Book 3: Into the Silence

Into the Silence: The Great War, Mallory, and the Conquest of Everest

Wade Davis

The story of George Mallory, would-be and possible first (known) conqueror of the world's tallest mountain, is perhaps easily forgotten in the age of Mount Everest's ever-increasing commercialization. In the wake of recent tragedies, however, it seems wise and timely to remember that ascending the mountain has always been an exceptionally difficult task. In Into the Silence, Wade Davis provides detailed descriptions of the first three British expeditions to this particular region of the Himalaya and attempts to place those attempts into the context of the interwar period. He succeeds quite admirably on the first account but, sadly, falls a bit short of the second.

The author's attempts to recall the war do offer informative insights into the psyches of the men who took part in the reconnaissance and climbing efforts of 1921, 1922, and 1924, but they tend to stand apart, interspersed with the main story yet simultaneously outside of it. These capsule biographies- which often focus on the war- appear throughout the volume, usually accompanying an early mention of a major figure, but seem to taper off toward the end of the volume, even as new (pivotal) characters make their initial appearances. They also have the annoying propensity to blend together, making it easy to forget who was who and driving the reader to lump all of the biographies together as something akin to "terrible experiences at the front." Davis has an uncanny ability to evoke the sights and sounds of the Western Front, as well as the attitudes that led to widespread British support of the war effort and the appallingly outdated tactics that effectively doomed a generation, but he never effectively links the war to the Everest expeditions. Sure, he states outright several times that there was a connection, and indeed it is evident in some of the personalities he describes, but he never actually ties them together. As a reader, I don't mind doing some of the legwork myself, but when the thesis is essentially the title of the book- and mentioned repeatedly throughout, no less- I expect a bit more active effort on behalf of the author.

Davis, does, however, create a compelling narrative, one obviously based on extensive historical research with the best of all possible primary resources, the explorers' letters and diaries. It is obvious that he tries to draw conclusions only when they are supported by available evidence, and he is usually upfront when making conjectures. That he does this in unobtrusive fashion is a credit to him and a great relief to readers. Despite creating biographies that all-too-often run together, he is able to bring these men to life, a feat made all the more remarkable by a lack of dialogue. The story itself is powerful simply because of its nature as one of Britain's final grand imperial gestures (which readers will recognize despite the author's seeming reluctance to actually connect the dots), but Davis presents it as an ongoing adventure into the unknown as the British walked, as one explorer put it, "off the map." The monasteries and people of Tibet come alive and, though readers will need to repeatedly consult the book's helpful maps to keep the geography straight, the mountain looms over all. Remarkably, Davis also manages to keep an aura of mystery and suspense in his telling of the story, though the ultimate outcome has long since been determined.

The writing itself is, at its best, remarkably vivid, respectful, and emotional, but I would be remiss if I didn't mention its primary flaw. Davis relies so heavily on the phrase even as that I began noticing every occurrence- and believe me, there are a lot of them- only a few pages into the book. Worse, he doesn't seem to be aware what the phrase actually means and implies, using it constantly as a substitute for the simple, yet accurate, as. That phrase does not mean what he thinks it means, and it often makes the text burdensome.

Grammatical gripe aside, however, the book is quite compelling from start to end. Davis's decision to include a sketched history of British interaction with Everest from the Survey of India's first sightings to the treatment of Mallory's corpse in 1999, as well as additional context about the history of Tibet and relevant figures and legends of Tibetan Buddhism, does place the early-20s expeditions in context, though some of that context does suffer from heavy implication and light actual treatment. Overall, Into the Silence is an excellent and engaging history of the Mallory expeditions.

Grade: A-

Book 2: The Andromeda Strain

The Andromeda Strain

Michael Crichton

I came into The Andromeda Strain expecting a fast-past plague thriller, as advertised by numerous blurbs on and within the book. Finding instead a science-based explorative story at a much more measured pace, I'm unsure to what degree my expectations influenced my disappointment. The plot initially shows much promise with the opening, featuring a mysterious plague, secret government projects, and a crack team of scientists poised to isolate and fix the threat, but any sense of impending doom is quickly whisked away as the scientists (and the readers with them) become isolated in an underground research facility. Crichton drops several hints that indicate that the book is supposed to be a fast-paced thriller, but his constant Obvious Hammer remarks that Something Is Amiss are annoying, misleading, and often dreadfully misplaced, inserting an overbearing narrator where the story and characters should be driving the action. Rather than ratcheting up any dramatic tension or exploring the relationship of the scientists to the world above that depends on them (a fact that Crichton constantly struggles to make clear), these not-at-all-clever asides frequently serve as reminders that events at the surface are actively ignored in favor of long-winded scientific explanations and too many tantalizing hints dropped and then immediately forgotten. The characters themselves are described in broad brushstrokes during their introductions and fail to develop any particularly distinguishing characteristics throughout the course of the novel; they're simply there, and though some actual characterization certainly wouldn't hurt the book, they are just sufficient enough to serve the narrative rather than becoming two-dimensional distractions.

There are aspects of the book that are well-done and even exciting; I was as eager as anyone to discover what the Andromeda Strain was, how it worked on Earthlings' anatomy, and how any and every delay would spell certain doom for the world. Yet after an entire novel full of efforts to explain just how foreign, how deadly, and how important the Andromeda Strain is, the book goes out with an utterly embarrassing whimper. Sure, I may have been expecting a full-blown plague novel (and that expectation surely contributed significantly to my feelings toward the book), but Crichton himself sets the scene for apocalyptic peril numerous times, only to end the book in the name of capital-s Science. The twist is clever and could work well in another context, but after repeated ominous warnings throughout the narrative, itself framed as a report issued after the fact, the reader feels cheated, not outwitted. The Andromeda Strain does not frame itself as a novel to playfully engage and mislead readers' expectations, and its meta-ironic, anticlimactic ending, while not misplaced given the book's celebration of the science that makes the ending possible, caps a disappointing experience.

Ultimately, The Andromeda Strain feels one-note and a bit plodding. Crichton does, however, deserve credit for some of the book's more pleasant aspects. While the overt narrative involvement often interferes with the plot and, indeed, the very tension it is no doubt intended to build, the framing device is effective. The blurbs may lie to the modern reader, but the book itself is what it is- a book about the powers of science- and rather unapologetically so. Crichton has written a very believable narrative shell and it is remarkable that, despite advances in computing that make the disease the book's primary science fiction element seem outdated (and render its punchcode references obsolete), there remain a few elements that keep this book firmly in the speculative domain. The biology-based inquiries hold up after time, and the book is just as plausible today as it must have been when it was first published. The Andromeda Strain contains a lot of frustrating asides and missteps, to be sure, and ignores or otherwise brushes aside the expectations that it and its reviewers establish, but it is nonetheless an intriguing look at the scientific method and the truly terrifying ability of unseen molecules to wreak havoc, if only we could have seen them doing so.

Grade: B

Book 1: Year's Best SF 18

Year's Best SF 18

Edited by David G. Hartwell

After an extended hiatus, I eased back into reading over the first four months of the year, and I found Year's Best SF 18 to be an excellent way to get back into reading with its strong group of (mostly) compelling stories. Editor David G. Hartwell has clearly made an attempt to reflect many of the genre's nuances by including stories of varying subgenres, styles, and length. Not all of the stories are particularly memorable (and some, of course, left me quite a bit flabbergasted for one reason or another), but the highs are very high indeed. Some of the highlights are the stories that effortlessly transport readers into their realms and explore those settings through the plot; these include Eleanor Arnason's delightful pastiche "Holmes Sherlock: A Hwarhath Mystery" and Naomi Kritzer's "Liberty's Daughter." Though the latter story ends on a bit of a cliffhanger (as it is part of a larger narrative), I was so drawn to the setting that I didn't even mind the ending; I can't wait to get my hands on the whole thing (if it comes into being). Every anthology has its duds and its stories that could be good for other readers- just not for me- but I was pleased with the overall quality of fiction here. In other contexts, I might skip the very military (but surprisingly intellectual) "The Battle of Candle Arc" by Yoon Ha Lee; instead, I read it and loved it. The story is set in a universe that is a little difficult to fully digest within the context of a single short story, but it has compelling characters and an ending that perfectly encapsulates a previously unnoticed theme running throughout the whole story. I believe, upon reflection, that it is "Weep for Day" (by Indraprimit Das) that has had the most lasting effect on me. Beautiful, elegiac, and allegorical, it is a deeply human story that serves as a fine example of the ways in which the fantastic settings, characters, and scenarios of science fiction can provide us with valuable and unexpected mirrors with which to view ourselves. Sure, there are plenty of aliens here, but Year's Best SF 18 demonstrates the vast scope of modern science fiction and offers enough variety that everyone should find at least a story or two that speaks to them.

Grade: A-

2013 Year in Review

2013 Year in Review

Just as I said for 2012's review post, I'm writing this here in the future (May 2014, to be exact). The reasons are personal and (unsurprisingly) related to the large drop in the number of books I read in 2013, possibly my lowest total ever since I first learned to discern letters and words in the first place. I'm happy to note, however, that when I did read in 2013, I chose good books, including two editions of a perennial favorite, The Best American Mystery Stories, and the Newsflesh trilogy, which offered a refreshing take on the zombie trope and some interesting future projections about technology and culture. I took on my first Stephen King novel, 11/22/63 and was not disappointed- I look forward to revisiting it. Sometimes, I guess, quality matters over quantity, and I can't let myself get caught up in the writing to the detriment of the reading. This is a scattered post, perhaps, but I promise that more and better things (and, of course, more reviews) are coming.

Book 14: 11/22/63

11/22/63

Stephen King

This is the first Stephen King book I've read, and though there are only traces of the horror genre herein, I can see why his writing is so widely admired. King has a way of effortlessly transporting readers into a different era- in this case, the early 1960s- and describes the surrounding world in a thoroughly realistic manner. Somehow, despite the novel's considerable size, the pages fly by, and small events (most of the novel takes place prior to- and much after- the titular occasion) take on significant import. Though the book always revolves around the Kennedy assassination, there is much more to the story than that, as readers (like the protagonist) learn to live comfortably in the 1960s. This balance between the ultimate objective (reaching Dallas by the time of the assassination) and the work that it takes to get there (day-to-day occurrences) allows the novel to settle and to become meaningful beyond its time-travel premise. Despite the comfort that readers and the protagonist ultimately find in the past, however, the novel has a consistent dark undertone that helps it retain a sense of mystery and, to a certain extent, impending doom.

This darkness hovers over the novel, occasionally dipping into obscurity, and informs many of the most pivotal events. Though the book largely focuses on daily life, King manages the time travel conceit wonderfully, from his vision of the fundamental mechanism to its implications. Nothing comes too easily in this novel, and though there is one aspect of the time travel that feels a bit contrived, King's ideas about cause and effect are integrated seamlessly into the text. He plays with the concept of established timelines and manages to make his vision of time travel and the universe's sense of self-preservation fresh, a neat trick in a crowded subgenre. Even though many of the events are foretold and the general shape of the plot is fairly straightforward, the book retains a kind of suspense. King is also to be commended for his take on the historical assassination itself; the temptation to draw up a convoluted alternate theory must have been great, but the chain of events he proposes keeps the novel firmly planted in reality, and that much more believable and effective for it. 11/22/63 is a book that draws you in slowly, but it never relinquishes its hold on the reader once it picks up steam. It's a book that's easy to get lost in and thoroughly enjoyable to read.

Grade: A

Book 13: The Best American Mystery Stories 2012

The Best American Mystery Stories 2012

Edited by Robert Crais

Year in and year out, I'm amazed at the sheer variety offered in these volumes. Though the traditional detective-type stories are few and far between, they are mostly enjoyable, offering unique takes on the genre as writers successfully reinvent the compelling narrative of a man (occasionally a woman) staring down a mystery. More common, however, are the more literary stories that somehow integrate crime, often in varying and unusual ways. The inherent variety will please most readers, though the stories do, of course, vary greatly in quality. Yet guest editor Robert Crais has selected a strong group of stories to represent the year in crime fiction, and The Best American Mystery Stories 2012 is a welcome addition to and continuation of the series.

Grade: A

Book 12: Angelmaker

Angelmaker

Nick Harkaway

I'm not quite sure where to even begin with this book- it's a mishmash of international espionage, sarcastic satire, apocalyptic fiction, steampunk, and high-tech science fiction. Despite all of this, it somehow still works, and I truly regretted finishing the book and leaving the improbably captivating world that Harkaway has created. Our protagonist is a typical unassuming hero who has inherited the anachronistic profession of watchmaker and who sees the world through an unmistakably English lens. The language of the book places it distinctly in Great Britain and, to a large extent, defines its charm and drives its humor. As the plot integrates a series of highly implausible events that are at times vaguely possible, fantastic but plausible in such a narrative, and utterly ridiculous, one is reminded of the works of Monty Python and Douglas Adams, who relentlessly maintain a degree of seriousness as the world crumbles into silliness. This quintessentially British point of view somehow ties the book together, despite its nearly continuous leaps directly off of the cliffs of insanity. As a consequence, however, there are many aspects of the book that teeter oh-so-perilously on the edge of complete ridiculousness, and one gets the feeling that the book won't completely make sense without the aid of several re-readings and the discussion of a highly educated book club.

Though it can sometimes be a quagmire, Angelmaker holds together remarkably well. Though some elements might be considered out of place, such as a very science fictional development with nearly infinite (and very serious) implications regarding the philosophy of existence and individuality, the plot moves forward relentlessly in both of its relevant timelines. The characters are interesting and the central mysteries utterly unpredictable- though I think this says more about the novel's inherent wackiness than Harkaway's inherent authorial abilities. Upon finishing the book, it is hard to comprehend in retrospect just how everything fits together- but take my word for it, it does, though some aspects of the book may not make much sense and seem a bit over the top (even in a novel that celebrates this kind of circus). There is something compelling about this book, something that makes me believe that it is, despite all indications to the contrary, not a complete mess. That Harkaway is even able to contemplate creating a coherent ending out of this jumble is a feat unto itself, and even if he is ultimately less than successful in constructing a particularly coherent story, there are enough interesting ideas crammed into the book that it's always interesting. The chaos somehow works; I have no idea how and who knows how I'll feel upon reading it again (which I am nearly certain to do). Angelmaker may be nearly completely inscrutable at times and completely insane, but I'll be damned if it isn't one hell of an interesting ride.

Grade: A

Book 11: Into Thin Air

Into Thin Air: A Personal Account of the Mt. Everest Disaster

Jon Krakauer

Though the 1996 Everest disaster is over a decade in the past, Jon Krakauer's memoir about his experiences on the mountain that spring should continue to fascinate modern audiences. There is, after all, something inherently timeless about the world's tallest mountain, and Krakauer's observations about the nature and effects of Everest's increasing commercialization seem ever more poignant now that the mountain's popularity among amateurs is at an all-time high (and growing). His account is accessible to the average reader with no climbing experience, and he does an exceptionally good job setting the scene, describing the mountain and providing crucial context for the ways in which the events of May 1996 led to eight deaths in a mere two days. Ever the journalist, Krakauer admits the biases inherent in his own account (he was, after all, suffering from the affects of altitude sickness), and accepts responsibility for earlier inaccuracies in his story regarding the death of Andy Hall. Though Krakauer is critical of particular individuals, he is careful to hedge his bets in what appears to be a genuine attempt to be fair while relaying his own opinion. The story itself is gripping from start to finish and Krakauer's skill in describing high-altitude climbing to the uninitiated might have (ironically) contributed to the romanticization of Everest, despite the fact that his account is largely centered on the inherit perils of attempting the mountain.. This accessibility, combined with compelling (if occasionally overly reverent) portraits of the primary and secondary players, make the book come alive; it is anything but dry and retains an air of suspense despite describing events that are now fairly well documented. The well-written Into Thin Air offers captivating insights into the world of high-altitude climbing and presents a valuable first-person insight into the nature of life and disaster on the world's tallest mountain.

Grade: A

Book 10: Beat the Reaper

Beat the Reaper

Josh Bazell

At its heart, I believe, this is a novel that tries to be many things at once: a biting satire, a fast-paced Mafia story, a bit of a thriller. What's remarkable is that, to a large extent, Bazell manages to pull it off. The satirical tone is established immediately by the protagonist's highly sarcastic, matter-of-fact voice, which remains consistent throughout the novel and lends an air of believability to a succession of wild events. Not insignificant is the narration's contribution to the book's considerable humor- though dark, most jokes land successfully due to their dry delivery. The book has a serviceable plot that interacts well with character-building flashbacks and consistently builds suspense, though the climactic scene contains one of the most utterly gruesome acts I've ever come across in books, movies, or other media. Hide the children, because not only is the idea itself utterly shocking (yet strangely appropriate within the book's very dark context), it is described with enough detail for readers to picture it properly. It may turn some readers off, but I'll be damned if the crucial image doesn't stick with me for years to come. Bazell must be applauded here for his originality, both in premise and in specifics, but the secondary players fall too often into stereotypical roles. In this day and age, even the sarcasm can seem a bit run of the mill, though that is hardly Bazell's fault. All told, Beat the Reaper is a thoroughly enjoyable trip into the mind of a completely jaded ex-hitman, told effectively through a unique and compelling voice.

Grade: A-

Book 9: The Second Son

The Second Son

Jonathan Rabb

Set several years after the events of Shadow and Light, The Second Son concludes the Nikolai Hoffner trilogy. Like its predecessors, the book places its hero at the center of Europe's interwar troubles, this time taking place in Nazi-era Germany and revolutionary Spain; like its immediate predecessor, it tries just a bit too hard to shoehorn a plot into a vibrant setting. Hoffner remains a vividly drawn protagonist, affected by his prior adventures and aged not only by the passage of time but also by his sons' diverging political paths: one is enmeshed in revolutionary Barcelona, while the other (thought part Jewish) is entranced by- and close to- the rising Nazi elite. It is this entanglement that provides the novel with its emotional core, and the brutality of Rabb's plot mirrors that of the historical setting as Hoffner's life spirals into chaos (alongside much of Europe). This book is more introspective than the previous Hoffner novels, and as a result Rabb's efforts to integrate his fictional story with actual historical events are a bit less clumsy, though there are quite a few convenient encounters and celebrity cameos that are alternately charming and intrusive. The chronological gap between Shadow and Light and The Second Son also detracts from the novel's raw power; though Hoffner retains a consistent personality, one feels that there's quite a bit left unsaid, which draws the reader out of the narrative and calls attention to the conceit that is always the slightest bit noticeable, despite Rabb's best efforts. All told, however, The Second Son provides a fitting conclusion to the saga of Nikolai Hoffner as the Europe he belonged in thrashes in its death throes.

Grade: B+