A sharp taste of Himalayan climbing and the way harsh terrain can make a person disappear as if from the face of the earth.
Two climbing-team members recount a doomed 1982 attempt at Everest from the Chinese side with mounting uneasiness as the expedition falls apart.
Team physician Clarke and leader Bonington take turns charting the progress of the first try at Everest via the unclimbed North East Ridge, a route that was “elegant, unknown and [that] looked, from the few photographs we had, difficult but possible.” Clarke contributes material on the history of the region, earlier British exploration, British-Chinese relations, and the logistical aspects of the climb, including commentary about the road to Everest from Lhasa, the monasteries and nunneries, pilfering of camp supplies by yak herders, and the deplorable condition of base camp, a garbage dump of earlier climbs, where the greatest danger was broken glass. Clarke’s writing, straightforward as it is, is welcome leavening to Bonington’s story of the climb once it reached high altitude. Bonington’s tale follows the slow but steady progress up the mountain, the team’s digging snow caves and getting acclimatized, the brutal wind and blinding conditions. But the climbers were all at altitude for too long, and gradually worsening health claimed two of the team’s four summit members: one climber who experienced a minor but decidedly threatening stroke, and Bonington himself, a mountaineering legend who realized fairly early that he hadn’t the strength to make the top. This was a no-oxygen, no-porter climb, so there was room for few mistakes. Two climbers fast making their name in the sport, Joe Tasker and Peter Boardman, took their chances along the absurdly steep ridgeline, where a series of pinnacles had to be overcome before the long sweep to the summit. Bonington followed their progress with binoculars for a day and a half. Then they disappeared. No trace of them has ever been found.
A sharp taste of Himalayan climbing and the way harsh terrain can make a person disappear as if from the face of the earth.Pub Date: July 1, 2002
ISBN: 1-56025-390-8
Page Count: 202
Publisher: N/A
Review Posted Online: May 19, 2010
Kirkus Reviews Issue: May 1, 2002
BOOK REVIEW
An absorbing, wide-ranging story of humans’ relationship with the water.
A study of swimming as sport, survival method, basis for community, and route to physical and mental well-being.
For Bay Area writer Tsui (American Chinatown: A People's History of Five Neighborhoods, 2009), swimming is in her blood. As she recounts, her parents met in a Hong Kong swimming pool, and she often visited the beach as a child and competed on a swim team in high school. Midway through the engaging narrative, the author explains how she rejoined the team at age 40, just as her 6-year-old was signing up for the first time. Chronicling her interviews with scientists and swimmers alike, Tsui notes the many health benefits of swimming, some of which are mental. Swimmers often achieve the “flow” state and get their best ideas while in the water. Her travels took her from the California coast, where she dove for abalone and swam from Alcatraz back to San Francisco, to Tokyo, where she heard about the “samurai swimming” martial arts tradition. In Iceland, she met Guðlaugur Friðþórsson, a local celebrity who, in 1984, survived six hours in a winter sea after his fishing vessel capsized, earning him the nickname “the human seal.” Although humans are generally adapted to life on land, the author discovered that some have extra advantages in the water. The Bajau people of Indonesia, for instance, can do 10-minute free dives while hunting because their spleens are 50% larger than average. For most, though, it’s simply a matter of practice. Tsui discussed swimming with Dara Torres, who became the oldest Olympic swimmer at age 41, and swam with Kim Chambers, one of the few people to complete the daunting Oceans Seven marathon swim challenge. Drawing on personal experience, history, biology, and social science, the author conveys the appeal of “an unflinching giving-over to an element” and makes a convincing case for broader access to swimming education (372,000 people still drown annually).
An absorbing, wide-ranging story of humans’ relationship with the water.Pub Date: April 14, 2020
ISBN: 978-1-61620-786-1
Page Count: 288
Publisher: Algonquin
Review Posted Online: Jan. 4, 2020
Kirkus Reviews Issue: Feb. 1, 2020
While the author may attempt to mirror this ideal, the result is less than satisfying and more than a little irritating.
A disjointed debut memoir about how competitive swimming shaped the personal and artistic sensibilities of a respected illustrator.
Through a series of vignettes, paintings and photographs that often have no sequential relationship to each other, Shapton (The Native Trees of Canada, 2010, etc.) depicts her intense relationship to all aspects of swimming: pools, water, races and even bathing suits. The author trained competitively throughout her adolescence, yet however much she loved racing, “the idea of fastest, of number one, of the Olympics, didn’t motivate me.” In 1988 and again in 1992, she qualified for the Olympic trials but never went further. Soon afterward, Shapton gave up competition, but she never quite ended her relationship to swimming. Almost 20 years later, she writes, “I dream about swimming at least three nights a week.” Her recollections are equally saturated with stories that somehow involve the act of swimming. When she speaks of her family, it is less in terms of who they are as individuals and more in context of how they were involved in her life as a competitive swimmer. When she describes her adult life—which she often reveals in disconnected fragments—it is in ways that sometimes seem totally random. If she remembers the day before her wedding, for example, it is because she couldn't find a bathing suit to wear in her hotel pool. Her watery obsession also defines her view of her chosen profession, art. At one point, Shapton recalls a documentary about Olympian Michael Phelps and draws the parallel that art, like great athleticism, is as “serene in aspect” as it is “incomprehensible.”
While the author may attempt to mirror this ideal, the result is less than satisfying and more than a little irritating.Pub Date: July 5, 2012
ISBN: 978-0-399-15817-9
Page Count: 288
Publisher: Blue Rider Press
Review Posted Online: May 6, 2012
Kirkus Reviews Issue: May 15, 2012
BOOK REVIEW
BOOK REVIEW
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