A brief but exciting read about a modern adventurer walking in the footsteps of his hero, Antarctic explorer Ernest Shackleton. In addition to a quick overview of the earliest polar expeditions, this book covers Henry Worsley's successful journey as well as the disastrous solo attempt that followed years later. The story touches on hero worship and the limits of human endurance as well as reminding the reader just how much untouched and inhospitable terrain remains on our planet.
As a two-part New Yorker essay, this was perfectly sized. However, had I paid for the published book edition (currently $12 on Amazon) I likely would have felt ripped-off. This book is more of a breezy sketch than an in-depth day-by-day portrayal.
Can one call it a tragedy when persons go, against their better judgment, on a long walk against the elements, and end up having their toes amputated and even die?
Even though I cannot help but think of this book as a kind of description of the male ego—trying to go against all odds, proving oneself despite having a family at home which you'll leave devastated if you die—at its worst, it's very nicely written and structured.
Yet Shackleton, fearing for his men’s welfare, retreated again. After returning to England, he didn’t discuss his failure with his wife, Emily, though he said, “A live donkey is better than a dead lion, isn’t it?”
That's from Shackleton, an old explorer with whom the main character in this story was obsessed with.
On the return journey, he and his four men, including Edward Wilson, ran out of food. “We shall die like …
Can one call it a tragedy when persons go, against their better judgment, on a long walk against the elements, and end up having their toes amputated and even die?
Even though I cannot help but think of this book as a kind of description of the male ego—trying to go against all odds, proving oneself despite having a family at home which you'll leave devastated if you die—at its worst, it's very nicely written and structured.
Yet Shackleton, fearing for his men’s welfare, retreated again. After returning to England, he didn’t discuss his failure with his wife, Emily, though he said, “A live donkey is better than a dead lion, isn’t it?”
That's from Shackleton, an old explorer with whom the main character in this story was obsessed with.
On the return journey, he and his four men, including Edward Wilson, ran out of food. “We shall die like gentlemen,” Scott scribbled in his diary, before they all perished.
This is more a hagiography about intrepid conquerors rather than about humans.
Worsley and his men moved in single file and rarely spoke, hearing only the thumping of their sleds or the soundtracks on their iPods. Adams loved to listen to Rachmaninoff’s Vespers; Gow sometimes trudged along to an audiobook of Lansing’s Endurance. Worsley’s playlist included Bruce Springsteen and the Seeger Sessions Band playing “Eyes on the Prize” (“I got my hand on the gospel plow / Won’t take nothing for my journey now”) and “We Shall Overcome” (“We are not afraid, we are not afraid”).
Still, the book is saved by the writing style and its structure. And yes, I can't help but feel for the poor blighters who've set out into the big unknown (even though it's quite well known).
It's a good, tidy, small, and nice book. All hagiographies should be kept this small.
Can one call it a tragedy when persons go, against their better judgment, on a long walk against the elements, and end up having their toes amputated and even die?
Even though I cannot help but think of this book as a kind of description of the male egoâtrying to go against all odds, proving oneself despite having a family at home which you'll leave devastated if you dieâat its worst, it's very nicely written and structured.
Yet Shackleton, fearing for his menâs welfare, retreated again. After returning to England, he didnât discuss his failure with his wife, Emily, though he said, âA live donkey is better than a dead lion, isnât it?â
That's from Shackleton, an old explorer with whom the main character in this story was obsessed with.
On the return journey, he and his four men, including Edward Wilson, ran out of food. âWe shall die like …
Can one call it a tragedy when persons go, against their better judgment, on a long walk against the elements, and end up having their toes amputated and even die?
Even though I cannot help but think of this book as a kind of description of the male egoâtrying to go against all odds, proving oneself despite having a family at home which you'll leave devastated if you dieâat its worst, it's very nicely written and structured.
Yet Shackleton, fearing for his menâs welfare, retreated again. After returning to England, he didnât discuss his failure with his wife, Emily, though he said, âA live donkey is better than a dead lion, isnât it?â
That's from Shackleton, an old explorer with whom the main character in this story was obsessed with.
On the return journey, he and his four men, including Edward Wilson, ran out of food. âWe shall die like gentlemen,â Scott scribbled in his diary, before they all perished.
This is more a hagiography about intrepid conquerors rather than about humans.
Worsley and his men moved in single file and rarely spoke, hearing only the thumping of their sleds or the soundtracks on their iPods. Adams loved to listen to Rachmaninoffâs Vespers; Gow sometimes trudged along to an audiobook of Lansingâs Endurance. Worsleyâs playlist included Bruce Springsteen and the Seeger Sessions Band playing âEyes on the Prizeâ (âI got my hand on the gospel plow / Wonât take nothing for my journey nowâ) and âWe Shall Overcomeâ (âWe are not afraid, we are not afraidâ).
Still, the book is saved by the writing style and its structure. And yes, I can't help but feel for the poor blighters who've set out into the big unknown (even though it's quite well known).
It's a good, tidy, small, and nice book. All hagiographies should be kept this small.
