Into Thin Air, by Jon Krakaeur
Jun. 26th, 2008 10:21 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
keilexandraInto Thin Air: A Personal Account of the Mt. Everest Disaster
by Jon Krakaeur
293 pages (hardcover)
Genre: Nonfiction/Memoir
The first of my three assigned-reading books over the summer. In 1996 Krakaeur summited Everest as research for an article commissioned by Outside magazine. The guided expedition went horribly wrong; less than half of the team made it back down the mountain alive, and all three guides perished. Krakaeur admits straightaway that he wrote the book as a kind of therapy, catharsis; while usually the bane of all writing, I think that it lends his account raw immediacy. The fact that Krakaeur is an experienced writer, not a fumbling amateur, helps too. His excellent prose blends seamlessly into the background, never obtrusive or flashy. I ignored all of the chapter dividers--the design is too busy and conducive to skimming--but the narrative flows well despite time jumps. The beginning is a little slow to get going; the climax, however, flies by so fast that I was surprised when Krakaeur-the-character was helicoptered to safety and the story entered an extended denouement, just like that.
This isn't the type of memoir I usually read, but on its own merits it succeeds admirably. I actually cared a little about mountaineering by the end and I empathized with the lure of such a risky hobby. The latter is a feat because personally (fiscally and morally, NOT politically) I am conservative and I usually sneer with disdain upon crazy people who go around climbing the world's tallest mountain. A good book; I wouldn't say it was great, but YMMV.
by Jon Krakaeur
293 pages (hardcover)
Genre: Nonfiction/Memoir
The first of my three assigned-reading books over the summer. In 1996 Krakaeur summited Everest as research for an article commissioned by Outside magazine. The guided expedition went horribly wrong; less than half of the team made it back down the mountain alive, and all three guides perished. Krakaeur admits straightaway that he wrote the book as a kind of therapy, catharsis; while usually the bane of all writing, I think that it lends his account raw immediacy. The fact that Krakaeur is an experienced writer, not a fumbling amateur, helps too. His excellent prose blends seamlessly into the background, never obtrusive or flashy. I ignored all of the chapter dividers--the design is too busy and conducive to skimming--but the narrative flows well despite time jumps. The beginning is a little slow to get going; the climax, however, flies by so fast that I was surprised when Krakaeur-the-character was helicoptered to safety and the story entered an extended denouement, just like that.
This isn't the type of memoir I usually read, but on its own merits it succeeds admirably. I actually cared a little about mountaineering by the end and I empathized with the lure of such a risky hobby. The latter is a feat because personally (fiscally and morally, NOT politically) I am conservative and I usually sneer with disdain upon crazy people who go around climbing the world's tallest mountain. A good book; I wouldn't say it was great, but YMMV.