Owen Lattimore occupies an odd niche in the world of American studies of the Far East, half-adventurer (at least in his early days) and half-scholar, raised in Tianjin, fluent in Chinese but fascinated by the subjects of this memoir, the people and geography of the Mongolian region. He knew some of the languages, could distinguish peoples and cultures, down to the horses they used. While an improvement on the players of the Great Game for influence in Asia and the scholar Europeans who high-mindedly looted archeological sites for their museums, he was still capable, as "High Tartary" shows, of condescending Orientalism. He was the kind of man who married a woman who matched him in travel and writing acumen but who mentions her only off-handedly in this book about a trip that they took together (except for the long, arduous journey she took to catch up to him). Still, it is a stunning record of a time that has vanished, 1930, when Soviet Russia ineptly faced a feeble warlord-torn China across a land with people who mostly wanted to be left alone, except for whatever money and usable goods might come through.
Lattimore's sympathy for the people and their way of life is remarkable despite the power imbalance between the traveler and his helpers. And he went on to a distinguished career in journalism, crowned perhaps and reaching his greatest fame as a target of the drunken inquisitor, Shameless Joe McCarthy. Perjury charges against Lattimore were dismissed and he went on to a distinguished and influential career, unlike McCarthy, whose influence lives on wherever politicians disdain thought and the search for knowledge.