This book requires a good deal of patience with the writer as she navigates her personal journey of the soul — the Antarctic being but a stopping point, albeit a defining one. Some have aptly described it as “creative non-fiction”.
The primal story of Antarctica had long since been written by Shackleton, Scott and Amundsen in the process of what they did, and retold by others. What remains for those following on, such as Jean McNeil, is to address our human response to that alien world and what one’s exposure to its mysteries does to a person. To be sure, there is a common theme to that reaction: isolation, darkness, extreme cold, disorientation. But then, each person experiencing it is left to consider their own psychic path through that ice-bound realm. McNeil does so by means of a sort of diary, interleaved with recollections of a disjointed and troubled personal life. I often became impatient with her abrupt changes in time, leaping backward and forward over decades; and while her exploration of her anxiety attacks were grittily convincing, they didn’t make for enjoyable reading.
I think that the most defining passage is where she writes “The Antarctic was an attempt to resolve inner conflicts in my existence. I would not return to Canada to do it; it was safer to enact it far away, under an upside-down heaven, in a frozen foreign colony. How appropriate that I would go to that continent at the bottom of the planet, that place onto which we project our dark fantasies, as much as our utopias.”
In reading “Ice Diaries” one learns almost nothing new about Antarctica while learning much about Jean McNeil, especially about her emotional challenges. Despite all of that, I was still left with a sense that I never really came to understand her as a whole person. So, as a memoir, I don’t think it is truly a success.