I loved Chriton's books when I was an adolescent, and my interest in science was certainly fueled by them; actually learning what the dissapointing facts were behind them was a harsh dissillusionment that has ruined them for me. Some of this is the same as the way my increasing understanding of science has vastly reduced my ability to suspend disbelief for the sake of science fiction, but it's been more severe in Mr. Chrichton's case due to the way his blending of the possible and the fantastic was seductively believable when I was less informed.
If you don't want to be dissapointed, just don't bother looking up any real information on velociraptors.
Then again, Next is downright unbelievable no matter who you are, so I guess I'd have to agree that his later works have been lacking.
You will be missed, Mr. Chrichton. The Anti-dinosaur cattle-prod that bolsters my pillow as I reluctantly relinquish the last shreds of my boyhood shall be your legacy. One could do worse.