Book review: Ruin by Harry Manners

Ruin

(Book 1 of the Ruin Saga)

by Harry Manners

Post-apocalyptic fiction is popular at the moment – so popular, in fact, that it takes a great deal for a post-apocalyptic story to stand out from the crowd. We've become well aquainted with zombie apocalypses, nuclear apocalypses, and more recently ecological apocalypses. What Harry Manners offers with his debut novel, Ruin, is something a little different.

Ruin tells the story of Great Britain in the aftermath of a cataclysmic event known simply as the End. For reasons unknown, the vast majority of Britain's population – and that of the world – completely disappeared, leaving no trace. Every electronic device also stopped working at that moment. The few survivors who remained found the world a very different place.

It's a story of brutal realities and conflict, but some great characters underpin the narrative. Alex, a visionary leader who aims to salvage what he can of the Old World and bring education and technology to the scattered people of Britain, is deeply conflicted but is regarded as something of a messiah by his followers. Then there's Norman, trained by Alex to eventually act as his successor, but Norman is plagued by feelings of insecurity and inadequacy. Alex's mission is a major driving force behind the plot. He has worked tirelessly for decades to keep the light of civilisation burning, but when famine devastates the land even that may not be enough. I did, however, feel that the female characters in Ruin were a little less well developed.

One thing I really enjoyed about this book is the sense of mystery and destiny that the author skilfully weaves into the narrative. There are more questions than answers at the end – an effective cliffhanger leading to the second book, Brink, although the novel works as a standalone.

It's a very British work of post-apocalyptic fiction. It's set in the British Isles, the characters are British, and many of its qualities succeed by being understated and subtle rather than overt. Although there's plenty of violence, Alex's principles of education and reform seek to change the world so that armed conflict is no longer necessary. There's a lot to admire in his lifelong mission to transform the lands, hold back the dark, against dwindling odds.

Harry Manners also writes exquisitely, with excellent dialogue and description. Less commonly amongst self-published books, the publication standard is of a very high standard of professionalism: smooth editing, flawless formatting and presentation, and one of the best covers I've seen in a long time.

I enjoyed reading this author's debut novel, and I enjoyed the sequel, Brink, just as much. If you like the post-apocalyptic genre then I think you'll love this great first book.

Buy Ruin on Amazon.com here, or Amazon.co.uk here

Visit the author's website

@harry_a_manners on Twitter

Book review and interview: A Shroud of Night and Tears by Lucas Bale

A Shroud of Night and Tears

(Beyond the Wall, Book 3)

by Lucas Bale

Over the past year or so, it's been my privilege to follow the career of science fiction writer Lucas Bale. In my review of The Heretic, his first novel, I concluded by saying that "... I suspect this new author will go far." I wrote those words in July 2014. Since then he has released another novel, several short stories, curated an anthology (and contributed to others), and we've worked together on a number of projects.

The third novel in his epic Beyond the Wall series, A Shroud of Night and Tears, launches on Wednesday (Facebook launch party here). As usual, the author sent me an advance copy of the book to read and review.

In my review of Defiance I mentioned that Lucas Bale's science fiction world was really beginning to flower and unfold – that a sense of the true scale of his vision was starting to become apparent. This process reaches its apex in the third volume of Beyond the Wall. Cataclysmic plot twists will make you question everything you think you know about this universe, and both the stakes, and the sheer scale of events taking place, are so much higher than ever before. This is a world of stupefying danger for anyone who chooses to go against the status quo. And humanity's place in this universe is more precarious than ever before.

Readers who may have been disappointed that the characters in The Heretic did not return in book two will be glad to hear that Shepherd, Jordi, the Soteria, and other characters from the first novel all play significant roles here. It's really satisfying to see how their individual struggles fit into the big plot that takes place over multiple books. Some great new characters are introduced, too. Everyone has their own private war to fight, and just when you think you know what's going on, the big twist comes along and changes everything. I'm not at liberty to give the game away – you'll have to read the book to find out for yourself!

It's probably apparent by this stage that I loved this book. I like Lucas Bale's characters, I like the universe he's weaving, and the themes he chooses to pursue in his science fiction are fascinating to me. Better still, this is by no means the final chapter of Beyond the Wall; in many ways the story has only just begin.

Each book has been a little grander, a little more ambitious than the last. A Shroud of Night and Tears is the most epic yet and the author pulls off a complex storyline with considerable skill. If you have yet to discover this author, check out the links below. His short fiction is also well worth reading.

Disclaimer: I received a free review copy of this book from the author.

Buy Shroud on Amazon.com here, or Amazon.co.uk here

Visit the author's website
@balespen on Twitter
Lucas Bale's books on Amazon

Interview with Lucas Bale

Now on to what is in many ways the main event of this blog post. I got in touch with Lucas and asked him a few questions about his work. In this interview he casts a little light on the themes he explores in fiction, the nature and future of civilisation, and his future plans for the series.

Each volume of ‘Beyond the Wall’ has shown us a little more of the context and wider world in which your stories are set. In ‘Shroud’ the reader is shown a glimpse of what’s really going on. Are there more big surprises in store for us in future books – and if so, what can you tell us about them?

I think any story needs to contain surprises in order for it to be compelling. Robert McKee taught me that. That gap between the reader's expectations and the actual result is one of the most enthralling aspects of any story. We love to be surprised, for stories to take unexpected turns. So yes, there are more revelations to come. Obviously there are major events that hammer out the stakes clearly in Shroud, but that was always my intention – the first two books would set up two separate storylines that would converge in Shroud and the truth of the story would be revealed. When they have finished Shroud, readers will realise there is a much greater depth and scope to the setting than at first assumed by those comparing it to, say, Firefly.

Whilst I enjoyed the light nods I made to Firefly in the first book, and there were some to the original Battlestar Galactica series too, they were never meant to continue into Defiance and beyond. The setting is much more expansive, and very different. The themes to come are different too – humanity being the main one: who we are, what we want from our future, what it means to be human and our place in the universe. Is there such a thing as 'humanity', or is what we consider humanity in truth a set of shared values which is really a measure of sentience or sapience instead? Shroud is a much bigger book than the first, at 465 pages, and Into A Silent Darkness will be bigger still as the story truly unfolds. This gives me a much greater scope to explore these questions.

The story of Beyond the Wall can be seen as the story of civilisation – and the threats that face it, both from outside and from within. When humanity reaches for the stars, how do you think our civilisation will adapt – and do you think a future collapse is inevitable?

The twinned concepts of civilisation and government have always been critical to the themes underpinning the series as a whole. I wanted to explore the question of what system of government was perfect for a given civilisation – and whether it was even possible to answer that question. Are there too many competing interests in a civilisation to actually find a system that could be considered ‘perfect’, or will there always be a large portion of society that is negatively affected by any given system? Certainly, democracy has much to behove it, and in many ways there is no better system. Churchill once said, in a House of Commons speech on November 11th, 1947, "Democracy is the worst form of government, except for all those other forms that have been tried from time to time.” There’s a double-sided truth to that – democracy is flawed (Churchill said that having just won the war, but having lost the general election that followed it), but, in our circumstances as they exist now, there is probably no better system.

The same might not be said for the position in the Beyond the Wall universe – humanity is on its last legs, almost extinct, and trying to rebuild. An authoritarian government seeking to propagate humanity must make hard decisions. Yet they’re not altruistic either – power corrupts, as the old adage goes, and the Quorum of the Consulate Magistratus is no exception to that. In fact, perhaps they define it. And who knows what threats wait in the shadows – a government knows a great deal more of the threats it faces, and regimes or systems of law that might seem harsh are infinitely more explicable with that guarded knowledge.

Beyond the Wall certainly explores that. Perhaps there is a didactic element to it – or more likely I just want people to ask their own questions. Science fiction is not intended to answer questions, but it should seek to raise them in the first place.

As to where we will be when we reach the stars and colonise new planets – it will depend on where the nations of Earth are at the time, as well as who goes to colonise. A US government will be a very different regime to a Chinese or Russian. A lot will also depend on the nature of the planets – the harshness of the wilderness we find and how easy it is to live there. I find it hard to believe that it will be easy to maintain law and order in the same way on a fully fledged colonial community on another planet (as opposed to, say, a closed, self-contained professional community of astronauts and scientists) as it would be here on Earth – picture the lawlessness of the Wild West and even remote (or war-torn) parts of the world now. I think the frontier mentality will become ever more important in those communities and the ability to protect one’s home will actually be critical. The only alternative is a considerably more authoritarian regime than we are used to on Earth.

The response to your first two novels has been phenomenal. Has the reaction from your audience shaped the process of writing Shroud, and if so, how?

Audience reaction hasn’t so much shaped the story itself – that was set the moment I began planning the series back in 2013. It has however made writing Shroud considerably more challenging and stressful. Although I think every author hopes that their work will break out, when more and more readers do in fact connect with your work, it increases the pressure to make every word sing. It’s inevitable that you begin to question more, especially in the later stages, and, with a book like Shroud, where the revelations are potentially surprising and controversial, there are days when that pressure exerts itself more openly than others! It’s important to believe in the work, believe in your process and remain focused on the themes underpinning the story. I don’t normally respond to reviews, but I did post on my website at one point when a number of reviewers complained about the change of characters between The Heretic and Defiance. I took the opportunity to quash a few assumptions, and to reassure too.

I have a plan – a structure for the series – and there is sense to it, reasoning behind telling the story the way that I have. But the truth is, negative reviews can break a new author so they matter. They hurt. So often I turn to Kameron Hurley’s blog and I get refreshed by her brutal honesty about the creative process and about publishing in general. Now, with a year writing and publishing behind me, I think the most important thing is to focus on the success of the books, the readers emailing me telling me they can’t wait for the next instalment, or commending the work. I suspect more experienced authors no longer need that affirmation, but sometimes it’s nice to know that you’re hitting the right notes when you’re just starting out. I write more, I read more, I learn more. I ensure I infuse every page with what I hope keeps people reading – a great story. Keeping that focus pulls me out of the low points.

~ ~ ~


Many thanks to Lucas Bale for sharing his thoughts with us today. Don't forget, the book comes out on Wednesday. Keep an eye on the Facebook launch page for more details.

First look: Walking the Border by Ian Crofton

Walking the Border:

A Journey Between Scotland and England

by Ian Crofton

I have just started reading this handsome volume by Ian Crofton. The author has a number of books to his name, and has a reputation for bringing history and facts to life in an engaging way. He's also a keen climber and walker. The outdoors and writing often go together, don't they?

The premise is straightforward enough – it's a book about walking the border between England and Scotland. I was expecting an account of the walk, but from the first page it's apparent that a great deal more is going on here in addition to the coverage on the hiking itself. The first chapter explores the very concept of borders and the author weaves his research throughout the book. He visits and talks to immigrants and refugees at many of the UK's borders, and there's also some very topical material on the Scottish independence question. I suspect these issues will become absolutely central to the story Ian Crofton has to tell.

Some readers are bound to disagree with the author's political views – not usually a concern in a straightforward hiking book – but this is hardly a manifesto or an opinionated rant. From what I've read so far, it's an intelligent and informed study on the very concept of borders. This side of the book  was a pleasant surprise and I think I'm going to really enjoy this one.

As always, I'll follow this post up with a full review when I have finished reading it.

Disclaimer: the publisher sent me an advance copy of this book to review.

Book review: Between the Sunset and the Sea by Simon Ingram

Between the Sunset and the Sea

by Simon Ingram

It seems that every British hill is on a list of some kind. The Munros, the Corbetts, the Wainwrights – it can be all too easy to get sidetracked by the list itself, perhaps forgetting about the magic of the hills in the process. Do you suffer from ticklist fatigue? Then maybe this book is for you.

Between the Sunset and the Sea is all about the magic of the British uplands. It’s a little ironic that Simon Ingram chooses to do this by creating a new list, but I think that can be forgiven – it’s a very select list, and each of the sixteen mountains (or mountain areas) is given an entire chapter to describe its own unique charms. The hills in question are:

Beinn Dearg; The Black Mountain; Cadair Idris; Crib Goch; Cnicht; Cross Fell; Schiehallion; Ben Loyal; An Teallach; The Assynt Hills; Askival; Ladhar Bheinn; Loughrigg Fell; Great Gable; Ben Macdui; and Ben Nevis

A motley collection, then! There’s real variety in the mountains Ingram has chosen to explore, and I use that word deliberately – this is no mere collection of routes.

For the full review, please click through here to my article on UKHillwalking.

Book review: Moonwalker by Alan Rowan

Moonwalker: Adventures of a midnight mountaineer

by Alan Rowan

Walking the Munros. This is a time-honoured subject for hillwalking books, and it might be thought that nothing new can be contributed to the topic. Search for books on the Munros and you'll find everything from detailed guides to memoirs. However, Alan Rowan's book Moonwalker: Adventures of a midnight mountaineer is something altogether different, and not only for the most obvious reason.

The premise of this book is clear from the outset: it's about climbing the Scottish hills by night. I was prepared for an unusual take on what it's like to climb mountains after dark, maybe with some poetic descriptions of the many sunrises the author must have seen.

What I wasn't prepared for was such a continuously enjoyable narrative, told with a compelling blend of candour and razor-sharp wit. This is actually the account of an epic undertaking and I take my hat off to the persistence, toughness, and hill skills of Alan Rowan. There's a wealth of mountain experience contained in these pages.

The author's journey to climb the Munros largely took place in the 1990s, at a time when his hectic day job prevented regular weekends on the hills. He was not an experienced mountaineer when he began his journey, and the early chapters are filled with entertaining anecdotes about poor gear and misjudging the conditions. When he caught the bug, as so many of us do, he made it fit around his work commitments by heading out after a shift and climbing at night — often heading straight back into work immediately afterwards. At first this was just a stop-gap attempt to fit his hillwalking ambitions in with his work schedule, but he soon began to enjoy the finer points of being on the hill after dark.

In my opinion, two particular qualities make this book special. First there's the journey: an incredible voyage of self-discovery and perseverance, featuring low points as well as highlights. Then there's the quality of the writing itself. The author's voice is very distinctive, with a sharp wit and a handsome turn of phrase. Many of the situations Alan Rowan got himself into on his journey are genuinely hilarious, too. Parts of the book had me laughing out loud.

In summary, Moonwalker deserves every word of the praise I've been hearing about it, and I wholeheartedly recommend it to all lovers of the Scottish hills.

Further reading

Buy the book on Amazon UK

Read Alan Rowan's blog

First look: Between the Sunset and the Sea by Simon Ingram

A beautiful hardback book landed on my desk this afternoon. Between the Sunset and the Sea by Simon Ingram (from £13.59) was published today and offers a detailed look at sixteen of the UK's mountains and hills through prose, history, story, and photography.

The mountains are:

- Beinn Dearg
- The Black Mountain
- Cadair Idris
- Crib Goch
- Cnicht
- Cross Fell
- Schiehallion
- Ben Loyal
- An Teallach
- The Assynt Hills
- Askival
- Ladhar Bheinn
- Loughrigg Fell
- Great Gable
- Ben Macdui
- Ben Nevis

As I flip through, I can see that the book is characterised by gorgeous typography and some excellent black and white photographs. I'll be reading Between the Sunset and the Sea and reviewing it shortly. In the meantime you can order your copy from Amazon or Waterstones. It is available as an ebook from both stores.

Book review: Rattlesnakes and Bald Eagles by Chris Townsend

Rattlesnakes and Bald Eagles:

Hiking the Pacific Crest Trail

by Chris Townsend

Chris Townsend is one of the world's leading authorities on backpacking. He's been doing it for a long time and has written many books on the subject. In fact, his Backpacker's Handbook was a major source of inspiration for me as a teenager, when I was first developing a love of the outdoors and wanted to try backpacking for myself. It went in my rucksack in 2003 when I embarked on my first multi-day trip. I always look forward to new books from this author.

Rattlesnakes and Bald Eagles is an account of Chris's 1982 thru-hike of the epic Pacific Crest Trail. The book stands out for several reasons, and readers will be blown away by the sheer scale — not only of the landscape through which the author voyages, but the scale of the challenge itself. This is a really big walk. Thru-hikers routinely take up to six months to complete the 2,663-mile route, and it crosses a variety of wild terrain including remote deserts and the High Sierra. Even in the 21st century, the PCT requires real commitment, fitness and experience to complete ... so what was it like thirty-odd years ago?

Part of the value of this book comes from Chris, now a backpacker with a lifetime of experience, looking back on the hike and offering a retrospective view. He frequently refers to the journal he kept on the trail and includes many photographs originally taken on slide film (no digital cameras in those days, so shots had to be rationed). The real eye-opener is the gear. Nowadays, lightweight gear is the norm, but many of the innovations we take for granted nowadays simply didn't exist back then. In particular I'm astonished by the weight of his pack as he crossed the Sierra, with many days' food supply plus ice axe, crampons, snowshoes, and other items essential for the high mountains.

Yosemite. Photograph from Wikipedia

He learned many important lessons along the way, perhaps the most important being that thick, heavy boots (more or less the only hiking footwear available at the time) were not ideal for the task, particularly in the desert sections. He quickly switched to the running shoes he carried as backup footwear and ended up wearing them for most of the rest of the walk. This tactic was ahead of its time, but has now become widely accepted.

For me, what makes this book really shine is the adventure itself. It's impossible not to be captivated and enthralled by the majesty of the landscape, and the monumental challenge of taking on a route of this calibre. Before reading Rattlesnakes I knew that the PCT was a long route, but I didn't appreciate how hard or committing it was, or that it joined together some of the wildest and most beautiful landscapes in the USA. Only a handful of other hikers completed the PCT in 1982. It is, quite simply, one of the great foot journeys of the world — and this is a fine account of it.

This is a great book, skilfully written with charm and authority, and it will be enjoyed by anyone with an interest in backpacking or wild places.

Buy the book on Amazon UK

Further reading

Chris's blog, which features many interesting articles on the PCT and backpacking in general

Book review: The Walk Up Nameless Ridge by Hugh Howey

The Walk Up Nameless Ridge

by Hugh Howey

The Walk Up Nameless Ridge is a short story by science fiction writer Hugh Howey, best known for the post-apocalyptic series Wool. Mountaineering fiction is an obscure genre at the best of times so it was with some surprise that I learned about this title. How, I wondered, would a science fiction writer tackle the subject of mountaineering?

The result is an utterly unique and — in its own way — compelling imagining of what mountain climbing might become in the distant, space-faring future. However, as I shall explain, I don’t think the central premise would stand up to scrutiny in a longer piece.

This story explores themes that already exist in the mountaineering culture of today: improving standards, the erosion of climbing ethics, summit fever, the difficult decisions faced by climbers on the cusp of success or failure. It can be summed up best by Alfred Mummery’s famous quote:

It has frequently been noticed that all mountains appear doomed to pass through the three stages: An inaccessible peak — The most difficult ascent in the Alps — An easy day for a lady.

Victorian sexism aside, in this case Everest has become the “easy day for a lady” in the far future, with a tram extending to the summit. Humanity has long since expanded beyond Earth, and mountaineers have exhausted the climbing possibilities of their home planet thanks to a combination of higher standards, performance-enhancing drugs, and technology that would be considered cheating by the climbers of the early 21st century. The same can, of course, be said for today’s climbing culture when viewed from the perspective of the 19th century pioneers, which I suspect is the point.

The ultimate climbing challenge in this story is an impossibly high peak called Mt. Mallory, located on a planet called Eno. Mt. Mallory is an exaggerated nightmare of a mountain, sixty thousand feet high and pummelled by relentless hurricane-force winds. Climbers have attempted to scale it for decades but most have perished. Everything about high altitude climbing on this planet is exaggerated, from the conditions to the danger, from the insanely technical climbing gear (mechanical hiking pants!) to the vicious rivalry between different teams. There’s even an android trying to climb the mountain and be first to the top.

The idea is fascinating. It works on several levels because it serves as a critique of modern climbing culture while examining how the sport has developed since its early days, and making a logical extension into the future to look at where this exponential curve might take us. The writing is also beautiful and efficient.

But I think the idea itself only works as a thought experiment packaged as a short story, and collapses under close scrutiny. Will humanity still be obsessed with mountains and climbing centuries in the future, when we have the capability to travel to other worlds and do things currently only dreamed of? Possibly, but I’m not so sure. For the vast majority of human history, people did not generally climb mountains for fun; they did so only if they had to climb them for some practical reason. Even the leisured classes had no interest in climbing mountains before the late 18th century. The current popularity of mountaineering is largely due to an explosion of interest in the 19th century, and continuous development in standards and participation ever since. There’s a very persuasive argument that ties mountain climbing with modernity and industrialisation.

Our sport is changing in ways more complex and subtle than the changes portrayed in this story. Exploration is so rapid that only exceedingly difficult or exceedingly remote routes remain unclimbed. As the possibilities for first ascents dry up, the focus for the majority of climbers is slowly moving towards sport climbing, indoor climbing, and (above all else) convenience. People are still going into the mountains in the early 21st century, but what will another century of progress do the sport — another century away from the enthusiasm of the pioneering years?

I believe that, even if mountaineering still exists several hundred years from now, it will see drastic change far beyond the relatively simple extension of current trends presented here. For this reason, The Walk Up Nameless Ridge works very well as a thought experiment and a short story, but the flaws in the idea would be amplified in a longer piece and it would fall apart. The being said, I enjoyed the story and it certainly got me thinking, which should be the goal of all good fiction. The Walk Up Nameless Ridge is a fascinating short story and a worthwhile read for science fiction fans or outdoor enthusiasts.

The Terror by Dan Simmons — Book Review

The Terror by Dan Simmons

Book review by Alex Roddie

I discovered this book purely by chance. Someone on Twitter recommended I read The Abominable by Dan Simmons, but after reading the sample I found myself downloading The Terror instead. (The Abominable remains on my reading list.)

This is a very good book, but not quite as good as I hoped it would be.

The Terror tells the story of the John Franklin Arctic expedition, which took place in the mid–1840s with the objective of finding the Northwest Passage. Both ships, the HMS Erebus and HMS Terror, were lost with all hands (a total of 129 casualties). Little is known about the last days of the sailors and officers of these vessels, although evidence points towards a lingering end from starvation, scurvy and cannibalism.

This is very much a book of two halves. As an historical novel, The Terror is masterful. Simmons chooses a variety of characters to tell a story of an incompetent Royal Navy, numerous bad decisions, failure for the Victorian explorers to work with the native Inuit people or understand the Arctic environment, finally leading to the abandonment of both ships and an attempt to haul boats over the frozen sea. The result is the grim death of almost every single character.

This section contains spoilers!

Two of the main characters are Francis Crozier, captain of HMS Terror, and Harry Goodsir, surgeon aboard HMS Erebus. These two are deeply flawed — particularly the alcoholic Crozier — yet are, in my opinion, the most likeable and interesting characters in the story. They also perhaps have more common sense than the rest of the officers put together. Sir John Franklin himself is portrayed as a bigoted buffoon with a tendency to make poor choices as leader of the expedition, including the choice that led to both ships becoming stuck fast in the pack ice.

The story is initially slow-moving, with many scenes heavy on exposition and detail. There is also a great deal of jumping back and forth in time. If you can put up with these foibles, however, the gradually unfolding story of disaster is extremely rewarding.

The issue I have with this book concerns the supernatural / mythological aspect. Shipmates aboard the beset vessels are gradually picked off by a sort of demonic creature of the Arctic. At first it seems it may be no more than an uncommonly large polar bear, but as the narrative develops it becomes clear that the creature is a supernatural being. It’s cunning, patient, and has a macabre sense of humour.

Throughout the course of the novel, the “Terror on the Ice” devours a sizeable proportion of the crew. The creature is associated with a mysterious Inuit woman who has a habit of hanging around the ships and is nicknamed Lady Silence by the crew due to the fact that she has no tongue. Silence is feared but reluctantly tolerated by the explorers.

My problem with this subplot stems from the fact that it’s completely unnecessary. During most of the book, the Terror on the Ice acts as an uncomplicated bogeyman — a way of increasing external conflict in a narrative already charged with it. There is no need to make the harsh Arctic winter more terrifying by adding a monster as well. The characters dismembered by the monster would have died from starvation, scurvy, disease or mutiny anyway — which is exactly what actually happens to most of them. There is no need to add another way of killing off the characters. The hostile environment and the lack of knowledge of the explorers are quite capable of doing that alone.

Some of the main characters, pictured here a few
decades after the events of the story.

In the climax of the story, Captain Crozier survives a mutinous assault in a manner that would make Rasputin shake his head in disbelief. There is then a frankly bizarre section in which Crozier becomes an Inuit shaman acting to help preserve the balance of the Arctic, of which the Terror on the Ice (or Tuunbaq) is a vital part. The Tuunbaq is, essentially, an Inuit god. Crozier is the only survivor of the John Franklin expedition.

I understand what the author tried to achieve here, and to an extent it does work. This subplot provides a satisfying conclusion to Crozier’s character arc and demonstrates how little the explorers were willing to learn from the environment around them. It also added an intriguing environmental angle. But, for me, the novel would have worked just as well without the supernatural elements, and may well have ended up more focused. There is a great deal of Western / American guilt behind this subplot, I think. The Inuit are portrayed as alien, but far more inherently virtuous and environmentally-friendly than the blundering explorers, all of whom die — except Crozier — as punishment for their ignorance. Reality is rarely so black-and-white, and I don’t think good fiction should be either.

Ultimately I enjoyed this novel for its rich depiction of a doomed Arctic expedition, but I felt that the mythological and supernatural elements served only to dilute the power of Dan Simmons’ otherwise masterful story.

Buy the book on Amazon UK

Further reading

Uncovering the secrets of John Franklin's doomed voyage
HMS Erebus found

How Not to Self-Publish by Rosen Trevithick — book review

How Not to Self-Publish

The Totally Splendid Hotshot Author's Survival Guide

by Rosen Trevithick

I have published my review of Rosen Trevithick's very funny new book over on the Pinnacle Editorial blog. You can read it here.

Author's note: From now on, all blog posts on the subject of writing or publishing will be posted on Pinnacle Editorial. This blog will continue to offer articles on mountaineering, the outdoors, history, and reviews of books on similar subjects.

The Heretic by Lucas Bale - book review

The Heretic

(Book One of the Beyond the Wall series)

by Lucas Bale

This blog tends to have a fairly narrow focus — mountains, 19th century history, books about those subjects, and my own writing — but on special occasions I break the trend and write about something different. This is one of those occasions, and today I'd like to take the opportunity to review the debut novel of an up-and-coming science fiction author, Lucas Bale.

As a child, I was obsessed by science fiction. I devoured the works of Isaac Asimov, Aldous Huxley, Douglas Adams, and many other writers. I think what really attracted me to the genre was the sheer variety and originality of the stories: a kaleidoscope of worlds and characters. In recent years, however, mainstream science fiction seems to have become bogged down in a homogenised Hollywood of trite, predictable plots, packaged in bitesize chunks for the mass market.

I'm happy to report that this book is nothing of the kind.

The Heretic is the first novel in Bale's Beyond the Wall series. The author paints an uncomfortable and frequently bleak vision of a future in which humanity has spread beyond the ruins of an Earth destroyed by climate change and conflict. This is not an original idea, of course, but few ideas are original these days and what counts is how you deal with the idea.

Like all good science fiction, The Heretic focuses on the characters. Bale has chosen to depict only a few characters in his book, but they are masterfully drawn and succeed in paying homage to classic science fiction like Firefly and Star Wars while retaining a distinctive individuality of their own. The freighter captain Shepherd is especially memorable, and his vessel Soteria is very much a character in her own right with numerous surprises up her sleeve.

The Heretic is fast-paced, mysterious, frequently brutal, and like most of the best science fiction poses more questions than it answers. It's all too easy to slap the label "post-apocalyptic" on things these days but I think this book is bigger than that. I have a hunch that we have only been shown a glimpse through the door in this first volume of the series, but the world beyond it is big, frightening, and surprising. At its core is the grand mystery of exactly what happened to Earth and why humanity is now spread so thin.

Lucas Bale’s debut novel is gripping, suspenseful science fiction. It seizes you right from the first word, and the chase scene at the climax of the story is some of the finest writing I’ve seen in the genre — genuinely edge-of-seat stuff.

I look forward to future books in the series, and I suspect this new author will go far!

You can download The Heretic on Kindle from Amazon UK for 99p, or visit the author's website for other links.

Last Hours on Everest by Graham Hoyland: book review

Last Hours on Everest:

The Gripping Story of Mallory & Irvine's Fatal Ascent

by Graham Hoyland

It's customary to begin reviews of Everest books with the phrase "Much has been written on this subject." Well, much has indeed been written regarding George Mallory and Mount Everest, but as I hope to demonstrate in this review, I believe Graham Hoyland has a great deal of value to say on the subject — and might even have done more to solve the mystery of George Mallory and Sandy Irvine than any other individual to date.

In 1924, George Mallory and his companion Sandy Irvine perished near the summit of Everest, but nobody has ever been able to establish whether or not the pair actually made it to the top. Graham Hoyland has made it his life's work to find out the truth. He first heard about the mystery from his relative, Howard Somervell, who had been a member of the fateful 1924 expedition. Obsessed by the question since boyhood, he became a mountaineer so that he could climb Everest himself and search for the camera of George Mallory, long believed to be the most reliable piece of evidence that might help to prove or disprove Hoyland's theory that Mallory got to the summit.

The Mallory legend is a romantic one, which helps to explain why it has endured for so long. Mallory was talented, attractive, and had an obsessive relationship with the mountain he both hated and felt compelled to return to again and again. The notion that he may have reached the summit almost thirty years before the first recorded ascent, in 1953 — and with drastically more primitive equipment — is a romantic legend, and it's one that I have wanted to believe for a long time. Everyone seems to have a theory but the truth remains obscure.

Where Last Hours on Everest differs from all the other books on the subject is the fact that the author is a genuine expert on the subject. He has gone far, far beyond most other Mallory researchers, and his expertise — not to mention his obvious passion — helps to bring this story to life more convincingly than ever before.

Graham Hoyland has been to Everest many times, achieved the summit, searched the icy slopes for relics of 1924. The idea of recovering Mallory's body and finding evidence was originally his, and I was interested to read how control of the 1999 expedition was taken from him. Eventually Mallory's body was found by Conrad Anker and, although much valuable evidence was discovered, the way pictures of the corpse were distributed by the media caused considerable pain to Mallory's living relatives. Hoyland, who had planned to handle the matter far more sensitively, was also very upset and the entire episode damaged his reputation.

The author has actually climbed on Everest using exact replicas of the clothing and gear Mallory wore in the 1920s. This is a key piece of evidence, and the book explains how scientific testing (in addition to Hoyland's first hand experience of using the gear) strongly indicated that the gear would have been more than capable of keeping Mallory safe — provided he kept moving. In some respects it's superior to a modern down suit, and the idea that the pioneers wore "lounge suits" or rough tweeds is blown out of the water.

The question of how climbing on Everest has changed over the years is an important theme in this book. The early years of Himalayan exploration are portrayed as intrinsically heroic, but the author chronicles a process of slow change ending in the present era: an age of massive commercial expeditions and the reduction of risk and uncertainty.

The character study of Mallory is relatively brief, but insightful — and does not resort to hero-worship, like some other works. In fact I think Hoyland's ability to be objective and analytical is one of the best things about this book. He portrays Mallory as a talented climber, an intelligent man with a poetic mind, but also shows how he tended to drift through life without much drive or purpose, how he was absent-minded and forgetful, how he took unnecessary risks and put the lives of others in danger. His motivations are probed in detail; like other writers, Hoyland concludes that Mallory's experiences in World War I, coupled with an increasing need to distinguish himself and find something worthwhile to do with his life, contributed to his obsession with Everest.

This book is not just about long-dead climbers and whether or not they were the first to climb the world's highest peak. It's also the story of the author himself and how his life has been shaped by the mystery (and by the mountain). I admired his honesty in discussing how mistakes were made in the search for Mallory's camera, and the recovery of his corpse. It's clear that he was not to blame for the media calamity that followed, but the author is humble enough to acknowledge where he was naive or made mistakes.

The meaning of Everest itself, and climbing in general, is discussed in some depth. No two readers will come to the same conclusion on this but I think the author is more qualified than most to speak about what Everest really means to human beings. He has this to say on the issue of Himalayan tragedies:

"So my answer is, no, Mount Everest is not worth dying for, but I had to risk my life to understand the question."

After years of believing that Mallory reached the summit, he describes the legend as "a dangerous and seductive fable" that has indirectly resulted in more deaths on the mountain.

So, did Mallory and Irvine get to the summit of Everest? The answer is that we still don't have enough information. The author evaluates each piece of evidence carefully, placing great importance on some but dismissing others. Ultimately the most important relic — Mallory's camera, which may contain undeveloped film of a summit photo — remains hidden, and until it's found I don't think we will have an answer. As Hoyland says, however, it's very difficult to prove that they didn't reach the summit.

I admire the way the author's views changed from unwavering belief in the Mallory legend to a more more objective point of view. His analysis is sound. He favours simple theories over complex ones, looks critically at the evidence, and is not afraid to change his ideas to fit the science or the facts.

Some reviewers have complained that the book contains "too much Hoyland" and not enough Mallory. I'm afraid I simply don't agree. Mallory's side of the story has been told numerous times by numerous writers, but what makes this book compelling is that it's more than just Mallory-and-Irvine-did-they-or-didn't-they? For me what makes this book stand out is Hoyland's own story, which is full of both triumph and disappointment in equal measure. It's honest and unflinching in describing both.

This is not a book that aims to put Mallory on a pedestal, and it certainly doesn't pretend to have all the answers, but what it does offer is truth, sound reasoning, and a damned good tale told by a confident writer. It's a worthy addition to the canon of books on the subject of Everest and Mallory and I finished the book with a deep sense of respect for Graham Hoyland and his dedication to solving the Everest 1924 mystery.

Last Hours on Everest is available to purchase in hardback, Kindle, or paperback. The paperback edition was launched on the 8th of May. You can purchase a copy from Amazon here.

Full disclosure: I received a review copy of this book from the publisher. However, like all my reviews, it is written independently and without bias.

Book Spotlight - Last Hours on Everest by Graham Hoyland

Last Hours on Everest:

The Gripping Story of Mallory & Irvine's Fatal Ascent

by Graham Hoyland

I came home from work to an eagerly anticipated package today. It contained an advance copy of Graham Hoyland's new book, Last Hours on Everest, which has been available in hardback for a while but will be released as a paperback next month.

Like many recent books, this title concerns the history of Everest — specifically, the final climb of George Mallory. Graham Hoyland aims to reconstruct that final climb and provide the most complete picture yet of what really happened.

At first glance it might be easy to dismiss yet another speculative book about George Mallory and Everest, but what I think will set this one apart is the author's unique insight. Hoyland has climbed on Everest using clothing and equipment almost identical to the gear used by Mallory in the '20s, and he has studied the mystery for many years.

I'm really looking forward to reading this book, which I shall of course review in full on this website when I'm finished!

This title will be released in paperback on the 8th of May 2014. It is currently available to purchase in hardback and Kindle format.

The Summits of Modern Man by Peter Hansen: Book Review

The Summits of Modern Man: Mountaineering After the Enlightenment

by Peter H. Hansen

I actually started reading this remarkable book some months ago. It's a bit of a monster, so to make it more manageable I broke it down into chunks. This book is a marathon, not a sprint - and I mean that in the best possible way.

"Summits" is concerned with the history of mountaineering. Until recently I thought this was a subject I knew well, but this book has quite simply transformed my understanding of the topic.

Mountaineering and Modernity

When compared with more accessible popular books on the history of mountaineering, "Summits" approaches things from an unusual angle. Rather than merely telling us what happened, it asks the vital question of "why?" This question is perhaps the one most neglected by scholars of mountain history, and although numerous excellent volumes have been produced over the last two centuries the question of "why?" is often given only the most cursory attention.

The key assertion of "Summits" is that mountaineering is a direct product of modernity and the Enlightenment. Other key themes are explored at length, including the quest for sovereignty (both collective and individual) which has often led men and women to the summits of mountains, but Hansen attributes the growth of mountaineering to modernity itself - and to the fundamental change in thinking that had to take place before mountaineering could take off.

It's widely understood that mountaineering has passed through several distinct phases, from the early Enlightenment through to the Romantic era and the so-called Alpine Golden Age in which personal conquest, sporting achievement, and muscular Christianity eclipsed the earlier quest for truth. However, Hansen's detailed analysis penetrates these ideas and goes far deeper. Like all history, the truth is more complex than the convenient labels we like to assign, and Hansen illustrates how wider context and sociopolitical factors influenced the development of mountaineering far more than I had previously believed. At the core of it all is the notion that the changing nature of human thought led to the rise of mountaineering and its development over the centuries.

Not a light read

"Summits" is a gold mine and it took me a long time to digest its treasures. The language is academic and frequently dry. This is not a book that I could stomach reading in a single sitting; I'd describe it as a committing read, something to be used to obtain valuable knowledge rather than for entertainment.

In my book spotlight when I first started reading this title I mentioned that it wasn't ideal for the beginner or for the casual reader. I think there's a good chance they would be overwhelmed by it. Other books give a far better general overview on the history of mountaineering, and are frequently written in a friendlier and more accessible way. I'd say that to make the most of this book, the reader should have a good basic knowledge of not only the history of mountaineering, but modern history in general (and, specifically, the concepts of Enlightenment, modernity, industrialisation, and Romanticism).

This is by no means a criticism of "Summits": it's an academic work, and it has nothing to be ashamed of. However, it requires concentration and background knowledge to appreciate fully. Instead of light reading in the evening I found myself most able to tackle this book when fully awake, at my desk, and with a computer to hand for taking notes.

Despite its slightly intimidating nature, this book is one of the most worthwhile I have ever read on the subject and I'm very glad I persevered with it. For me, the true gift of this book is in forcing me to look beyond the obvious when studying mountaineering history, and to consider the wider political, economic, and cultural context - and to really look inside the head of the mountaineer. Mountaineering didn't evolve independently from these things and has always been very much a product of this time. "The Summits of Modern Man" has illustrated that fact for me in far greater depth than any other book on the subject I've read before.

"The Summits of Modern Man: Mountaineering after the Enlightenment" is published by Harvard University Press. You can buy a copy from Amazon here.

Full disclosure: I received a review copy of this book from the publisher. However, like all my reviews, it is written independently and without bias.

The Mounth Passes by Neil Ramsay and Nate Pedersen: book review

The Mounth Passes:

A Heritage Guide to the Old Ways through the Grampian Mountains

by Neil Ramsay and Nate Pedersen

(Kindle)

This slim ebook came to my attention through the Scotways Twitter account. Scotways is one of the oldest outdoor access organisations in the country, established in 1845 to help fight for rights of way through the Scottish countryside. The authors, Neil Ramsay and Nate Pedersen, are both involved with the Heritage Paths Project.

My first impressions of this book were very good. The cover is attractive and the book includes a large number of colour photographs (plus a map) to illustrate the various routes. The introduction gives the reader a grounding in the etymology of the word "Mounth," a term originating from the Gaelic monadh. These mountain passes connected distinct glens, usually over high ground but following weaknesses in the landscape, and were often used for cattle droving in past centuries. Several of the roads were perilous in winter before the widespread use of modern clothing, maps, or equipment, and have claimed many lives over the years. Today some of the passes are still in use while others have faded into obscurity.

Twelve Mounth passes are described, mainly in Aberdeenshire, and each road gets its own chapter with an overview of the history and folklore plus a survey of the route. I found the historical details particularly fascinating and I think the authors do a great job of analysing the changing nature of the Scottish landscape and how forces both human and natural can shape these passes.

The "survey" sections tend to contain the most photos and actually act like mini walking guides, aiding the curious reader in following these old paths.

This is an authoritative compact guide and the authors clearly have a great deal of expertise in the subject. Recommended for those with an interest in the history of Scotland.

~ FIND OUT MORE ~

Visit the Scotways website

The Heritage Paths Project

Download the book on Kindle

Mountain Classics - The Mountain Men by Alan Hankinson

The Mountain Men: A History of Early Rock Climbing in North Wales

by Alan Hankinson

This series of articles showcases gems of mountain literature, both established classics and more esoteric titles.

Alan Hankinson was one of the UK's foremost scholars of British mountaineering history. He published a number of titles in his lifetime, from comprehensive biographies to more accessible history books like this one.

The Mountain Men is a slim volume, written engagingly and with authority. Hankinson outlines the history of mountaineering in North Wales, but instead of providing a scholarly, blow by blow account of events and dates, the focus is instead on bringing the characters themselves to life. O.G. Jones, the Abraham brothers, Oscar Eckenstein, George Mallory, Geoffrey Young ... they're all here. The book is also dotted with period photographs, often taken by George and Ashley Abraham.

I first read The Mountain Men in 2006. As a young mountaineer just starting to discover the hills, it was a huge inspiration to me and one of my first glimpses into the illustrious history of the sport. This was my first encounter with many of the characters who would later have starring roles in my first novel, including Owen Glynne Jones himself.

Ultimately this is only an introduction to the history of Snowdonian climbing, and scholars interested in learning more will treat it merely as a first step. However, as a springboard to deeper understanding of the period, it does an admirable job.

Mountain Classics - Scrambles Amongst the Alps by Edward Whymper

Scrambles Amongst the Alps in the years 1860-69

by Edward Whymper

This series of articles showcases gems of mountain literature, both established classics and more esoteric titles.

If you read only one book on the golden age of Alpine mountaineering, make it this one. Edward Whymper's epic tale of his campaign in the Alps, culminating in his world famous first ascent of the Matterhorn and the disaster on the way down, is one of the best books ever written about mountaineering. 

A young wood-engraver from London, Whymper was only twenty years old when he was commissioned to travel through the Alps and produce a series of drawings of Alpine scenery. He soon discovered that he was a natural climber. Intelligent but antisocial and often downright rude, he was not an easy companion to spend time with on the mountain.

This book details many of his early expeditions in addition to his Matterhorn campaign. The Matterhorn story quite rightly steals the limelight: it's a potent combination of ambition and rivalry, numerous failures before eventual triumph and disastrous tragedy. Four of his companions perished on the descent, an event which affected Whymper for the rest of his life and caused upheaval in the fledgling mountaineering community of the era.

There is much to enjoy besides the Matterhorn in this volume. Whymper writes engagingly on early expeditions into the Dauphine Alps, the first crossings of several glacier passes, and other subjects of interest. His monologues on innovations in mountaineering equipment are particularly fascinating. The book is illustrated throughout by Whymper's charming drawings of Alpine mountain life.

All of the Alpine golden age is here, brought to life with humour and pathos. This is arguably the best book on mountaineering to have been written in the 19th century, and an excellent starting point for someone wishing to study the subject.

Reminder

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Book Spotlight - The Summits of Modern Man by Peter Hansen

The Summits of Modern Man: Mountaineering After the Enlightenment

by Peter H. Hansen

I have a confession to make. The author of this book was kind enough to send me a review copy some time ago, but it has been a busy summer and I've only recently got round to reading it.

I was attracted to this book by the subject: a scholarly analysis of mountaineering in the context of Enlightenment, Romanticism, and modernity. These four concepts are tightly interwoven, and Hansen's objective is to analyse their relationships fully.

I'm about halfway through, and while I initially found the writing dry - it is a scholarly work, after all, not for mass appeal - I was drawn in by details of mountaineering history I have never seen elsewhere. The insights are very revealing and have forced me to look at facts I thought I understood in a new light.

This is not a book for those new to the subject. To the general reader I commend Mountains of the Mind by Robert Macfarlane. The Summits of Modern Man, by contrast, is for the dedicated student of mountaineering history who has read all the standard works and wants a deeper understanding.

I will be writing a full review when I have finished reading this very interesting book.

Lowdown on the Upland of Mar by Joe Dorward: book review

Lowdown on the Upland of Mar

by Joe Dorward

(Kindle and print)

I first came across Joe's excellent website on the history, etymology, and geography of the Cairngorms a couple of years ago. A lifelong stravaiger of the mountains, Joe's area of special interest focuses on the historic Mar Forest which includes many of the highest mountains in the district. His website is a treasure trove of knowledge containing priceless insights into a landscape with a rich and fascinating history.

This book is a distillation of his online resources - a field guide intended for reference while in the hills. The paperback edition is a slim volume, ideally proportioned for stuffing into your rucksack, and is laid out in a very clear and concise fashion with efficient use of typography and emphasis. The good design makes it very readable for at-a-glance reference, which is really what the book is intended for although I read it in two continuous sittings.

Joe places great importance on Gaelic place names, and in the book he takes some trouble to demonstrate how the Ordnance Survey maps frequently get it wrong. I'm as guilty of this as anyone: "Lairig Ghru" has become the accepted version of Làirig Dhrù, for example, and Lowdown on the Upland of Mar has opened my eyes to the far more complex world of Gaelic hill and place names.

Something which I think really boosts this book's appeal, particularly for the historian or the wanderer with an interest in history, is the focus on chronology. Many sections of the book are displayed in chronological order, and dates are often printed in bold type. This will not necessarily be of use to the casual walker but it really helps to instill a sense of the age of this landscape and how dramatically it has changed over time, from the ice age right through to the Highland clearances and the land management strategies of the present day. The book also includes an excellent index and list of references.

Nothing in life is perfect, of course, and it must be said that I thought the map diagrams weren't printed to the same standard of quality as the rest of the book. They looked quite grainy from JPEG compression and I suspect the original files weren't at 300dpi .This certainly isn't a major criticism but was a minor irritation in an otherwise excellent book. I also don't like the Comic Sans font used in the diagrams, but that's down to personal preference and not everyone will agree!

In the introduction it states that the book is a work in progress, and that the author intends to expand and correct the guide periodically. I would like to see sequel volumes, perhaps going into greater detail on individual glens, or maybe companion guides to other mountainous areas.

Lowdown on the Upland Mar really is an excellent reference book for lovers of the Cairngorms and should be in the rucksack of every wanderer of the glens and mountain tops.

~ FIND OUT MORE ~

Joe's website - The Upland of Mar
Order a paperback copy of the book here
Or download on Kindle

Everest - The First Ascent by Harriet Tuckey: book review

Everest - The First Ascent:

The untold story of Griffith Pugh, the man who made it possible

by Harriet Tuckey

In my opinion this is the most important book on the history of mountaineering to have been published for many years. Hopefully this review will demonstrate why I think this is absolutely essential reading for anyone with an interest in high altitude climbing.

Everyone thinks they know the Everest story. On May the 29th, 1953, Sir Edmund Hillary and Sherpa Tenzing Norgay reached the summit after a valiant battle against nature. The success of Everest was presented to the world as a triumph of human resilience and bravery against natural forces, but the role of science and technology was played down in favour of good old fashion heroism. At the time--this was 1953 and coronation week, after all--this is what the public wanted to hear and it became a classic tale and a subject of considerable British pride. Numerous books have been written on the expedition and what we think to be the truth has become part of accepted history.

However, this book paints an altogether different story--one of suppressed achievements and devious politics.

Background

Griffith Pugh was a physiologist and a member of the 1953 Everest expedition. This book, researched and written by his daughter Harriet, documents the remarkable contribution he made to the success of the expedition. At first I thought "the man who made it possible" was merely a punchy tagline, but as I read I came to see that it is no way an exaggeration. Pugh's work quite literally made the expedition succeed, and I have no doubt that without his contributions it would have failed catastrophically just like every other failed Everest expedition which depended on pluck and human daring instead of methodical scientific research.

The author is very critical of earlier Everest expeditions, many of which resulted in unnecessary loss of life or ended in farce, usually due to unscientific methods or a romantic, old-fashioned approach. The early part of the book takes a candid look at Everest politics and demonstrates how the British deliberately prevented other nations from reaching the summit before they could do it first themselves. I found Harriet Tuckey's objective, clinical style of analysis quite refreshing when compared to other mountaineering books which often fail to look at the bigger picture and focus on the climbing above all else.

Pugh's contributions

So just what did Pugh contribute? His pioneering experiments into human physiology revolutionised understanding of how the body copes with oxygen deprivation at altitude. He drew up the acclimatisation regime used by the climbers and also invented numerous items of specialist equipment, including the boots, tents, down clothing, stoves, and many other items. He was also responsible for the iron rule that all climbers at altitude must drink constantly to battle dehydration--thought to have been one of the main reasons that previous attempts to reach the summit failed.

The fact is that, despite what we have been led to believe, the ascent of Everest was a triumph of science and technology first and foremost. By 1953 the romantic era of mountaineering had come to an end. This was a new age, but many of the leading figures of the time fought it bitterly and for many years succeeded in keeping Pugh's contributions hidden.

Why was his work overlooked? The reasons are complex (you'll have to read the book to gain a full understanding!) but Griffith Pugh's abrasive and cantankerous personality seems to have been the main factor. This book is a detailed and compelling character study, building up an impression of a man who has a family yet frequently resents the demands they place on his life, who is insensitive and rude to others out of habit, who is careless with money, and who frequently sabotages his own career. Some people absolutely hated him and his relationship with Edmund Hillary was certainly rocky. Hillary is shown to take his place on the long list of people who failed to give full credit to Pugh, both for the 1953 expedition and other achievements later on.

Griffith Pugh is certainly not portrayed as a likeable man or a sympathetic character, but as I read the book I developed an admiration both for him and for the difficult personal journey of his daughter in researching these events and chronicling her father's life. This is a deeply touching story of an unhappy family trying to make things work despite the demands placed upon it by the central character.

Everest - The First Ascent is quite simply a compelling book and provides vital insights into the 20th century history of Himalayan mountaineering. It certainly transformed my view of the Everest challenge and the way it was approached and finally solved. In my opinion this should be mandatory reading for all scholars of mountaineering history, but there's so much more to this book which I haven't had time to put in this review for fear of making it long winded!

Everest - The First Ascent is available in both Kindle and hardback formats for £10.21 and £11.34 respectively.