I was astonished at how different the ‘adventure narrative’
was when told from a journalism perspective. This time, for the first time,
we’re not getting the story from the leader(s) of an expedition, we’re getting
it from a climber / client / journalist. This time, we got a small look into
everyone else’s minds during the expedition. Krakauer, although he did
concentrate on his own experience because it was the one he knew best, also
delivered to the readers many of the other myriad details of his and other
accompanying expeditions. The result was a rather well rounded story instead of
a one-sided look into an adventure. I was endlessly fascinated in particular
(so far – haven’t finished yet) by the group dynamics created by the other
expeditions on Everest, and how that caused considerable strain on Hall’s
expedition. Especially having incompetent climbing groups on the mountain
seemed to have a serious impact on the success of the climb overall. Hall and
Fischer, as two of the more competent leaders, felt a responsibility towards
everyone on the mountain in terms of safety, not just their own clients and
Sherpas. Thus when the other groups inevitably got themselves into trouble, Hall
and Fischer took it upon themselves to provide help, in spite of the danger
that doing so posed to their own climbs’ success. The report of this from
Krakauer’s perspective is surely very different from what it would have been
from Hall’s or Fischer’s. In this instance I was grateful for the journalistic
approach, and felt confidant that I was getting a more accurate report of
reality.
In addition, a lot of history was delivered throughout Into Thin Air, making it very
educational and again providing a more all-encompassing account of the
adventure. I found that Krakauer’s book gave me a new understanding of the
Sherpas’ goals and responsibilities where Blum and Herzog saw only through
their own eyes. Krakauer, in his pursuit of writing this book, took the time to
interview the Sherpas about the climb individually, something that I highly
doubt Herzog or Blum had much interest in doing. Krakauer’s inclusion of
climbing history also gave me a new look at the minds of climbers from a fairly
removed position. Whereas before I had an image of a highly driven and focused
person as a good climber, now I also understand that a good climber knows when
to admit defeat and turn around, despite his/her desires and regrets. This gave
me a deeper appreciation for good climbing guides and for climbing in general –
it truly is a test of the self. Can you want it enough to give it all you have,
and can you distinguish that fine line between the need for a little more
effort to achieve success and the slip into irrational narrow-mindedness that
leads to destruction? Krakauer was able to articulate that difference for me,
as well as the cost that both cases can reap.
I found Herzog’s book to be somewhat exasperating, Blum’s to
be a little mystifying, and Bancroft’s and Arnesen’s to be uplifting. But Into Thin Air was sobering, and while it
wasn’t my favorite read thus far, I really appreciated the frank gravity of the
telling of the events, largely born, I believe, from Krakauer’s initial
understanding that he was going as a journalist, and that his book was meant to
be a journalistic approach to the reporting of a climb. The absence of a
leadership role and its accompanying stresses allowed Krakauer to produce an
entirely different story.
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