Dustin Thomason begins “12.21” with a prologue in which a mysterious ancient figure pricks his arm, draws blood and then begins writing what may become “the most valuable artifact in the history of Mesoamerican studies.” In the genre to which this book belongs — thrillers Dan Brown could write with a reanimated Michael Crichton, which, given the emphasis on weird science, is not out of the question — this is just the author’s way of saying hello.  Cut to Venice Beach in Los Angeles, where the handsome Dr. Gabriel Stanton lives. (Not coincidentally, Mr. Thomason lives there too.) It is Dec. 11, 2012, and the crazies are selling “Mayan apocalypse” gewgaws. But there are also Christmas lights to be seen.  “Fortunately,” Mr. Thomason writes, “it seemed not everyone in Venice believed Dec. 21 would bring the end of the world.” So now we know which calamity this book will exploit.  But Mr. Thomason, who wrote “The Rule of Four” with Ian Caldwell, likes to instruct at least as much as he likes to scare. “The Rule of Four” took its readers on a riddle-solving tour of the 1499 Hypnerotomachia Poliphili, one of the most elaborate and baffling literary artifacts. It’s an impossible act to follow.  But “12.21” does its best with Qu’iche, which is not cheesy or edible; Maya glyphs, which as depicted here look a teensy bit like cartoon drawings; bat guano, which has more historical resonance than you might think; and mad cow disease, or something akin to it. Cries of “vooge, vooge, vooge!” also fill the air.  Dr. Stanton is at his laboratory when what appears to be a case of prion disease breaks out in East Los Angeles. Prions? All you need to know, for purposes of “12.21,” is that these tiny proteins occur in all normal animal brains but can wreak havoc if they run amok. Symptoms seen in “12.21” include dementia, hallucinations, insomnia, reckless freeway driving and a compulsion to say things that only Chel Manu, a rising star in the field of Maya studies, can understand.  In a book that conflates scholarly credentials with sex appeal, Chel is a very busy expert. Her regular professional haunts include U.C.L.A. lecture halls, a research lab at the Getty Museum and the Cathedral of Our Lady of the Angels, where the Guatemalan-born Chel, who is of Maya descent, helps immigrants and communicates in Qu’iche when necessary. “Tewchuninaq ub’antajik q’ukumatz, ajyo’l k’aslemal”: there’s a bit of Qu’iche to explain why Chel’s linguistic skills are so much in demand. Epigraphy is her specialty.  A man visiting the cathedral slips Chel a hot codex, asking her to hide it at the Getty. Since the codex reeks of bat guano, it indeed smells authentic, redolent of an ancient tomb. Chel thinks the document is important to her people’s history, and knows she can decode it. So she hangs on to it long enough to get into professional trouble. But her ex-husband, an archaeoastronomist, assures her that she is bound for academic glory. “After this, you’ll be a keynote speaker for the rest of your life,” he says.  Mr. Thomason constructs this elaborate foundation for “12:21” slowly and carefully. Still, it takes on a familiar shape. Prion disease will run wild. Its origins will have something to do with ancient Maya culture. Chel and Dr. Stanton will have to join forces. And there had better be a payoff beyond keynote speaking, because otherwise this is a very bland story. For all his doom and gloom, Mr. Thomason writes as if he neither feared nor expected an apocalypse late this year.  The latter part of “12.21” goes south when it takes a turn for the verbose once the codex is translated. Many long, italicized excerpts swamp the book. Only rarely do these passages yield anything priceless, like “then Jacomo the wanton dwarf spoke to me with anger,” or “when the grand executioner plunged his glistening flint knife into the man’s chest and ripped open his ribs ... .”  The book goes south literally too, sending Chel and Dr. Stanton into the Guatemalan jungle. They go there to search for a lost city and, of course, save the world.  Mr. Thomason includes some thoughts about what may have caused Maya culture’s collapse late in its Classic period. This subject remains topical enough to have made headlines this week, when new studies emphasized drought and deforestation as factors.  The book conforms to these studies, but also adds a much more gruesome twist. The tameness of its endless lab scenes and academic shoptalk is more than offset by Maya cruelty that both the ancient codex and the story’s latter-day Indiana Jones-ing reveal.  On the spectrum of 12/21/12 foreboding, this book is definitely on the lightweight end of End Times. There are Web sites full of dire predictions, but there are also meet-and-greets like 2012. Connect, which makes an even more stunning prediction than the Maya did. “Regardless of what you think will occur on Dec 21 2012,” it promises, “you will find like-minded folk here.”
In â12.21â a doctor and a Maya scholar join forces to save the world from a sudden collapse, one foreshadowed by the puzzling demise of ancient Maya civilizations.