Has Reinhold Messner climbed one too many mountains?
The man who could arguably lay claim as the greatest of mountaineers - at least in the modern era - offers a slightly different view of his highland exploits in MY QUEST FOR THE YETI.
As the first person to scale all the world's 8000m peaks, Messner immortalised himself in climbing history. Unfortunately, he is better known outside such circles for daring to tell the world he stumbled across a creature known to the Western world as a Yeti in 1986.
Messner came across the creature on a solo climb that year, and made the mistake of telling the story of his encounter at a press conference in India.
``The news of my conquering the last two of the 14 eight-thousanders was lost among yeti hysteria, jeering comments, and absurd speculation,'' he laments.
He even became something of a joke in his Austrian homeland, but now, 16 years later, Messner seems determined to clarify his position once and for all.
But was it a Yeti, or actually a type of highly-intelligent bear known to the Tibetan natives as the chemo?
He asks the question early in the piece, but his inability to clearly express his line of reasoning for the remainder of the books makes for frustrating, and at times boring reading.
It does not help his case that the chemo itself is yet to be scientifically classified, or even proven to exist.
Messner is obviously no scientist, and the quantum leaps of logic that he makes to prove his claim often leave the reader more inclined to believe the Yeti theory.
However, it does not make MY QUEST FOR THE YETI an unworthy read.
Few Westerners know more about Tibetan culture and landscape than Messner, and, perhaps inadvertently, his latest book provides an engaging window through which to view it.
His battle to travel through Tibet undetected by Chinese officials, helped by a number of old friends in towns and nomadic enclaves, often contrasts starkly with what is obviously a stunning backdrop, both physical and spiritual.
Like Messner, the reader keeps one eye on the road for trouble, and the other wide open in wonder at the setting.
He also peppers the book with intriguing historical accounts of Yeti sightings _ more than enough ``facts'' to keep the myth alive, albeit it at the expense of Messner's bear theory.
Still, this remains the self-indulgent work of a somewhat righteous and often annoyingly conceited man who should stick to doing what he does better than anyone else in his field - climbing big rocks.

Messner, probably the greatest climber in history (e.g. climbing Everest solo without Oxygen) tells the story of his search for an explanation governing the so-called Yeti or Abominable Snowman of the Himalayas. It all started with his attempt to retread the steps of the ancient cultural treks of the Tibetan people. On the way he meets, in a moonlit forest, a dark form with great nightvision and the ability to move very quietly and with great speed through the undergrowth. Messner's description of his encounter is simply superb, so gripping and personal it must be real. One is left in no doubt at all that he has met a creature of unknown origin who moves in an upright position much like a man and makes unusual whistling sounds.

Messner, so gripped by his phenomenal encounter is driven to find out more of this enigmatic being, which he considers to be the mythical Yeti of Himalayan fame. It is the case that the first description of this meeting is the most important part of the book, it being a powerful experience beyond any other abstractions he undertakes in the remainder of the book. Over some ten years and much searching as well as research and the retelling of the experiences of Tibetans he meets, Messner comes to the conclusion that the Yeti and the Chemo are the same beast, an unusual and rare kind of Tibetan bear. Although most of the book is taken up with descriptions from history of Yeti encounters, and the denial of the possibility that the Yeti is anthropoid in nature, he fails to completely convince in his definitive statement that all of the mythical creatures of Tibetan legend used to describe such incidents e.g. Yeti, Chemo, Dremo etc are the same being. I felt his conclusion to be a little hurried. Although there must be no doubt that his observation of the Chemo is a bear this does not mean that the Yeti, as such, is also a bear. It is doubtful that a bear can spend so much time walking upright as a Yeti has been known to do and that his footprints do not show claws which are the hallmarks of a bear. Nonetheless Messner convinces in the fact that at least some common encounters must be bear encounters with a very real, but rarely seen, kind of Tibetan bear.

I bought this book with some high hopes. I have read Messners mountaineering books and enjoyed them. Too bad this wasn't as well written.

He spends a lot of time contradicting himself and trying to convince the reader that evidence that obviously does not conform to bear sightings, does in fact, prove that the Yeti is some form of rarely sighted bear. In addition he drops in many smug and to my mind, conceited asides on the inadequacies of every investigator before his exalted self.

The photos of tracks he includes ARE obviously bear tracks - so the conclusion I would draw is that he saw a bear and not a Yeti, and probably should have written a book about being scared of a Tibetan bear.

He seems utterly convinced though, all evidence to the contrary, that he has solved the mystery.

So, it is a quick read, not particularly well written and more concerned with bragging about his adventures sneaking around in Chinese controlled areas illegally than it is a serious book about solving the Yeti enigma.

I used to be a fan of this writer, until I realized that almost all of his climbing stories follow exactly the same theme: He climbs; he messes up; he relies on others to get him down; he then rags on the ones who saved him. I guess it was funny first time around, when he was rescued on Everest. After round three, having put so many of his recuers at needless risk and then being so ungracious towards them, I kind of thought he had lost his right to climb (not to mention his right to be rescued). Unfortunately, he drones on in this book, a kind of "worst of" compilation of his previous writings. Nothing new here, unfortunately. I'm waiting for the "Stephen Venables Grows Up" story. That said, there are still good, though negative lessons in this book, and given the short chapters, less chance for him to navle-gaze too much, which was a major weakness in his previous books.

The first half of this book was more interesting for me -- the expedition to Kishtware Shivling was self-contained and the author was able to convey more of a sense of place and spirit. The second half settles down to more of slow, plodding pace. There are no great revelations; it is almost as if the famed British 'reserve' seems to come into play. The writing itself doesn't have the same spirit or liveliness that other writers bring to the genre of mountaineering books; that is, less of the climbers' actual personalities are conveyed than in other books. Unlike some of the best books, there are few spots in this book where the tension and pressures of climbing become self-evident in the writing and the expressed drama between the climbers. That said, there were parts of the book that were very rewarding and enjoyable to read such as the elaborate details given on the hike into the mountains gave me a better perspective on the geography rather than just observation of details. In short, this not a bad book by any stretch of the definition -- it's just not a great one.

The first part of this book focuses on Venables' and Dick Renshaw's summit of Kishtwar-Shivling, a then unclimbed 6000 meter peak in the Himalaya. Venables is a capable author and conveys a sense of adventure that books of this type often lack. He understates the danger they faced on the mountain, particularly after their summit climb. The second half of the book deals with the Alpine Club's climbing in the Eastern Karakoram. Venables did make a mistake and he certainly expressed his sense of embarrassment at his blunder (I don't want to spoil the book for those who haven't read it). Venables does not "rag on the ones who saved him." This book is a nice change of pace, as it focuses on basically unknown mountains.

This book represents how far we've dropped visually as a culture. Especially when there exists books out there, self published, like David Robbins "Himalayan Odyssey" that capture true insight into the Tibetan culture over a long, rigourous time and method. Instead, we're once again merely given more of the same pretty landscapes and fuzzy warm children that any passing tourist with a good working knowledge of their camera could do. Art is (was?) a wonderful person, I'm sure, though a mediocre photographer at best. Check out David's book for the real deal. I am a published photographer myself, albeit in a totally different genre.

This book has plenty of the stunning landscape and nature photos I expect from Art Wolfe. It's a most dramatic scenery, and Wolfe's images capture that aspect beautifully. Three short "conversations" with noted climbers help animate the high peaks. Wolfe also includes technical/field notes for each photo. What is wonderfully surprising to me is the light that Wolfe finds in the eyes of the people of the Himalaya. There must be something to the altitude, or maybe the benefit of living a life inextricably tied to the landscape. These people look happy, at peace with themselves, and that's the feeling that resonates with me long after I put the book down.

There are certainly many books now available about travel and experences in the Himalayan region and I have read a number of them . With out a doubt ,this book resides in a place of it's own. In all honesty, it was far too painful to even finish .

The book is an excellent summary of Nepal and the exciting treks and experiences one can enjoy while traveling through this fascinating country.

Because if you do, you'll enjoy Keay's quips. But they're lodged in, at least in this edition, tightly packed small print. Keay packs in quite a bit of information, though it is difficult through the first 100 pages or so as you drill yourself in the names of tribes, leaders and geography. Though he follows explorers, they all were entangled in the Great Game between Russia and Britain (and to a lesser extent, China). It doesn't touch so much on Afghan history, to those looking to learn more of their history. Primarily it focuses on Dardistan, the Jammu Kashmir region and the Hindu Kush, Gilgit being a British base of operations for these tribal regions north of India. These Dr. Livingstone/Mata Hari mountaineers and military men all have distinct personalities, brought out by Keay's exhaustive writing. He draws on a great deal of primary source reading, including from a couple of extremely prolific writers who strove to become the reigning experts on the region. They belonged to a small elite club of Europeans who braved dangerous routes in a foreign land for glory, conquest and thrills.

Donna Sherpa begins her book on Sherpa culture by telling us that it is not a dissertation. That turns out to be quite true, with both good and bad results! This book is a personal story of one American woman's relationship with her Sherpa husband, and through him a curious understanding of Sherpa culture as a whole.

The book is really a diary and travel story, full of pleasant anecdotes about the author's beloved husband and his relatives. However, there are a number of factual errors and incomplete tables which reveal that the author has not done her Sherpa culture homework! Nepali language words are labelled as Sherpa, and both Nepali and Sherpa words are transliterated incorrectly.

Although language and meaning errors are probably the result of Mrs. Sherpa's primary informant (her husband) being very partially educated, it is also a sign of poor fact-checking.

I would recommend Mrs. Sherpa's book as an entertaining light read for Americans who are interested in one woman's view of Nepal and Sherpa culture, but for factual correctness see Sherry Ortner's or James Fisher's well-researched (and very readable) Sherpa books.

The circumstances attending the disastrous campaign that followed the Chinese invasion of India's Himalayan borders have never been clearly understood. Even today, some. three decades after the ceasefire of November 1962, very little official information has been made available to the public or the press about that brief but traumatic episode.

The present menoir is therefore all the more welcome, not only because it comes from the pen of one who is an established writer and commentator on military affairs but also because, as Director of Military Operations at Army Headquarters during that fateful period, he both witnessed and took part in the processes, through which government policies were formulated and the decision taken to go to war against the Chinese, in circumstances that must have indicated inevitable catastrophe.

General Palit describes with refreshing candour the ad hoc nature of the decisionmaking apparatus at prime ministerial and cabinet levels, the lack of any samblance of coordinated staff analyses, the over-reach of government into the responsibilities of the military, and the quiescence of the latter in permitting it. He is uninhibited in recording facts as he saw them and the opinions he held at the time, though always careful to distinguish between that and hind-sight rationalization. While commenting on the actions of others the author is also frankly and disarmingly self-critical.

This is a coffee-table book for climber wannabe's who might want to pretend they're going to climb some of the great ridges of the Himalaya. Most of the photos are pretty good, but the maps are sloppily drawn, and the writing style is about as bone dry as you can get--it's hard to make routes on the overwhelming ridges and cols of the high Himalayas look and sound dull, but by God, the authors really managed to do it. Then again, the authors haven't had much success on these climbs themselves--[...]--clinical studies of passionate endeavors untainted by personal expertise. I am dumbfounded that a couple of reviewers claimed to love this book, but then again, some people also claim to love year-old fruit cake.

Yet another coffee-table book on climbing the Himalayas, this time with a purported "Alpine-Style" aesthetic binding it all together. Unfortunately, many of the photos tend to be a bit amaturish, the writing uninteresting, which is saying alot given the fascinating subject matter the authors had to deal with. The gung-ho climbing aesthetic is also questionable, given the authors' own backgrounds. Plenty of other excellent coffee-table books have been written about climbing the pristine parts of the high Himalaya, in terms of photo quality and relevance, this one doesn't really compete.

Unfortunately, recent reviewers have focused more on the achievments of the authors themselves than what has been written in the book.

It is a great book with loads of info on many different great routes done in the only proper style, i.e. alpine style. There are many references to the original articles, if you ever plan to have some expeditions to the area described in the book, as well as more general references to books of the first ascents of the mountains described and it that respect very resourceful.

Also, I think it is one of the virtues that the book is not written in an overpassionate, and boosting manner as most autobiographic books, but rather describes in a very admiring way the great achievments of extreme alpinism in the Himalaya.

If you want to know more about the greatest achievments in Alpine climbing in recent years this book does give you a great overview of some of the most facinating (and craziest) climbs.

I agree that some of the maps are not very good and that there could have been more depth in the description of the climbs, but the references should help someone wanting some more info.

Worst book ever on the subject. The author has no clue what Buddhism is. I doubt if she's even been here in this part of the world. -Sidhartha

Writers who paint one side of the coin are a bane to the world. Governments records and things as they seem do not make a truth. No body, I repeat, nobody can write the true story about Bhutan if he/she has not been a Bhutanese for entire life. Crossette does not know and will never know the atrocities perpretated by the compassionate "Buddhist King" of Bhutan. She will never know how my fatehr was hung upside down and beaten for not being obedient to the compassionate King. She will never know the fear psychosis of the Bhutanese regime that is strangling itself. Bhutan, the land is beautiful and exotic otherwise I would not be wasting my time telling you it is. The captivating landscape and the mystic religion is a blanket under which tortures and rapes went on, whoile some journalists and historians lost themselves in the myth of the oxymoron, "democratic monarchy". The other side would have blamed Barbara if she had been objective and sensitive to the facts. I blame her because I do not beleive that a minority trhat is seized by fear losing power will be justified to kill. Anyway, Kudos to barbara for the effort. The next book on Bhutan will be written by an author who will have the freedom to see Bhutan freely.

The title indicates the book is about Himalayan Buddhism. While small portions are devoted to the Buddhists of Kashmir, Nepal, and Sikkim, the majority of the book is about Bhutan, because it's the last remaining Buddhist monarchy of the Himalayan region. This is not a travel narrative; instead, the material is arranged by topic. It's comprehensive and pleasant to read. It's shortcoming is the author's unabashed bias in favor of the Bhutanese monarchy, despite its dubious record of human rights toward the Hindu minority. Crossette admits she received favored treatment from the king, and it shows. Likewise, she sides with the (now deposed) monarchy of Sikkim. The bias is so transparently obvious, I didn't feel I had been conned, but one expects greater balance from a correspondent of The New York Times.

I was looking forward to reading this book, as some of Venable's previous books have been pretty funny. Somewhere along the line, he seems to have lost his sense of humor, and without that, this story of his misadventures up high reads hollow and rather sad. If you're going to mess up while climbing with a team, and need to get rescued all the time (the other reviewers are right;Venables seems to have created a genre for his own "help, save me!" tales on mountains)you better be funny about it. However, this book is far too serious and self-righteous for its own good. In fact it reads more like a teenager's diary than a climbing tale--right down to the nasty things Venables prints about the very people who rescued him! The 300-foot fall in the beginning is the only interesting part in the whole book, and then it's literally, downhill from there. I'm sorry to say that this book reveals the author as more of a poor sport and poor writer than his previous books.

As I read Stephen Venables story of folly in the remote Himalayas I couldn't but help feel a certain contempt, if not sadness at the decline of British mountaineering. From Edward Whymper to Sir Christopher Bonington (a far better climber than Venables who nevertheless gets stabbed in the back by the author after he saved his life) the British climbing establishment was world renowned for good sportsmanship, positive attitude, and grace under pressure. Now, British alpinism seems to have been taken over, like so many other things in British society, by a yob mentality. This book is a case in point: It would not have been too long ago that a similar collection of whiney tales of questionable heroism where one's own mistakes are palmed off on one's teammates would have been met with scorn from the fair-minded British climbing establishment. No longer. This book actually got decent reviews in some UK climbing magazines (though, to be sure, a few "outed" Venable's inconsistencies with the facts). Future climbing historians, when examining how Britain ceded its leadership role in mountaineering, will be tempted to cite Venable's contemptible attempt at self-glorification by denigrating other climbers and celebrating his own mountaineering foibles as a milestone in poor attitude and even poorer taste.

On one level 'A Slender Thread: Escaping Disaster in the Himalayas' is a standard mountain expedition book, with the focus on Steven Venables' own experience. But throughout there is a dark undercurrent of premonition and doubt. Venables has a bad feeling about the expedition from the start : "there was a sense of unease, even doom when I set off for India". There is also a sense of futility, that the golden age of mountain exploration is long past, as he implicitly compares past expeditions to the area (the Panch Chuli group near the border of India and Nepal) with the one he is on. Gone is the conviction of purpose and the "gentlemanly camaraderie" of earlier times. In fact Venables shows himself to be anything but gentlemanly on this trip. Often out of sorts, half-wishing he were back home with his wife and child, Venables indulges in tantrums and verbally attacks Chris Bonington, the team leader, when Bonington suggests retreat..

As for the accident, it is the breaking of the Slender Thread that all mountaineers depend on at many time during a climb. A well-tested anchor pulls out below the top of Panch Chuli V, sending Venables on a steep fall that breaks both his legs and which he is lucky just to survive. This combination of bad and good luck, and his utter dependence on his companions for making it down the mountain, is the real story of this expedition for Venables as he recognizes that in climbing he is gambling with more than just his own life.

This is my least favorite of the three book by Venables I've read, though I did enjoy it. There is little of the excitement and freshness of 'Painted Mountains' or the combination of great accomplishment and fascinating route finding in 'Everest: Alone at the Summit'. However, it raises troubling questions about mountain climbing and faces them directly, and these questions, along with the detailed description of a remote and rarely climbed range, make this a book worth reading.