A quick summary, for folks living under a rock: in 1996, a storm typical of the highest reaches of Mt Everest led to the deaths of 8 climbers, the deadliest single day in Everest's history (until an avalanche in early 2014). Jon Krakauer, along for the climb as the author of an article on the commercialization of Everest, survived. INTO THIN AIR is his account of the disaster, including the events leading up to the summit attempt and critical analysis of the accumulation of human errors which, exacerbated by the blizzard, contributed to the massive death toll.
The book is gripping. Partway through I noticed I was actively participating: gasping, gritting my teeth, at one point I shouted "NO DON'T!" How can a reader not succumb to the tension and thrill of a well-told adventure story?
Written well, thrills, spills and chills, on their own, are sufficient fodder for a very engaging book, but INTO THIN AIR is more than a well-told adventure story. It is also a catharsis of sorts, an attempt to explain and atone for his role in the deaths of his friends, and in that capacity it becomes something more: an invitation to contemplate humans' desire to push boundaries, achieve milestones and break records just for the hell of it. "I wouldn't do that," I kept thinking; all the way back to the initial question, SHOULD I GO TO EVEREST? Uh, no, I wouldn't do that. But I understand the impulse: my siblings and I made an attempt at the Appalachian Trail in 2013. Why? Because it's an adventure. Because it's there.
As a narrative, it's incredibly frustrating (thus the gasping, gritting of teeth, and "NO DON'T!"). Most errors in judgement during the climb are slight but they are many, and they are amplified in the harsh conditions atop Everest. Readers know from the outset the outcome of the climb, so every error is an opportunity for readers to judge the climbers. But as Krakauer points out, there is danger in judging these people, all suffering from the effects of low oxygen at high altitude including significantly decreased reasoning skills, from the safe perspective of richly oxygenated sea level. And yet he himself, in hindsight from his home at sea level, can't help but judge himself and the other climbers, and at the time of writing, he was still suffering from what was, essentially, PTSD although he does not name it as such.
Having finished the book, I have since learned that there has been a significant amount of backlash against this book, most notably from one of the guides who survived and from the families of the dead. There are at least 3 other accounts of the disaster (one by the aforementioned guide, and two by other climbing clients). I'm interested in reading those accounts as well; I think the comparisons are worthwhile. Where the accounts vary, how can we assess with any certainty whose account is "true"? As representations of personal experience, I imagine they're all truthful -- certainly, this one is.
The audiobook
Drawback: when listening while driving, I had no access to the map helpfully provided in digital form on one of the CDs and (presumably) in living color in the print version. It would have been nice to have a map. It would also have been nice to have lists of the members of each climbing expedition. I lost track a few times of which climbers were guides, which were clients, and which expedition they belonged to, and in the end this ends up mattering.
Read by the author, who is obviously not a voice actor. He tends toward the monotone, and I probably wouldn't pick him as the reader of other audiobooks, but it feels... truthful.
Spectacular book, but it probably works a little better in print.
