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Erratica: On Climbing, Language, and Touching Stone
Part adventure narrative, part philosophical inquiry, and part love letter to climbing and natural spaces, Erratica is a radiant exploration of what happens when a human body meets the earth with full attention.
After Brian Laidlaw climbed El Capitan, Yosemite’s iconic stone monolith, he found himself facing a repeated question: “So, what was it like up there?” It isn’t enough, he knows, to just to describe the sensation of the rock beneath his hands and feet—a climb is so much more than physical movement.
This seemingly simple question initiates Brian’s poetic quest for the perfect metaphor, traveling from the erratics of his youth in California to the towers of his current home in Moab, Utah. He traces lines up moon-washed faces in Indian Creek and edits his body language under boulders in Joe’s Valley. He lives parallel lives and dies parallel deaths on free solos in Colorado, and eventually, back in his childhood stomping grounds in the Sierra Nevada, he writes and revises routes of his own.
Along the way, he beckons us into a community bound as much by narrative as by rope. They exchange gear, chalk, and advice as they test each foothold and fissure. Kindred strangers knit into traveling bands of belayers, swapping snacks and cautionary tales. Here, any passing climber holds the ability to shift “spontaneously into the best coach I’ve ever known.”
Exhilarating and lyrical, approachable yet profound, Erratica invites us to share a rope with this community of climbers, to measure our humanity against the expanse of stone.
After Brian Laidlaw climbed El Capitan, Yosemite’s iconic stone monolith, he found himself facing a repeated question: “So, what was it like up there?” It isn’t enough, he knows, to just to describe the sensation of the rock beneath his hands and feet—a climb is so much more than physical movement.
This seemingly simple question initiates Brian’s poetic quest for the perfect metaphor, traveling from the erratics of his youth in California to the towers of his current home in Moab, Utah. He traces lines up moon-washed faces in Indian Creek and edits his body language under boulders in Joe’s Valley. He lives parallel lives and dies parallel deaths on free solos in Colorado, and eventually, back in his childhood stomping grounds in the Sierra Nevada, he writes and revises routes of his own.
Along the way, he beckons us into a community bound as much by narrative as by rope. They exchange gear, chalk, and advice as they test each foothold and fissure. Kindred strangers knit into traveling bands of belayers, swapping snacks and cautionary tales. Here, any passing climber holds the ability to shift “spontaneously into the best coach I’ve ever known.”
Exhilarating and lyrical, approachable yet profound, Erratica invites us to share a rope with this community of climbers, to measure our humanity against the expanse of stone.
232 pages, Paperback
Published September 8, 2026
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Displaying 1 - 3 of 3 reviews
Review of advance copy received from NetGalley
I appreciated that the author started with some credentials. And I truly would love the climbing world to be open to writing by more than just the top few climbers on repeat. But this was not it for me.
I have been a passionate climber for 25 years. I climbed at the author’s levels and in most of the places he mentioned. I think about rocks all the time.
And yet, I’ve never felt more disconnected from writing about climbing as in this book. I wondered first if it was gender. He seems to climb with mostly white dudes. But more than that, it felt like a close-mindedness. Like, I would be more ok if he presented his thoughts as, “This is how I feel…” but they were written as, “This is how climbers feel.” And I did not. My friends do not.
I think the arrogance also alienated me. He reflects on how when climbing in a group, no one talks about work. To him that meant, “No one knows I’m secretly a nerd,” in a way that sounded like he thought he was better than them. He doesn’t acknowledge that the people he’s climbing with may also be doctors and engineers and scientists, not just writers who spend a lot of time with a thesaurus. I have loved how I didn’t have to talk about work and that side of me while climbing, but I didn’t ever smugly assume I was smarter than everyone else.
I also found it weird what was avoided. There was almost no talk of dating or relationships or lack thereof. Hardly any women exist in here even as acquaintances. And he seems to avoid ages and years in an odd way.
Overall I found myself skimming all the flowery prose and skipping to the action bits.
I have been a passionate climber for 25 years. I climbed at the author’s levels and in most of the places he mentioned. I think about rocks all the time.
And yet, I’ve never felt more disconnected from writing about climbing as in this book. I wondered first if it was gender. He seems to climb with mostly white dudes. But more than that, it felt like a close-mindedness. Like, I would be more ok if he presented his thoughts as, “This is how I feel…” but they were written as, “This is how climbers feel.” And I did not. My friends do not.
I think the arrogance also alienated me. He reflects on how when climbing in a group, no one talks about work. To him that meant, “No one knows I’m secretly a nerd,” in a way that sounded like he thought he was better than them. He doesn’t acknowledge that the people he’s climbing with may also be doctors and engineers and scientists, not just writers who spend a lot of time with a thesaurus. I have loved how I didn’t have to talk about work and that side of me while climbing, but I didn’t ever smugly assume I was smarter than everyone else.
I also found it weird what was avoided. There was almost no talk of dating or relationships or lack thereof. Hardly any women exist in here even as acquaintances. And he seems to avoid ages and years in an odd way.
Overall I found myself skimming all the flowery prose and skipping to the action bits.
Review of advance copy received from Publisher
[Sincere thanks to Milkweed Editions and to Bookworks Albuquerque for providing me an advance review copy]
Passions are impossible to describe to those who don't feel them, yet most of us can't help but try: think of the countless hours you've spent explaining the joys of stamp collecting and model trains to your remaining friends.
Laidlaw has several advantages that improve his odds of conveying the wonders of rock climbing. For one, he's a lifelong climber so he doesn't have that new-convert preachiness. He's also a gifted climber, strong, talented, with ample time to train and climb (he acknowledges his privilege). Most importantly, he's a gifted writer with an eye for detail and an ability to convey the feeling of being on rock. His language is evocative; his reflections insightful and illuminating. He muses on the nature of consciousness, on ecology and ethics, history, geology, on death and on living well. His risk calculations differ significantly from mine, but that's why poets tell better stories than engineers: "I decided to call it a day"—my regular mantra—does not a rapt audience make.
Recommended not just for climbers but for anyone pursuing a life of intention and meaning.
Passions are impossible to describe to those who don't feel them, yet most of us can't help but try: think of the countless hours you've spent explaining the joys of stamp collecting and model trains to your remaining friends.
Laidlaw has several advantages that improve his odds of conveying the wonders of rock climbing. For one, he's a lifelong climber so he doesn't have that new-convert preachiness. He's also a gifted climber, strong, talented, with ample time to train and climb (he acknowledges his privilege). Most importantly, he's a gifted writer with an eye for detail and an ability to convey the feeling of being on rock. His language is evocative; his reflections insightful and illuminating. He muses on the nature of consciousness, on ecology and ethics, history, geology, on death and on living well. His risk calculations differ significantly from mine, but that's why poets tell better stories than engineers: "I decided to call it a day"—my regular mantra—does not a rapt audience make.
Recommended not just for climbers but for anyone pursuing a life of intention and meaning.
Review of advance copy received from NetGalley
Beautiful rocky read. Totally Ace
Displaying 1 - 3 of 3 reviews