Customer Reviews

The Climb

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The debate that still rages over the relative credibility of the various books written about the 1996 Everest disaster is remarkable both for its intensity and its longevity. The fact that people are still arguing passionately about what happened nearly four years ago is kind of mind boggling. I've been following the debate from the sidelines ever since the summer of 1996, and I read both "The Climb" (TC) and "Into Thin Air" (ITA) as soon as they came out. Since then I've read almost all the other books about the tragedy as well. And recently I read the new expanded 1999 paperback editions of TC and ITA, each of which has been revised throughout, and each of which has a lengthy new postscript that answers charges made by the other book. If you have more than a passing interest in Everst 96, you will want to read both these new editions, even if, like me, you already read the first editions. The new dueling postscripts are mandatory reading if you want to have a better understanding of what happened. In my opinion, the truth lies somewhere betweeen the Krakauer account and the Boukreev/DeWalt account, although I think ITA is by far the better (and more believable) book. You, however, might feel differently. Read both new editions and decide for yourself.

All of the different Everest books offer slightly different versions of the same events. This probably shouldn't surprise anybody, considering the effects of altitude and extreme stress on memory. I generally give Krakauer the benefit of the doubt over the other books, though, because he was the only author who took detailed notes while he was on the mountain (a widely respected reporter and mountaineer, he was sent to Everest specifically to document the 1996 climbing season). Krakauer was also the only one of the Everest authors who took the time to interview virtually all the major and minor players in the tragedy, so his book has a thoroughness that is lacking in the other Everest books. The other books, including TC, will be much easier to follow if you've read ITA first. ITA provides crucial background that's missing from the other books, and seems carefully researched and relatively balanced in a way the other books do not.

Which is not to say that ITA isn't flawed. Krakauer wrote it when he was still greatly troubled by the tragedy, and the book clearly shows his raw emotional state. This gave ITA much of its stunning literary power (it is incredibly riveting to read!) but it also probably skewed Krakauer's objectivity. I think maybe he wrote more harshly about Sandy Hill Pittman and Boukreev than was necessary.

One thing that struck me is that ITA and TC are actually in agreement about most major points. ABout the only points where they diverge seriously is over the wisdom of guiding without oxygen, and whether or not Boukreev had permission from Fischer to descend ahead of his clients. On this latter point, Krakauer makes a pretty convincing argument that Boukreev didn't have permission, but I think he was wrong not to give Boukreev the benefit of the doubt. I am prepared to take Boukreev's word on this one, despite plausible evidence to the contrary. Ultimately it's not really that improtant whether Boukreev asked permission or not before he went down. It probably wasn't such a wise idea, with or without permission, but Boukreev later more than made up for it by saving the lvies of Pittman and Charlotte Fox. So I think Krakauer was wrong to make a bid deal about this.

But DeWalt makes an even bigger deal about this same issue, and thereby reveals himself to be an overly zealous advocate. TC barely even pretends to be balanced or even-handed. DeWalt writes in the style of a foaming-at-the-mouth defense attorney, less concerned with the truth than winning an acquittal for his client. He makes use of bombast and self-righteous indignation to appeal to his readers on an emotional level--the journalistic equivalent of "If the glove does not fit, you must acquit!" DeWalt presents the facts very selectively, and occasionally twists them outright, in order to build the strongest case he possibly can, hoping to make Boukreev look infallible and Krakauer look like a liar. The problem is, it's not a particularly believable strategy if you stop and consider everything logically, without emotion.

Boukreev is portrayed as a hero in both books (albeit an imperfect hero in ITA). Like other reviewers here, however, I thought DeWalt's overstated advocacy in TC actually did more to hurt Boukreev than help him. Krakauer correctly points out that DeWalt was surprisingly careless with his research and fact checking. Plus, DeWalt doesn't have much natural talent as a writer (to put it charitably), which also hurts Boukreev's cause. I wholeheartedly agree with those other reviewers who wish Boukreev had chosen a more skilful and scrupulous author to tell his story for him. As I said, however, these are simply my opinions. I urge you to read both books for yourself and make up your own mind.

Anatoli Boukreev, one of the guides on Scott Fischer's ill-fated 1996 Mountain Madness Everest expedition, feeling much maligned by Jon Krakauer's article, and subsequent best-seller, "Into Thin Air" (ITA), sets out to set the record straight in "The Climb: Tragic Ambitions on Everest" (TC).

While ITA is a first-person account, TC is written from a third person POV, with long passages of Boukreev recounting the events and his impressions of the events of May 1996 (translated from Russian). What comes through most is Boukreev's wish to clear his name. Having read both books, I believe that Mr. Boukreev has accomplished his goal. He did save several clients of Fischer's expedition and assisted several of the climbers from Rob Hall's Adventure Consultants expedition. Although he was not able to rescue Scott Fischer, neither were Lopsang Jangbu Sherpa or Ed Viesturs and Todd Burleson. It seems clear that Fischer succumbed to high-altitude cerebral edema.

What is most amazing is how lucky the Mountain Madness expedition was. The early sections recounts the logistical problems the team faced, including problems obtaining adequate supplies of oxygen, and the toll they must have taken on Fischer. However, the only casualty of the Mountain Madness expedition was Fischer himself. In contrast, Adventure Consultants lost their leader, Hall, guide Andy Harris, and clients Doug Hansen and Yasuko Namba.

In terms of readability, I believe ITA's first-person view makes it a more gripping account. Boukreev's book is too obvious an attempt to refute Krakauer. (The article Krakauer initially wrote for "Outside" must have been more critical than the book because I don't recall the latter particularly assigning blame to Boukreev.) As I said earlier, I believe Boukreev did everything within his power to prevent the disaster, and to assist other climbers, but through the book he comes across as more detached; less involved than Krakauer, who makes it clear at the end of ITA that he has unanswered questions about his own role in the events of May 1996.

I did enjoy learning about Boukreev himself. He is an interesting man, and an amazingly accomplished climber. I was particularly impressed by his efforts to bury the remains of Fischer and Namba, who he felt responsible for since he was unable to save them. I would have enjoyed more biographical material about him.

This is the story about the 1996 Everest tragedy told from the perspective of Anatoli Boukreev, who was one of the guides on the ill-fated Mountain Madness expedition. It is written almost as a rebuttal to the perceived criticism by Jon Krakauer (Into Thin Air) of Boukreev's actions on that ill-fated Everest climb.

This is a poorly written account that is oftentimes confusing. It has none of the clarity of prose found in Krakauer's "Into Thin Air". It is, however, an important chronicle from someone who was there on Everest, and who had a pivotal role in the tragic events. Boukreev provides an insider's view of the Mountain Madness expedition itself and of the preparations which go into such a journey. It is packed with many interesting details which will delight Everest junkies.

Whether Boukreev's actions on the mountain were irresponsible, in that he did not use supplementary oxygen to summit and immediately returned to camp after reaching the summit, rather than remain with the expedition's clients, or whether he was just following the orders of the expedition leader, Scott Fisher, who himself died on Everest, is an issue which will long be debated in mountaineering circles. There is no doubt, however, that Boukreev did, in fact, single handedly rescue three of the climbers during a raging blizzard; climbers who without his intervention would have died. Given the extreme weather conditions, his foray up the mountain to rescue climbers is nothing less than heroic.

Boukreev's is an important voice in the Everest annals, more so now that his voice has been silenced. On Christmas day, 1997, Boukreev died in an avalanche on Annapurna. RIP.

I think that those "defending" Anatoli Boukreev and The Climb against Jon Krakauer and Into Thin Air's "harsh, brutal accusations" need to re-read Into Thin Air.

When I first read Into Thin Air, I walked away thinking "what a tragedy" and "how sad". I didn't walk away thinking that specific people were to blame for the tragedy that happened that day. For days after finishing the book, I thought about the MANY INCIDENCES Jon Krakauer pointed out that led up to deaths of eight people on Mt. Everest that May, 1996. Jon Krakauer seemed to write objectively -- stating his interpretations of mistakes made by many, including Scott Fischer, Rob Hall, Anatoli Boukreev -- and himself. Never did I get the feeling that Jon Krakauer blamed Anatoli Boukreev for the events that occured that day. Actions by Boukreev were just one more contributing factor -- along with actions by Fischer, Hall, Krakauer, the other guides and sherpas of Mountain Madness and Adventure Consultants, the other expeditions on the mountain, and Mother Nature.

Although very interesting and informative, The Climb is too defensive, and strikes back at Into Thin Air when there is nothing to "stike back against". Yes, Krakauer questioned some of the decisions Anatoli made, but he also noted that Anatoli was a hero, as well. He also questioned decisions made by others (will they be coming out with a book also to defend their actions!). So, why did Anatoli feel the need to be so defensive of his "actions" that day -- if he did nothing wrong?

Into Thin Air is an incredible book that raises many questions -- with regards to the commercialization of climbing Mt. Everest and the tragedy that happend May 10, 1996. I felt that Krakauer wrote the book to relay information and make people understand the dangers of high altitude climbing -- and perhaps try to release some of the demons that haunt him from his actions that day.

Into Thin Air is by far the better of the two books -- but I do agree that both books compliment each other. Everything that happens in this world is subjective. Let's just agree that what happend in May 1996 on Mt. Everest was a tragedy and should be remembered -- so it will never happen again.

This book is Anatoli Boukreev's rebuttal of Jon Krakauer's criticism of Boukreev's actions on May 10, 1996, when three teams attempted to summit Everest. Krakauer's "Into Thin Air," of course, was the first of the two books published, was a best seller, and arguably is better written, and for these reasons many will consider Boukreev guilty until proved innocent. This book presents evidence, which I find compelling, that the actions of Boukreev that Krakauer criticizes were not irresponsible, rather that they were part of a plan, approved by Scott Fischer, to get Boukreev from the summit to Camp IV quickly to retrieve additional oxygen cannisters for the clients. Even before this book appeared, writer and mountineer Galen Rowell took to task Krakauer's treatment of Boukreev in his Wall Street Journal review of ITA. And in 1997, a year after the tragedy on Everest, The American Alpine Club's award committee unanimously voted to extend the Club's prestigious David A. Sowles Memorial Award to Boukreev. Clearly, there are many among the ranks of mountineers who do not share Krakauer's critical view of Boukreev's actions on Everest on May 10, 1996. Above I noted that ITA is arguably better written than this book. That is not to say that I found this book poorly written: I did not. Indeed I found this book provided more insight into the strategy of climbing a mountain such as Everest. Boukreev comes though in these pages as quietly heroic and a man truly happy only when climbing: a mountain man. I have no doubt that Rob Hall and Scott Fischer were of the same mould. For the most part, however, their clients - people ready and able to pony up the sixty-grand that it took to put themselves in harm's way and thus secure cocktail party bragging rights - are of a different mould altogether. Mountain man or dilettante, Everest embraces all. Bottom line: If the subject of the disastrous expeditions to Everest in May of 1996 interests you, then you should read both "Into Thin Air" and this book.

Boukreev has a remarkable story to tell. Unfortunately, hepicked Dewalt to help him do it. Obviously written as a rebuttal toJon Krakauer's Into Thin Air, The Climb is equal parts fascinating and frustrating. The story is fascinating when it gives us a view from Boukreev's position as a climbing guide on Scott Fischer's 1996 Everest expedition. The sense that the expedition was thrown together in a somewhat haphazard fashion and the description of utter chaos on the mountain during and after the storm are conveyed quite effectively.

Dewalt fails, however, in his attempt to advocate on behalf of Boukreev. His repeated criticism of Krakauer and defense of every step taken by Boukreev quickly becomes redundant and diminishes Dewalt's ability to effectively tell the story. Indeed, Dewalt rushes past background information and detail to such an extent that the reader (particulary those not familiar with descriptions of Everest and the surrounding area) would be well advised to read the much better written Into Thin Air first in order to fully understand what's going on in The Climb. Ultimately, Dewalt does Boukreev a disservice by his insistent advocacy. He would have been better served if he had simply told Boukreev's remarkable story and let the readers decide issues of right and wrong.

In the end, Krakauer's fairy well supported criticsm of Boukreev doesn't need this much rebuttal. What Boukreev is able to show is that Krakauer's concerns, while possibly justified, may have made little difference on summit day. Once certain questionable decisions had been made, Boukreev proved himself to be a hero, with more courage and physical ability than anyone else on the mountain, by far. Fischer, Hall and the others died for a number of reasons, most directly because Fischer didn't have the experience or organizational ability to mount a guided Everest expedition and because the very experienced Hall ignored his own critcally important rules on summit day. Boukreev should be remembered as the courageous hero and incredible athlete he was (the "Michael Jordan" of mountain climbing) and Krakauer, whose writing and analysis far outshines Dewalt's, shouldn't waste his time responding to Dewalt's crticisms.

Just about everybody agrees that Boukreev was one of the world's greatest Himalayan climbers. But his personality wasn't suited for guiding rich novices up Everest, and he didn't show very good judgment in choosing G. Weston DeWalt to write "The Climb" for him. DeWalt is a worse than mediocre writer, and he protests way too much that Boukreev didn't make any mistakes on Everest in 1996. DeWalt also spends way too much time slandering John Krakauer, who didn't even criticize Boukreev that harshly in his much more carefully researched and more balanced book, "Into Thin Air." DeWalt's arguments are based mostly on innuendo and highly selective presentation of the facts. He appeals to readers' emotions rather than their intellects, apparently hoping that his claims wouldn't be subjected to critical analysis. I for one found DeWalt's methods insulting to my intelligence.

If you really want to know how much better "Into Thin Air" is than "The Climb," try reading "The Climb" first. You'll quickly realize how many holes there are in the Boukreev-DeWalt book, and you'll better appreciate how it was written as an overly defensive response to Krakauer. If you're going to read "The Climb," you owe it to yourself to read the 1999 paperback edition of "Into Thin Air," which has a detailed new postscript that convincingly debunks DeWalt's overstated claims.

This is a quick read, one or two days maximum, and worth the time even though the book is not especially well written. "The Climb" is another account ("Into Thin Air," by Jon Krakauer, is the first) of the events of a 1996 expedition to summit Mt. Everest. The Climb was co-authored by Anatoli Boukreev, a guide on the Mountain Madness expedition that was, some feel, treated unfairly in Krakauer's account of the disaster (this is arguable - Krakauer did question some of Anatoli's actions, but he was much more severe in his criticism of Rob Hall and Scott Fischer, the principal guides on the Mountain Madness (Fischer) and Adventure Consultants (Hall) expedition teams. Thus, most of the book is presented as a defense of the actions of Anatoli and the Mountain Madness team, and the reader is poorly served as a result. Krakauer, in particular, seems to have drawn the ire of the co-authors for questioning the decisions made on the fateful summit day.

Unfortunately for the reader, however, The Climb does not take the time to step back and view the forest from the trees, so to speak, and one is constantly reminded that the sole object of the book is to hail the efforts of Anatoli at the expense of all others. The result is a rather muddled account of the disaster, without a treatment of what the other climbers and expeditions were doing while the disaster was playing out. Into Thin Air presents a much more comprehensive, thorough approach, and in this respect far outclasses The Climb in terms of readability.

Despite these shortcomings and the author's less than balanced approach to his subject, the book does shed considerable light on Anatoli's decisions, and one comes away with a better appreciation for his actions. Whether or not Anatoli's actions were correct, I am certainly not qualified to judge, but his bravery is above reproach, and the book did a credible job of restoring Anatoli's reputation as an heroic and dedicated climber.

Although countless mistakes were made on Everest in 1996, all present seemed to have done everything in their power to save lives once the disaster was in full bloom. Rob Hall and Scott Fischer obviously paid for their mistakes not only with their lives, but those of their clients, and I am sure that both men, were they alive today, would be the first to censure themselves. But all climbers who sign on for such an expedition knew full well the risks they took, as well as the risks they could not plan for. All who died will be remembered as intrepid souls who risked their lives in search of a more fulfilling existence, and for that they should be commended. Deplore the mistakes, but not the people who made them. We can only hope that future expeditions will learn from the accounts presented here and in Into Thin Air.

I enjoyed this book because it adds further knowledge to the tantalising mystery on what happened on the tragic Everest expeditions lead by Rob Hall and Scott Fisher in May '96. Personally I feel Boukreev's cause would have been better served had he chosen to remain silent or at least found a writer who was not so obviously motivated by the need to cast him in such a heroic light. Into Thin Air was for me a superior book -not only for the quality of the writing but also because Krakauer has tried to be as even-handed as possible in his description of the events surrounding the climb. His memory of events may be flawed (unsurprsing given what all the climbers went through)and perhaps some of his opinions are not supported by others but one senses that he has tried to the best of his ability to recreate the unfolding tragedy. Dewalts book on the other hand seems to be motivated largely by a perceived need to clear Boukreev's name (and as an adjunct to that to perhaps also cast a few aspersions in Jon Krakauer's direction). This to me is a serious flaw which runs through the entire work and makes Dewalt a less credible mouthpiece for Boukreev - a shame as no-one can deny what an outstanding climber he undoubtedly was. I also felt after reading this book that a lot of the blame for what went wrong in Fisher's expedition must belong with Fisher. He comes across as a charismatic figure and also a courageous and amicable person but not the best person to be making the decisions needed in planning a guided expedition for paying clients. Finally, one minor annoyance which I found with Dewalt's book is his penchant for foot-notes. The book teems with them and the information they offer often seems irrelevant or could simply have been included in the body of the text.

I read The Climb first, and then Into Thin Air. Right after I finished reading The Climb I was outraged at Jon Krakauer for being unfair to Boukreev. Boukreev's ghostwriter, Weston DeWalt, made Krakauer out to be an evil man who used his writing genius to slander poor Anatoli. But then I actually read Krakauer's book and found that DeWalt's claim that Into Thin Air is a hatchet job to be wildly exaggerated. I think Krakauer treated Boukreev quite fairly. He praises Boukreev's strength and courage. Yes, he also criticizes Boukreev for certain actions, but his criticisms seem right on the money. It's not Krakauer who says Boukreev "cut and ran," he is simply quoting one of Boukreev's clients. I've been to lectures where others who were on Everest in 1996 (Breashears, Viesturs, and Beidleman) confirmed in public that Krakauer's book is accurate and his criticisms valid. They also made it clear that The Climb is dishonest about certain important points. The more I thought about it, the less honest The Climb seemed to me. Whereas Krakauer admits to his mistakes, Boukreev never admits to any mistakes, and blames everything that goes wrong on others (mostly Scott Fischer, who handily isn't around to say otherwise). And The Climb is full of contradictions: Boukreev says he's stronger without bottled oxygen, so why did he use oxygen when he went back to guide Everest in 1997? Also, his explanation for abandoning his clients on the summit and descending ahead of everybody doesn't wash with me. The Climb just smells fishy. Boukreev presents himself as the one true hero of Everest, wiithout giving enough credit to others, like Neal Beidleman and Klev Schoening. The book is way too defensive and self-promoting. I don't trust it. It's also wretchedly written and edited. It makes me wonder if the research and fact-checking were done just as carelessly. The Climb reads like an exercise in spin control or propaganda, not journalism. It has too many gratuitous digs at Krakauer, Beid!leman, Athans, and others who have dared criticize the great Boukreev. The outraged claims that Boukreev was unfairly persecuted in Krakauer's book seems like a calculated marketing ploy on the part of DeWalt and his publisher. It's as if the publisher didn't have confidence that the book would sell on it's own merits, so they decided to present Boukreev as the victim, and to pitch The Climb as an attack on Krakauer's book. DeWalt complains that Into Thin Air is inaccurate and unfair, and that The Climb is the "True Account" of the tragedy. In the end, after reading Into Thin Air, I came away thinking the opposite is the case.