**#1 NATIONAL BESTSELLER - The epic account of the storm on the summit
of Mt. Everest that claimed five lives and left countless
more--including Krakauer's--in guilt-ridden disarray.
**
"A harrowing tale of the perils of high-altitude climbing, a story of
bad luck and worse judgment and of heartbreaking heroism." --PEOPLE
A bank of clouds was assembling on the not-so-distant horizon, but
journalist-mountaineer Jon Krakauer, standing on the summit of Mt.
Everest, saw nothing that "suggested that a murderous storm was bearing
down." He was wrong.
By writing Into Thin Air, Krakauer may have hoped to exorcise some of
his own demons and lay to rest some of the painful questions that still
surround the event. He takes great pains to provide a balanced picture
of the people and events he witnessed and gives due credit to the
tireless and dedicated Sherpas. He also avoids blasting easy targets
such as Sandy Pittman, the wealthy socialite who brought an espresso
maker along on the expedition. Krakauer's highly personal inquiry into
the catastrophe provides a great deal of insight into what went wrong.
But for Krakauer himself, further interviews and investigations only
lead him to the conclusion that his perceived failures were directly
responsible for a fellow climber's death. Clearly, Krakauer remains
haunted by the disaster, and although he relates a number of incidents
in which he acted selflessly and even heroically, he seems unable to
view those instances objectively. In the end, despite his evenhanded and
even generous assessment of others' actions, he reserves a full measure
of vitriol for himself.
This updated trade paperback edition of Into Thin Air includes an
extensive new postscript that sheds fascinating light on the acrimonious
debate that flared between Krakauer and Everest guide Anatoli Boukreev
in the wake of the tragedy. "I have no doubt that Boukreev's intentions
were good on summit day," writes Krakauer in the postscript, dated
August 1999. "What disturbs me, though, was Boukreev's refusal to
acknowledge the possibility that he made even a single poor decision.
Never did he indicate that perhaps it wasn't the best choice to climb
without gas or go down ahead of his clients." As usual, Krakauer
supports his points with dogged research and a good dose of humility.
But rather than continue the heated discourse that has raged since Into
Thin Air's denouncement of guide Boukreev, Krakauer's tone is
conciliatory; he points most of his criticism at G. Weston De Walt, who
coauthored The Climb, Boukreev's version of events. And in a touching
conclusion, Krakauer recounts his last conversation with the late
Boukreev, in which the two weathered climbers agreed to disagree about
certain points. Krakauer had great hopes to patch things up with
Boukreev, but the Russian later died in an avalanche on another
Himalayan peak, Annapurna I.
In 1999, Krakauer received an Academy Award in Literature from the
American Academy of Arts and Letters--a prestigious prize intended "to
honor writers of exceptional accomplishment." According to the Academy's
citation, "Krakauer combines the tenacity and courage of the finest
tradition of investigative journalism with the stylish subtlety and
profound insight of the born writer. His account of an ascent of Mount
Everest has led to a general reevaluation of climbing and of the
commercialization of what was once a romantic, solitary sport; while his
account of the life and death of Christopher McCandless, who died of
starvation after challenging the Alaskan wilderness, delves even more
deeply and disturbingly into the fascination of nature and the
devastating effects of its lure on a young and curious mind."
