Touching
the Void rapidly entranced me as I fell into its pages. The ease with which
I was captivated into this adventure narrative was less likely an effect of Joe
Simpson’s descriptive prowess, and more likely due to the staging on his part
of imminent danger that I was intentionally dropped into as a reader. Simpson
chooses to begin his harrowing tale with a map. Notably, instead of a
mountainous route describing someone’s ascent to the summit of a mountain,
Simpson’s map is illustrated with disasters. “Snow Hole” sites quickly give way
to “Accident” sites, “Rope Cut” sites, nights spent alone, cliffs, and
crevasses. Following this intimidating map, the story begins at the mountain’s
base. There is no forward to climbing besides a single reconnaissance trip that
is described as little more than an afternoon hike. Both Joe Simpson and his
climbing partner Simon Yates seem equally surprised at the ease of the
exertion, stating that “it’s a height record for both of us, and we seem hardly
to have noticed” (cue ominous music)(22). The next few pages are subsequently
fraught with descriptions of being “bloody frightened,” of “trying not to
worry,” and jokes about obituary photos, all of which added to my feeling of an
impending doom (26,27). Obviously, I was expecting tragedy with an after-title
like “The True Story of One Man’s Miraculous Survival,” but my reading of the
narrative was nonetheless affected by the tone of the early chapters.
This narrative excels at putting a
reader into the mindset of the climber as
they are climbing. This is unique from the other narratives that we have
read, and significant, in that thought processes and doubts are included into
the story. Decision-making, dealing with unforeseen circumstances (i.e.
climbing ahead of your partner and forgetting to get their ice screws), and
conferring between group members whilst confronting personal doubts and fears,
is undoubtedly a huge part of what it is like to climb, so it’s something of a
surprise that this level of insight is new to me. I suppose these aspects of
mountain story telling are exaggerated by the method and style of the climb
itself. The plotting of routes, the conference of teammates, and the decisions
that are made are done against a vertical wall of ice, with nothing but foot
spikes and ice tools separating the storyteller from death. I’m not saying that
the previous adventures we have read about lacked
strategy, danger, or gut wrenching views to a ground below, but that those
aspects of the climbs were far more removed from the reader’s eye.
I also experienced the same thing that Matt did. As soon as the reader begins this book, the eminence of disaster is immediately introduced and lurking just beyond the next page. The map is one way that this is shown and almost everything is described on the back cover. You go into this novel with really no surprises about the sequence of events that are about to occur. Yet although the reader already knows whats going to happen, Simpson makes each description and event compelling through his use of multiple first-person narrators. The reader knows that Simon will eventually cut the rope, what we don't know is his agonizing mental decision, guilt, and later acceptance. We also could never conceptualize Joe's inability to act while hanging on the rope for an hour, or his thought process when extracting himself from the crevasse. I really enjoyed how even though I went into this novel knowing what would happen, every experience was new and captivating.
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