilized in the earth millions of years from now, would I want my body parts on display in front of a completely foreign species? I don’t think so. A silly, sentimental part of me would feel bad removing the fossils from their resting places, then showcasing them for others’ entertainment. So, yes, I’d make a pretty bad paleontologist! Dumas’s novel stirred up all of these thoughts for me again, especially because of how the story portrays “justice” for Theo’s sibling. As Simon embarks on the mission of righting the wrong of Theo being separated from his sibling, the goal is not to return Theo to his sibling in their earthy tomb, but to remove the sibling and return it to Theo at the museum. It’s an interesting dichotomy compared to how the book ends for Simon’s sister. I won’t spoil that part.

I like the book even more for it getting these old wheels turning again. Don’t get it twisted: I understand the realistic motivations behind financing a dig and an exhibit. There’s no money to be made in leaving the fossils alone. There’s less opportunity for scientific discovery when the fossils remain embedded in the ground. Many of the dig sites are remote, rural locations, so it would be harder to get visitors to the fossils if they were to remain in their original spot. I know the notion of not digging up fossils is silly. The Paleontologist posits an interesting idea, though, that justice for a dinosaur looks so much like modern paleontology as created by human beings with 65 million years distance between us and them. None of this takes me out of the book; rather, it’s what I think about when I put the book down. It‘s what sticks with me.

For readers who, like me, grew up loving dinosaurs and wish there were more of them in the literary market, this book is welcome. Next to Jurassic Park, look no further.