This book is driving me fricking nuts. I'm struggling to finish it, and can I help it if I feel like a bad person for HATING this book even though I totally support its main purpose and the mission of the subject??
I hope not. Jeez, where do I start. The writing? It's terrible. I am now going to randomly pick a page, any page, and find a ridiculous, klunky morsel for you:
"Suleman sat like a smiling Buddha next to Mortensen, his arms crossed over the beginning of a pot belly."
or,
"the inspiring view that greets these students from every classroom - the roof of the world, represented by Masherbrum's soaring summit ridge-has already helped convince many of Hushe's children to aim high."
or, (my personal favorite)
"And by the time the rising sun iced the hanging glaciers of Masherbrum pale pink, like a gargantuan pastry dangling above them at breakfast time, Mortenson had agreed to shift the funds his board had approved for the doomed Khane school upside to this village whose headman had traveled so far downriver to educate himself."
I could go on, but I'll spare you. If you'd like 350+ pages of the above prose, by all means read this book.
What else besides the writing? The methods - I was always told that non-fiction writing is a pretty specific genre, and that if you don't have a quotation written down from a source, or have it recorded somehow, you don't use quotations at all. The whole time I'm reading, I keep thinking, "there's no way Mortensen remembers every exact conversation he had 15 years ago!" (and that's an exact quote from my brain, by the way).
Plus, there are historical inaccuracies all over the place that made me question the validity of the hyperbolized text and the way in which the "co-author" (For Mortensen is the other) idolizes his subject beyond, well, objectivity. For example, there's an entire passage about the year 2000, when Mortensen is struggling with his lack of management skills, his frustration with the lack of sustainability of his foundation's finances, and fulfilling his duties to his family. He goes on a trip to SE Asia to observe other development projects, and ends up in Calcutta, and wouldn't you know it, Mother Teresa just died and he buys himself a big ole bouquet of flowers to honor her, and goes to pay his respects to her shrouded body. It's a quite moving passage (naturally it's littered with horrific metaphor, but I'll leave that alone for now), until it occurred to me that Mother Teresa died in 1997. Yeah, right after Princess Diana. I mean, I know that it's OK to take a little poetic license with this stuff, but the writer has Mortensen strutting his stuff triumphantly all over the Pakistani mountain ridges in 1997...guess it didn't fit in with the narrative arc that Mother Teresa had the indecency to die 3 years too early for Mortensen to mourn her loss at the same time he's reached his own personal crisis of faith.
Wow this sounds bitter. I guess my ultimate point is this: I believe in community-driven development. I believe that education and other related iniatives create stronger societies and really work to promote peace and alleviate violence and terror. But for such an important topic, I really feel that Mortensen deserved a writer who could be more objective and yes, gasp!, critical at times. I am left disbelieving in this foundation, and I am skeptical of its management and practices. I am wary of those who claim to forge the solutions for all in one single bound. I hope that I read another account of Mortensen that changes my mind. This book did little for me but make me despair for the unmentioned NGOs and others who are working (likely) toward the same goal in the same region, without the benefit of collaboration with this Mortensen's access to resources.
Oh yeah, and I resent the book jacket referring to Mortensen as a "real-life Indiana Jones." sheesh.