I had no prior knowledge of Ben Fogle before tackling this highly personalized mountaineering adventure/self discovery tome, so was unaware of his notoriety as a British TV adventure/reality star, environmentalist, activist and advocate for the Red Cross. When he tackled Mount Everest in 2018 I was not following him on social media as he worked through his novice fumbles, physical insufficiency and nearly crippling self doubts. All in all, he seems a decent sort of chap, a family-centric guy with a good heart and head on his shoulders.
As Fogle relates this tale of preparing for, and succeeding at, his climb of the great peak, the book alternates between his own narrative of the adventure with that of his wife, Marina, who was hunkering down in London a continent away with the couple's children, wondering at any given time with obvious angst about whether her spouse was all right, injured, or dead. This dual perspective lends an air of old-school British stiff-upper-lipdom, something like Captain Scott's letters to his wife in England as he was trying to reach the South Pole. Fogle also tells us, quite often, that the recent death of his stillborn son was one of the motivators driving him to this life-affirming adventure dream. Everest had enthralled him since childhood.
So, the deal is this: I'm not going to spend much time on the review. I love mountaineering adventure books, and tend to like them best when they stick to the adventure, when they're vividly detailed about the fauna of the places, the rudiments and challenges of the climbs, the cameraderie and rivalries of the crews, and -- within reason -- the climber's philosophical thoughts on why humans do these things. Ben does a mostly pedestrian job at hitting these marks, occasionally offering some engaging episodes -- such as harrowing crossings of deep crevasses on wobbly ladder bridges at night, or cowering in mortal fear waiting out an explosive thunderstorm while literally inside the storm cloud. But the way he integrates the self-confessional material, the family backstories, and the seemingly endless litany of "making a difference" and "follow your dream"-style Hallmark Card affirmation cliches just seemed clunky and platitudinous, even cringey. Overall, this was, for me, a mostly frustrating and exasperating account. You could probably make this a group read at the normie Republican women's book and tea club social and everybody would be happy with it, apart from the unexpected swipe Marina takes at Trump, which, even as much as I hate the guy, probably should have been edited out.
About 20 percent of this was worth reading, so two stars out of five seems fair.
EG/KR@KY 2021