2024 read #6: Dinotopia by James Gurney.*

Dinotopia: A Land Apart from Time, written and illustrated by James Gurney*

159 pages

Published 1992

Read January 10

Rating: 3.5 out of 5

* Denotes a reread.

1992 was a signal year for dinosaur fiction, wasn’t it? Between Dinotopia and The Ultimate Dinosaur, you had two big, lush, beautifully illustrated volumes that mingled fiction and paleo art in a way I don’t think I’ve seen before or since. The artwork in both books is spectacular. Both incorporated some variation on “Dinosaurs aren’t just for kids anymore!” in their respective introductions. The fiction in Ultimate Dinosaur hasn’t aged so well; how about Dinotopia?

I didn’t encounter Dinotopia until 2001 or so, when I was first living on my own and scraping together enough income to treat myself to some books. At the time, I thought it was brilliant. “Breathe deep, seek peace” became my go-to email signature for a short while. Treetown and Waterfall City took root deep in my imagination, cropping up in various guises in my own writing and my D&D campaigns. I don’t think I’ve read it again since those early oughts days, though.

Dinotopia is steeped in a classically nineties hippie vibe. Our protagonists, Arthur Denison and his son Will, are rescued from a shipwreck by helpful dolphins, who tow them to the lost world, where people of all races live in harmony with extinct animals from various eras, mingling their cultures and creeds into a peaceful and prosperous ecological utopia. It’s a little hokey, but charming in a way that reminds us, sadly, of how far to the right the Overton window has shifted over the last three decades. Imagine how the fragile Nazi crybabies would bewail its wokeness were it to be published today.

Of course, as a can’t-we-all-get-along nineties utopia from a white man, Dinotopia includes a remarkably large population of European descent, and barely anyone Black. I kept track: including a careful census of the large crowd scenes, I counted a grand total of four people clearly portrayed as of African ancestry. The only named Black character, Tok Timbu, has blue eyes (and is named as a phonetic anagram for Timbuktu).

The story is slight, little more than a travelogue that serves only to take us from one corner of Dinotopia to the next. The real star — and the only reason to get the book — is Gurney’s artwork. It’s dated but relentlessly delightful, especially the wider compositions that mix dinosaurs into quaint scenes of fantastic architecture and human pageantry. I also love the interior scenes that incorporate details like sauropod marionettes and Lambeosaurocycles. Honestly, the paintings of Treetown alone bump up my rating by half a star.