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The White Tower
James Ramsey Ullman wrote of the outdoors and its power over men, not only its raw physical power, but its power to awe and inspire.
THE WHITE TOWER is in that vein. A man finds himself once again in a Swiss valley which he had known years before, gazing at a mountain never before climbed from the side on which he now stands. What is he to do with the challenge implicit in that fact?
The story as it develops is not only of his inevitable ascent and its physical rigors, but of the internal dialogue, the meditation, that accompanies it.
"A tale of remarkable vitality, while being served in its telling by a rich fund of special knowledge." (Saturday Review)
479 pages, Hardcover
First published January 1, 1945
3 people are currently reading
121 people want to read
About the author
James Ramsey Ullman
48 books32 followersJames Ramsey Ullman (1907–1971) was an American writer and mountaineer. He was born in New York. He was not a high end climber, but his writing made him an honorary member of that circle. Some of his writing is noted for being "nationalistic," e.g., The White Tower.
The books he wrote were mostly about mountaineering.
His works include Banner in the Sky (which was filmed in Switzerland as Third Man on the Mountain), and The White Tower.
He was the ghost writer for Tenzing Norgay's autobiography Man of Everest (originally published as Tiger of the Snows). High Conquest was the first of nine books for J.B. Lippincott coming out in 1941 followed by The White Tower, River of The Sun, Windom's Way, and Banner in the Sky which was a 1955 Newbery Honor book. All of these titles became major motion pictures.
Ullman also authored John Harlin's biography Straight Up.
He also wrote the short story "Top Man", a story about mountaineers climbing K3, a mountain in India.
Beyond his mountaineering books, he wrote "Where the Bong Tree Grows," an account of a year he spent traveling through some of the most remote islands of the South Pacific.
He joined the American Mount Everest Expedition 1963 as official historian. Because of health problems he had to stay in Kathmandu. The book Americans on Everest: The Official Account of the Ascent was published in 1964.
The books he wrote were mostly about mountaineering.
His works include Banner in the Sky (which was filmed in Switzerland as Third Man on the Mountain), and The White Tower.
He was the ghost writer for Tenzing Norgay's autobiography Man of Everest (originally published as Tiger of the Snows). High Conquest was the first of nine books for J.B. Lippincott coming out in 1941 followed by The White Tower, River of The Sun, Windom's Way, and Banner in the Sky which was a 1955 Newbery Honor book. All of these titles became major motion pictures.
Ullman also authored John Harlin's biography Straight Up.
He also wrote the short story "Top Man", a story about mountaineers climbing K3, a mountain in India.
Beyond his mountaineering books, he wrote "Where the Bong Tree Grows," an account of a year he spent traveling through some of the most remote islands of the South Pacific.
He joined the American Mount Everest Expedition 1963 as official historian. Because of health problems he had to stay in Kathmandu. The book Americans on Everest: The Official Account of the Ascent was published in 1964.
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Displaying 1 - 15 of 15 reviews
January 1, 2019
I bought this after seeing the 1950 movie, which seemed a little wooden; there had to be something more. The book could only be written by an experienced mountain climber, with its detailed descriptions of the climbing process, and the agony, emptiness, and exhilaration that go with it.
'Binks' Ordway is returning from a bombing mission during WWII when his plane is hit by a bomb or anti-aircraft fire - either way, his crew isn't going to make it. Attempting to go as far as he can towards home base, he ends up crashing his plane in neutral Swiss territory - in an amazing coincidence, in the same valley where he spent time in his youth.
There he finds the same people, the same friends, he once knew and loved, and the same mountain he and his friends tried to climb: the White Tower. Still looming before him, and still never successfully climbed by anyone. He, and his his friends - now older, and with a few scars inflicted by life and the war - vow to attempt it again, gathering together experienced climbers to go with them, including a German who may be a Nazi officer.
The book is well written, erudite, and introspective, with the White Tower representing far more than just a mountain, and the climb clearly more to each participant than another check mark on the list of mountains conquered. And you get a firm grasp of what climbing was like back before nylon and polar fleece replaced heavy canvas and wool.
If I have any quibbles, it's the characterizations: the female characters are shallowly drawn compared to the incredible depth we are given into Ordway, and Frenchman Delambres, while Swiss guide Brenner and German Hein are a trifle stereotypical in the author's efforts to convey a message. And the many times that I had to go to GoogleTranslate for the German and French quotes - it's hard to translate out of context. The descriptions of climbing, however, are authentic and compelling, particularly the mental stress endured.
The movie placed the events post war, and starred Glenn Ford as Ordway, Lloyd Bridges as an interesting choice for Hein, Alida Valli as Carla, and Claude Rains as Delambre. Slightly different story and ending; portions were shot in the French Alps.
'Binks' Ordway is returning from a bombing mission during WWII when his plane is hit by a bomb or anti-aircraft fire - either way, his crew isn't going to make it. Attempting to go as far as he can towards home base, he ends up crashing his plane in neutral Swiss territory - in an amazing coincidence, in the same valley where he spent time in his youth.
There he finds the same people, the same friends, he once knew and loved, and the same mountain he and his friends tried to climb: the White Tower. Still looming before him, and still never successfully climbed by anyone. He, and his his friends - now older, and with a few scars inflicted by life and the war - vow to attempt it again, gathering together experienced climbers to go with them, including a German who may be a Nazi officer.
The book is well written, erudite, and introspective, with the White Tower representing far more than just a mountain, and the climb clearly more to each participant than another check mark on the list of mountains conquered. And you get a firm grasp of what climbing was like back before nylon and polar fleece replaced heavy canvas and wool.
If I have any quibbles, it's the characterizations: the female characters are shallowly drawn compared to the incredible depth we are given into Ordway, and Frenchman Delambres, while Swiss guide Brenner and German Hein are a trifle stereotypical in the author's efforts to convey a message. And the many times that I had to go to GoogleTranslate for the German and French quotes - it's hard to translate out of context. The descriptions of climbing, however, are authentic and compelling, particularly the mental stress endured.
The movie placed the events post war, and starred Glenn Ford as Ordway, Lloyd Bridges as an interesting choice for Hein, Alida Valli as Carla, and Claude Rains as Delambre. Slightly different story and ending; portions were shot in the French Alps.
March 14, 2015
This is a deeper more thoughtful "adult" version of "Banner in the Sky" (though "Banner" was one of the more influential books of my childhood, so I don't necessarily think of it as a "child" book, if you get my drift) and on a second read recently, I enjoyed it much more. However, it's not for everyone, but will be a good read to those that are often drawn to the mountains. Mountain lovers will find much that will resonate in their memories.
February 15, 2023
For a long time, I searched for this book and the 1950 film with Glenn Ford, Valli, and Lloyd Bridges that was adapted from it. A month or so ago, I suddenly acquired both. I haven't seen the film in almost 50 years, although I remember it clearly. The book I had never read. Now that I've finished them, they both leave haunting imagery.
First, the book. Ullman's novel is set in October 1944. Because it was published in 1945, much, if not all, must have been written before the end of the war in Europe (May 1945) or in the Pacific (September 1945). And that's important, because even as the story concerns a stricken American bomber that somehow makes it over the border into Switzerland, where its pilot, Martin Ordway, manages to parachute into a remote Swiss village, the ending is still unfinished and unknown. Unbelievably, and magically, it is the same village he had visited some 12 years earlier. There, he meets up with Carla Dehn, a now 27 year old Austrian woman he had known as a teenager. Also there is Andreas Benner, a mountain guide; Nick Radcliffe, a retired British mountaineer who accompanied Mallory to Everest; Paul Delambre, a drunken Frenchman trying to escape from his past and present; and Siegfried Hein, a Gebirgsjäger on leave having barely escaped death on the Russian front. This discordant lot put together a team to climb the Weissturm, a towering mountain heretofore unscaled. Ullman's book mostly devotes itself to this climb, giving us a peak at the fears, hopes, and motivations of all six climbers through a sometimes taxing series of inner monologues and lengthy descriptions.
Somehow, it all managed to hold me to its pages, exhausting as they often were. That is despite the fact that I really don't care for mere mountain stories. Put a mountain in the context of an adventure tale and it's different, such as with The Man Who Would Be King, Talbot Mundy's books about the Himalayas and Tibet, explorations of the Andes looking for El Dorado, or travel books such as Peter Fleming's trips across China's mountains and deserts. In those instances conquering the mountain comes as a consequence of achieving a greater quest. What does merely climbing a mountain tell us? Even Ordway admits at the end that reaching the summit only allows the climber to look on nothingness. Of course, the mountain has a metaphoric function in Ullman's novel--it brings together Carla and Martin and restores their connection to themselves through struggle.
But even that is trite at times. I'm reminded of the mountain films that were such an important genre of German filmmaking during the interwar period. The critic Siegfried Kracauer explained their function as allowing the climber (and the cinema audience along with him) to look down on those who could not conquer the heights. Hein, in White Tower, expresses just such an attitude. But in trying to separate that motivation from the other "democratic" climbers, I think Ullman fails. There just isn't that much difference. Martin and Carla's superior intellectual insight isn't far from Hein's arrogant superior perspective.
What does save this novel, for me, however, is a the long chapter that describes a raging storm on the mountain's upper level. It's captivating and tactile. Ullman, here, reminds me of Conrad's depiction of being caught in a typhoon. People only hold on to their existence by the tiniest of margins. Still, there is yet another significant difference at play, this time between Ullman and Conrad. During the course of his stories, Conrad has the reader looking towards a captain often gone mad or become immobilized during the most critical of moments. For Ullman, the madman Hein, as stated above, is always looking down on the rest of the world. Conrad exhibits madness and its flaws. Ullman threatens the world from above with craziness seemingly the best prepared and in control of all. Something else, too, goes back to the goal of climbing the mountain: just because it's there. With the typhoons, on the other hand, there is purpose to living through them. The are voyages of discovery, of new lands, new people, new civilizations, new trade routes. There is nothing new at the top of the mountain; it only consists of what you know to be there before you ever take your first step on the first slope, cold and empty nothingness.
As I said, there is a film version of the book. Made after the war, it is also set after the war, with Martin Ordway returning to the Swiss village he was interned as a combatant during the war. Hein is an unrepentant Nazi, even continuing to wear his army Bergmütze, with the outline of the Nazi eagle still observable in the stitching. The struggle between values is made much more clearly. Probably a lot to do with the postwar revelations of just how extensive were Nazi atrocities during the war. At any rate, White Tower has evolved as a story. The film is more of an anti-mountain film than the classical mountain film with its allusions to spiritual purity and oneness with nature.
James Ramsey Ullman is something of a lost author, I think. His books are no longer in print. And even the films based upon them are difficult to find. It's unfortunate. He is not a bad stylist. His writing is crisp and flowing. Imagery, whether of the Amazon rainforest, Southeast Asian jungle, or Swiss Alps, is some of the most striking I've encountered. It's what keeps bringing me back to him. Next up: Ullman's novel about the South Pacific, Fia Fia.
First, the book. Ullman's novel is set in October 1944. Because it was published in 1945, much, if not all, must have been written before the end of the war in Europe (May 1945) or in the Pacific (September 1945). And that's important, because even as the story concerns a stricken American bomber that somehow makes it over the border into Switzerland, where its pilot, Martin Ordway, manages to parachute into a remote Swiss village, the ending is still unfinished and unknown. Unbelievably, and magically, it is the same village he had visited some 12 years earlier. There, he meets up with Carla Dehn, a now 27 year old Austrian woman he had known as a teenager. Also there is Andreas Benner, a mountain guide; Nick Radcliffe, a retired British mountaineer who accompanied Mallory to Everest; Paul Delambre, a drunken Frenchman trying to escape from his past and present; and Siegfried Hein, a Gebirgsjäger on leave having barely escaped death on the Russian front. This discordant lot put together a team to climb the Weissturm, a towering mountain heretofore unscaled. Ullman's book mostly devotes itself to this climb, giving us a peak at the fears, hopes, and motivations of all six climbers through a sometimes taxing series of inner monologues and lengthy descriptions.
Somehow, it all managed to hold me to its pages, exhausting as they often were. That is despite the fact that I really don't care for mere mountain stories. Put a mountain in the context of an adventure tale and it's different, such as with The Man Who Would Be King, Talbot Mundy's books about the Himalayas and Tibet, explorations of the Andes looking for El Dorado, or travel books such as Peter Fleming's trips across China's mountains and deserts. In those instances conquering the mountain comes as a consequence of achieving a greater quest. What does merely climbing a mountain tell us? Even Ordway admits at the end that reaching the summit only allows the climber to look on nothingness. Of course, the mountain has a metaphoric function in Ullman's novel--it brings together Carla and Martin and restores their connection to themselves through struggle.
But even that is trite at times. I'm reminded of the mountain films that were such an important genre of German filmmaking during the interwar period. The critic Siegfried Kracauer explained their function as allowing the climber (and the cinema audience along with him) to look down on those who could not conquer the heights. Hein, in White Tower, expresses just such an attitude. But in trying to separate that motivation from the other "democratic" climbers, I think Ullman fails. There just isn't that much difference. Martin and Carla's superior intellectual insight isn't far from Hein's arrogant superior perspective.
What does save this novel, for me, however, is a the long chapter that describes a raging storm on the mountain's upper level. It's captivating and tactile. Ullman, here, reminds me of Conrad's depiction of being caught in a typhoon. People only hold on to their existence by the tiniest of margins. Still, there is yet another significant difference at play, this time between Ullman and Conrad. During the course of his stories, Conrad has the reader looking towards a captain often gone mad or become immobilized during the most critical of moments. For Ullman, the madman Hein, as stated above, is always looking down on the rest of the world. Conrad exhibits madness and its flaws. Ullman threatens the world from above with craziness seemingly the best prepared and in control of all. Something else, too, goes back to the goal of climbing the mountain: just because it's there. With the typhoons, on the other hand, there is purpose to living through them. The are voyages of discovery, of new lands, new people, new civilizations, new trade routes. There is nothing new at the top of the mountain; it only consists of what you know to be there before you ever take your first step on the first slope, cold and empty nothingness.
As I said, there is a film version of the book. Made after the war, it is also set after the war, with Martin Ordway returning to the Swiss village he was interned as a combatant during the war. Hein is an unrepentant Nazi, even continuing to wear his army Bergmütze, with the outline of the Nazi eagle still observable in the stitching. The struggle between values is made much more clearly. Probably a lot to do with the postwar revelations of just how extensive were Nazi atrocities during the war. At any rate, White Tower has evolved as a story. The film is more of an anti-mountain film than the classical mountain film with its allusions to spiritual purity and oneness with nature.
James Ramsey Ullman is something of a lost author, I think. His books are no longer in print. And even the films based upon them are difficult to find. It's unfortunate. He is not a bad stylist. His writing is crisp and flowing. Imagery, whether of the Amazon rainforest, Southeast Asian jungle, or Swiss Alps, is some of the most striking I've encountered. It's what keeps bringing me back to him. Next up: Ullman's novel about the South Pacific, Fia Fia.
March 27, 2024
World War II slogs on but this story takes place in the peaceful and neutral country of Switzerland. Through various reasons a player from each of the teams - German, American, French, English and Austrian - ends up at a small mountain resort. They all decide to, for the moment, leave the war outside and band together to try and conquer a mountain known as The White Tower. Some readers will probably appreciate how author James Ramsey Ullman takes the time to craft each of the characters and give everyone a back story. I was the kid in the backseat whining, "Are we there yet? Where's the mountain? Get to the mountain already."
Now I want to talk about the physical book. I got my copy from a used book site and I believe it is this actual edition. I didn't know this (as I don't have many if any books printed from this time) but because of the war and shortage of paper, hardback books like these were smaller in size than usual.
There's also an inscription: To Grandpa Shaw on his 89th birthday - Nov. 9, 1945
I must take care of this book.
Now I want to talk about the physical book. I got my copy from a used book site and I believe it is this actual edition. I didn't know this (as I don't have many if any books printed from this time) but because of the war and shortage of paper, hardback books like these were smaller in size than usual.
There's also an inscription: To Grandpa Shaw on his 89th birthday - Nov. 9, 1945
I must take care of this book.
June 19, 2018
Pretty good mountaineering novel. He also wrote Banner in the Sky which became a Disney film.
July 9, 2019
October 1944 about a downed American pilot who climbs a mountain in the Swiss Alps with a German officer, Austrian girlfriend, French and British professors and a Swiss guide
December 26, 2019
I suspect writing a long novel that focuses on climbing one mountain must be a little difficult. As exciting as mountain climbing is for mountaineers, describing the step by step progress without loosing the interest of a modern reader must be pretty tough to do. I think Ullman is a great master of succeeding in this challenge, and thus the reason why he was and is so highly regarded in climbing circles that are familiar with his work (apparently when he passed his obituaries appeared in climbing magazines as well as newspapers). In retrospect, this novel is a great window into some of the details of how mountaineering was conducted at the tail end of mountaineering's silver age, and shows off Ullman's knowledge as well as his fine wordsmithing.
That's all well and good, but there is one major point I'd like to make that I haven't seen in the other reviews, and perhaps this jumped out at me more because I saw the film version (which places the story just AFTER WWII) before I read the book. Until I reached the last chapter, I saw the War (the story in the book takes place late in WWII) as simply backdrop or a device to flesh out Martin's character as a burned out veteran and Hein's character as the villainous Nazi. When I reached the last chapter, however, I realized I was wrong. I think Ullman was trying to teach us something about mountaineering as well as fighting a war. Why do we climb mountains? Why do we fight wars? Why do we do things that we know may lead to our demise, especially if, at times, they seem utterly pointless? Where do we find the will to carry on in these endeavors, when they are at their darkest and the gallant rationale that sustained us at the outset has vanished in the mists? What makes us fail in our attempts and what corrupts our quests? If you look at each individual in the party, and I think Ullman's brilliance is clearly seen here, you see these rationales develop and later succeed or fail. Hein is a very good example. Here is the commitment to struggle against adversity corrupted by the need to feel superior to the environment and other people.
I still enjoy watching the film, but it pails in comparison to the book. It fails not only in the detail, but I think the film makers, trying to make the film more marketable, lost a tremendous mount of what makes the story of value, when they gave the film a more marketable ending. (By the way, for those interested, judging from stills I've seen on the internet, there appears to be a significant scene located at a climbing hut that must have been cut from the final version of the film. If anyone discovers where that cut scene might still exist, please let me know!!!)
So, I don't want to give away the ending, but give the book its due. Enjoy a tremendous mountaineering novel, but pay close attention to the justifications of each individual climber (and particularly the Mallory of Everest fame references), and make sure you spend some time with the last chapter; its parallels between climbing the White Tower and fighting a war, which at the time of the novel's writing seemed to be never ending, elevate this novel to the literary summits. Whether you agree with Ullman's perspective or not, I think you'll agree that it is a perspective that is powerful, underappreciated, not often illuminated with such skill, and worth every page.
That's all well and good, but there is one major point I'd like to make that I haven't seen in the other reviews, and perhaps this jumped out at me more because I saw the film version (which places the story just AFTER WWII) before I read the book. Until I reached the last chapter, I saw the War (the story in the book takes place late in WWII) as simply backdrop or a device to flesh out Martin's character as a burned out veteran and Hein's character as the villainous Nazi. When I reached the last chapter, however, I realized I was wrong. I think Ullman was trying to teach us something about mountaineering as well as fighting a war. Why do we climb mountains? Why do we fight wars? Why do we do things that we know may lead to our demise, especially if, at times, they seem utterly pointless? Where do we find the will to carry on in these endeavors, when they are at their darkest and the gallant rationale that sustained us at the outset has vanished in the mists? What makes us fail in our attempts and what corrupts our quests? If you look at each individual in the party, and I think Ullman's brilliance is clearly seen here, you see these rationales develop and later succeed or fail. Hein is a very good example. Here is the commitment to struggle against adversity corrupted by the need to feel superior to the environment and other people.
I still enjoy watching the film, but it pails in comparison to the book. It fails not only in the detail, but I think the film makers, trying to make the film more marketable, lost a tremendous mount of what makes the story of value, when they gave the film a more marketable ending. (By the way, for those interested, judging from stills I've seen on the internet, there appears to be a significant scene located at a climbing hut that must have been cut from the final version of the film. If anyone discovers where that cut scene might still exist, please let me know!!!)
So, I don't want to give away the ending, but give the book its due. Enjoy a tremendous mountaineering novel, but pay close attention to the justifications of each individual climber (and particularly the Mallory of Everest fame references), and make sure you spend some time with the last chapter; its parallels between climbing the White Tower and fighting a war, which at the time of the novel's writing seemed to be never ending, elevate this novel to the literary summits. Whether you agree with Ullman's perspective or not, I think you'll agree that it is a perspective that is powerful, underappreciated, not often illuminated with such skill, and worth every page.
January 31, 2016
Martín Ordway es un piloto estadounidense en servicio durante la Segunda Guerra Mundial. Víctima de un ataque, cae en una localidad suiza que ya había conocido en el tiempo anterior a la guerra. Aquí se reencuentra con antiguos conocidos y con un viejo anhelo: escalar el imponente macizo conocido como la Torre Blanca.
Este libro es fundamentalmente el ascenso a una montaña. Pero es mucho más que eso. Es el viaje interior de cada personaje, que carga con sus propios miedos y traumas. Es una historia de amor. Pero por sobre todo es un retrato de lo que la guerra significó para toda una generación. Me encantó la narración, y estoy segura de que los amantes de las citas que lo lean tendrán material de sobra. El autor logra transmitir tanto la interioridad de sus personajes como los bellos paisajes que sirven de escenario a la obra. La ascensión es sumamente detallada, lo que puede resultar algo pesado para los que no son aficionados al montañismo, pero el libro en su conjunto vale el esfuerzo. A veces el autor peca de chauvinista, pero considerando que la obra se publicó en 1945 creo que no se puede esperar otra cosa.
Este libro es fundamentalmente el ascenso a una montaña. Pero es mucho más que eso. Es el viaje interior de cada personaje, que carga con sus propios miedos y traumas. Es una historia de amor. Pero por sobre todo es un retrato de lo que la guerra significó para toda una generación. Me encantó la narración, y estoy segura de que los amantes de las citas que lo lean tendrán material de sobra. El autor logra transmitir tanto la interioridad de sus personajes como los bellos paisajes que sirven de escenario a la obra. La ascensión es sumamente detallada, lo que puede resultar algo pesado para los que no son aficionados al montañismo, pero el libro en su conjunto vale el esfuerzo. A veces el autor peca de chauvinista, pero considerando que la obra se publicó en 1945 creo que no se puede esperar otra cosa.
June 2, 2016
An enthralling work of mountaineering fiction. I enjoyed this book while I was reading it but it wasn't until after I had completed it that I truly came to appreciate just how good it was. I thought about all the nuances and layers to the story, the symbolism that everyone has their own 'White Tower' in their life to conquer and how it can be consuming at times, how it can make someone a better person or be their downfall in the end.
July 3, 2009
A pretty much forgotten popular novel of the 40s, but good. A downed American flyer and a Wermacht officer on leave in Switzerland join forces to climb an unclimbable peak.
This is way before Sir Edmund Hillary conquered Everest, so George ("because it is there") Mallory is still the standard against whom climbers measure themselves.
This is way before Sir Edmund Hillary conquered Everest, so George ("because it is there") Mallory is still the standard against whom climbers measure themselves.
January 5, 2017
This is a good book. There is also a movie (which is not too bad) starring Glenn Ford, Claude Raines, and Loyd Bridges. I know this because I read this book on vacation and the day after I got back I watched the movie on AMC. This book is much better than "And Not to Yield" by the same author.
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June 14, 2007Another book about mountain climbing and the perils entailed. I just remember that this book was more for adults than children.
November 6, 2013
An interesting, well written climbing book, with an international team trying to conquer the White Tower of the title at a time of War
February 11, 2014
Beautiful, exquisite descriptions.
April 4, 2016
Must have read as high school assignment- have no recollection beyond listing in 1964 diary indicating 2+ stars.
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