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WHITE OUT
The sole survivor of a 1942 World War II mission to the Antarctic shares his extraordinary story of survival after a German U-boat nearly destroyed their encampment.
256 pages, Hardcover
First published January 1, 1999
42 people want to read
About the author
James Vance Marshall
37 books12 followersPseudonym of Donald Gordon Payne.
Donald Gordon Payne was an English author of adventure novels and travel books.
Donald Gordon Payne was born in Denmark Hill in South East London in January 1924. His father, Francis, was a New Zealander, who served in the First World War with the ANZACS. His mother was Evelyn Rodgers, a nurse during the Great War.
He was educated at Dulwich College Preparatory School and then at Charterhouse School. As a child he travelled with his parents to New Zealand and parts of the East coast of Australia – an experience which left him with a lifelong affection for these countries.
Deferring his place at Corpus Christi College Oxford, he enlisted in the Fleet Air Arm in 1943. After training at Sealand, near Liverpool, and at Kingston, Ontario, Canada he was awarded his wings and joined Swordfish Squadron 811 and later 835. He took part in Atlantic and Russian convoys in 1944 and 1945 as a Swordfish pilot, mainly on anti-submarine duties.
After the war he studied at Oxford and became an editor and ghost writer for the London based publishing firm of Christopher Johnson. From there he moved into a full-time career as a writer.
Using James Vance Marshall as a pseudonym, Payne wrote such books as A River Ran Out of Eden (1962) and White-Out (1999). His most famous book is probably Walkabout (1959), first published as The Children and later made into a movie starring Jenny Agutter.
Payne has also used Ian Cameron and Donald Gordon as pseudonyms. As Donald Gordon, he published, among others, Riders of the Storm (2002), an official history of the Royal National Lifeboat Institution. As Ian Cameron, he wrote The Lost Ones (1961), later dramatized by Disney as The Island at the Top of the World, as well as The Mountain at the Bottom of the World (1975) and The White Ship (1975).
He disliked publicity of any kind, preferring to stay out of the limelight. During his long and distinguished publishing career he made few author appearances, notably for the Royal Geographical Society, the Royal Lifeboat Institution and the Reader's Digest.
He lived in Surrey, England, and had four sons and one daughter. He passed away on 22 August, 2018 at the age of 94.
Donald Gordon Payne was an English author of adventure novels and travel books.
Donald Gordon Payne was born in Denmark Hill in South East London in January 1924. His father, Francis, was a New Zealander, who served in the First World War with the ANZACS. His mother was Evelyn Rodgers, a nurse during the Great War.
He was educated at Dulwich College Preparatory School and then at Charterhouse School. As a child he travelled with his parents to New Zealand and parts of the East coast of Australia – an experience which left him with a lifelong affection for these countries.
Deferring his place at Corpus Christi College Oxford, he enlisted in the Fleet Air Arm in 1943. After training at Sealand, near Liverpool, and at Kingston, Ontario, Canada he was awarded his wings and joined Swordfish Squadron 811 and later 835. He took part in Atlantic and Russian convoys in 1944 and 1945 as a Swordfish pilot, mainly on anti-submarine duties.
After the war he studied at Oxford and became an editor and ghost writer for the London based publishing firm of Christopher Johnson. From there he moved into a full-time career as a writer.
Using James Vance Marshall as a pseudonym, Payne wrote such books as A River Ran Out of Eden (1962) and White-Out (1999). His most famous book is probably Walkabout (1959), first published as The Children and later made into a movie starring Jenny Agutter.
Payne has also used Ian Cameron and Donald Gordon as pseudonyms. As Donald Gordon, he published, among others, Riders of the Storm (2002), an official history of the Royal National Lifeboat Institution. As Ian Cameron, he wrote The Lost Ones (1961), later dramatized by Disney as The Island at the Top of the World, as well as The Mountain at the Bottom of the World (1975) and The White Ship (1975).
He disliked publicity of any kind, preferring to stay out of the limelight. During his long and distinguished publishing career he made few author appearances, notably for the Royal Geographical Society, the Royal Lifeboat Institution and the Reader's Digest.
He lived in Surrey, England, and had four sons and one daughter. He passed away on 22 August, 2018 at the age of 94.
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Displaying 1 - 8 of 8 reviews
July 3, 2012
This story was so captivating that I kept my whole family intrigued retelling it on a family roadtrip. They could hardly wait to hear what happened next. It's a book most men would enjoy reading. I learned a lot about Antarctica and loved visualizing the scenery. Remarkably descriptive. Even felt freezing while reading it!
October 18, 2016
I picked this book up for free from a library discard pile - what a find!! I really loved the descriptions of Antartica - I felt like I was actually there (without the cold). A quick and intriguing read - about human survival, humanity, and our connection to the wild world. (I would give it 4.5 stars!)
August 1, 2024
Muy entretenida historia. Lo mejor es que se desarrolla en la Antártica y la forma en la que esa experiencia transforma al protagonista es tanto asombrosa como inspiradora. Maravilloso setting. Me encantó.
June 2, 2023
This isn’t my usual type of book, but I really enjoyed it.
September 13, 2011
I read this as part of a Global Reading Challenge in 2010. It was one of two books that had to be set in Antarctica. Books set in Antarctica are not incredibly plentiful; they’re out there, but the pickings are slim compared to, say, Europe or Asia. So this book wasn’t exactly something I was panting to read, but even so it was kind of disappointing. I don’t really know anything about this author. There’s a whole list of other books that he’s written on the inside cover of this one—and I’m guessing those books are most likely genre fiction, something that appeals to retired men. Spy novels or war stories or mysteries about gruff, retired investigators. The writing was kind of staid, colorless, obligatory. The story also took this incredibly old-fashioned, stiff-upper-lip philosophy to its heart. That is all so out of my wheelhouse that I really couldn’t even comprehend it.
There was the narrative problem. The book had a very specific five-part structure, and what I would consider the emotional climax of the book—when the stranded protagonist basically surrenders to his love for the pristine beauty of the Antarctic ecosystem he’s previously been fighting against—happens in the fourth section. That leaves a fifth section—not an insignificant portion of the book—to wrap up literally every loose end that ever existed, including where, geographically, the main character retires to 50 years after the fact. Some attempt is made to sustain the suspense with the man’s secrets arising late-in-life, but it all just sort of fizzles away. I admit, had I been the editor, I would’ve taken the hatchet to the entire last section.
The book suffered most greatly from my comparisons to The Narrative of Arthur Gordon Pym of Nantucket & Related Tales. Though the stories are not a perfect match for one another (Pym does end up in Antarctica briefly, but under totally different circumstances), a lot of the themes are the same—solitude, survival. It occurs to me that Life of Pi also belongs in this strain (survival lit!). Both Pym and Pi work on two levels—as a suspense story about a character in unliveable circumstances, struggling to stay alive, and as a philosophical study of same. What that kind of intense situation does to one’s mind.
White-Out had the potential for all of that. Its protagonist lives alone in a tent on an Antarctic glacier for months, trying to stave off starvation and lamenting that he can’t remember what the sun looks like. Writing that is one thing—but making it suspenseful is another (this was a non-starter anyway, because we KNOW he survives, because the first chapter sets up his return to civilization)—and making it meaningful is yet another. I would have taken one without the other, but this book did not do either well—or at least not up to the standards of Poe or Pi’s Yann Martel.
Bottom line: the story was not well-written enough to work as literary fiction, not well-plotted enough to work as suspense fiction, or deep enough to work as philosophical fiction. The only point I would really give it is that it was an effective love letter to Antarctica. I mentioned that the climactic moment was when the protagonist surrendered to the wild, pristine beauty of the landscape. There are lengthy descriptions of the seasonal return of the penguins and fish and birds and otters and whatnot that signal for the character both the end of the winter (inasmuch as it’s ever not winter in Antarctica) and the return of other living beings into his life. That section was nice; I enjoyed it. Also, it was the only point in the book that felt like it was really taking place in a strange environment—the only time I felt transported to Antarctica.
There was the narrative problem. The book had a very specific five-part structure, and what I would consider the emotional climax of the book—when the stranded protagonist basically surrenders to his love for the pristine beauty of the Antarctic ecosystem he’s previously been fighting against—happens in the fourth section. That leaves a fifth section—not an insignificant portion of the book—to wrap up literally every loose end that ever existed, including where, geographically, the main character retires to 50 years after the fact. Some attempt is made to sustain the suspense with the man’s secrets arising late-in-life, but it all just sort of fizzles away. I admit, had I been the editor, I would’ve taken the hatchet to the entire last section.
The book suffered most greatly from my comparisons to The Narrative of Arthur Gordon Pym of Nantucket & Related Tales. Though the stories are not a perfect match for one another (Pym does end up in Antarctica briefly, but under totally different circumstances), a lot of the themes are the same—solitude, survival. It occurs to me that Life of Pi also belongs in this strain (survival lit!). Both Pym and Pi work on two levels—as a suspense story about a character in unliveable circumstances, struggling to stay alive, and as a philosophical study of same. What that kind of intense situation does to one’s mind.
White-Out had the potential for all of that. Its protagonist lives alone in a tent on an Antarctic glacier for months, trying to stave off starvation and lamenting that he can’t remember what the sun looks like. Writing that is one thing—but making it suspenseful is another (this was a non-starter anyway, because we KNOW he survives, because the first chapter sets up his return to civilization)—and making it meaningful is yet another. I would have taken one without the other, but this book did not do either well—or at least not up to the standards of Poe or Pi’s Yann Martel.
Bottom line: the story was not well-written enough to work as literary fiction, not well-plotted enough to work as suspense fiction, or deep enough to work as philosophical fiction. The only point I would really give it is that it was an effective love letter to Antarctica. I mentioned that the climactic moment was when the protagonist surrendered to the wild, pristine beauty of the landscape. There are lengthy descriptions of the seasonal return of the penguins and fish and birds and otters and whatnot that signal for the character both the end of the winter (inasmuch as it’s ever not winter in Antarctica) and the return of other living beings into his life. That section was nice; I enjoyed it. Also, it was the only point in the book that felt like it was really taking place in a strange environment—the only time I felt transported to Antarctica.
May 17, 2020
White-Out is as much as an adventure/survival story as it is a book that would fit in the category ecocriticism. I shared the thrill, the pain, the cold, exhaustion and fear with the protagonist and was immediately fascinated by the book.
Marshall, or rather Payne (Marshall is just his pseudonym), has a wonderful and gripping way of bringing Antarctica close to the reader sitting comfortably and warm in his/her reading chair. His narrative technique is full of powerful metaphors, tropes and guiding themes and makes White-Out a worthwhile read with lasting effects. The very end is a bit of a sweeping blow, cramming in the Antarctic Treaty, Research Institutes and contemporary political decisions at all costs, but are only a further marker of Payne’s good intentions.
Marshall, or rather Payne (Marshall is just his pseudonym), has a wonderful and gripping way of bringing Antarctica close to the reader sitting comfortably and warm in his/her reading chair. His narrative technique is full of powerful metaphors, tropes and guiding themes and makes White-Out a worthwhile read with lasting effects. The very end is a bit of a sweeping blow, cramming in the Antarctic Treaty, Research Institutes and contemporary political decisions at all costs, but are only a further marker of Payne’s good intentions.
June 13, 2025
White Out é o relato ficcional de um homem que termina preso na Antártida.
As descrições ambientais são muito bonitas, trazendo toda a maravilha que o personagem sente pelo lugar. As narrativas sobre como ele sobreviveu àquele período também são interessantes, mas a ausência de um contraponto exige uma grande técnica de escrita que infelizmente Marshall não apresentou.
O resultado foi um livro anticlimático que não se segura até o fim, revelando uma fraqueza que termina com um capítulo de avanço no tempo para tentar driblar a queda do fio narrativo.
As descrições ambientais são muito bonitas, trazendo toda a maravilha que o personagem sente pelo lugar. As narrativas sobre como ele sobreviveu àquele período também são interessantes, mas a ausência de um contraponto exige uma grande técnica de escrita que infelizmente Marshall não apresentou.
O resultado foi um livro anticlimático que não se segura até o fim, revelando uma fraqueza que termina com um capítulo de avanço no tempo para tentar driblar a queda do fio narrativo.
October 25, 2008
I've never wanted to go to the Antarctic, too cold, too dark, too much ice. But this tale of a man who survives the Antarctic alone for the winter with only a tent, sleeping bag and the body of his commanding officer, made me appreciate the majesty and beauty of the region.
Displaying 1 - 8 of 8 reviews