on a rainy Sunday afternoon/evening
Two weeks ago.
My first thought upon picking up Jon Krakauer's Into Thin Air was - Hardcover. Not bad.
Thinking back, it was such empty-headed thought that crossed my mind, upon which the decision of whether to read the book was founded. Well, served me right, when I later experienced the slight dose of depression I occasionally get reading factual accounts. No exaggerations here.
After all, that's life. The phrase 'happily-ever-after' draws to a close at the line defining fact from fiction. In the book, the tragedy of the Mt. Everest Disaster only serves to remind us yet again how infinitesimal each of us are. How vulnerable. Any second now, we might just find ourselves plummeting into a bottomless abyss. And that's what just happened atop Mt. Everest, 1996.
At a first glance, the book looked like yet another dreary documentation of some outlying incident. None of my business. DON'T be fooled. It's both rich in content and verbose (in a good way) for those I'm-so-smart-the-book-I'm-reading-uses-the-words-discombobulation-and-circumlocution-haha! people out there.
Now, more about my take:
I liked how the author meticulously detailed out the whole incident, making it all the more concrete and intimate to the reader. At the conclusion, I felt as though I had known each character personally. It doesn't end there, though. I could almost feel the crisp, frosty air and swirls of snow at the Everest basecamp. Krakauer managed to recreate the remote, otherworldly realm atop the summit of the world.
Oh crap. I've got to go out for dinner now. To be continued...
Actually, you know what? Just read the book for yourself. In a (gigantic) nutshell, what I was trying to bring across was that :
Krakauer weaves together his flowing narrative and a touch keen insight to present a first-hand, haunting account of the Mt. Everest Disaster. Yep. That sounded better than the whole post.
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