Review by SpencerVo -- The Altitude Journals
Posted: 12 Oct 2018, 10:38
[Following is a volunteer review of "The Altitude Journals" by David J Mauro.]

4 out of 4 stars
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I set out to read this book with the expectation of an adrenaline-inducing adventure, magnetic landscape and a sense of victory over altitude. Instead, I got a down-to-earth, even grim account from a white man in his midlife crisis, hoping to climb not for the love of mountains but to battle his lifelong demons. As unflattering as this may sound, I was not let down. At first confused and surprised, yes, but this book came out to be a more worthwhile adventure compared to my original assumption.
The Altitude Journals documented David Mauro’s journey from a clueless mountaineering rookie to a proud conqueror of the Seven Summits: Denali (North America), Kilimanjaro (Africa), Elbrus (Europe), Aconcagua (South America), Vinson Massif (Antarctica), Carstensz Pyramid (Australia) and of course, “Mother Goddess of the Universe” Mount Everest (Asia). Each one presented different struggles: life-threatening avalanches, deep crevasses, deadly altitude sickness, or worst, chances of falling victim to cannibalism. To the public, Mauro’s diary felt too real and too surreal at the same time: how could a nearly fifty-year-old man achieve such an extraordinary yet dangerous feat? On the flip side, we could relate to his experience, not because we had climbed before, but since we all knew the sense of dread and insecurity lurking over our lives.
The first appeal of the book came from the realistic and meticulous narration of the climbing process, nothing too far-fetched or too poetic. No details were too small or uninteresting: the grueling physical training, expensive equipment, inevitable dangers. Even the mundane camp etiquette and the private “plumbing” problem were not spared. Technical terms were broken down into simple phrases so that a novice could easily understand. As a result, The Altitude Journals can loosely serve as a “Mountaineering for Dummies” guide if you are interested in the sport. Yet this book was not a list of dry descriptions: it depicted Mauro’s raw frustrations, every bit of painful frostbite, and childlike admiration for the visual magnificence - as if I was there with him, through thick and thin, even in his utmost ridiculous or vulnerable moments.
I was moved by his thoughts and spiritual reflection. The motivations for these high-altitude expeditions did not lie in ambition or machismo, he simply climbed because of a “calling”. Dave Mauro was far from a man at peace: he was continually dealing with personal hardships: divorce, abandonment issue, death in the family, fear of love and intimacy. To him, mountaineering was an extreme form of meditation, to reason through the mess and build a better version of himself. Free from the buggering city noise, he was left alone with his own strength and in his own mind. We watched him sulking in quiet desperation, chatting casually with his deceased brother’s ghost and eventually connecting with warm-hearted people. Strangely, I did not feel I was intruding, because the book came from his wish to share, all in a too genuine voice. After each climb, Dave came back home with a ready mind for emotional healing, a newfound courage to tackle his malaise head-on, the demons still present but not so scary anymore. Somehow, that was more victorious than standing on top of a continent.
The book was peppered with small words of wisdom, sometimes uncommon or counterintuitive. The prevalent theme is to stop looking at the summit - just focus on finding joy in each day. The advice will not only prove useful in extreme circumstances (sixteen thousand feet above sea level) but when you are faced with a challenge so grand and overwhelming that you start questioning yourself why bother trying. In fact, this book is essential to someone struggling in life, those who sense a purpose but are reluctant to act due to fright and self-doubt.
The book needed some minor adjustments. The descriptions felt repetitive over time, occasionally Mauro digressed too far (especially when the improv part was concerned), not to mention the one-note undramatic tone. If you read it at one sitting, you may find yourself bored or confused after the first two chapters. To ensure the greatest satisfaction, I think The Altitude Journals should be read in the Arabian Nights manner: a few excerpts at a time. Let the words and experience slowly sink in, while you eagerly anticipate what will happen next.
I rate this book 4 out of 4 stars, a must-read for those tempted by the wilderness, those who find themselves in a desperate loop and wish for some instructions on coping and living, and those who are looking for some form of literary excitement.
******
The Altitude Journals
View: on Bookshelves | on Amazon
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4 out of 4 stars
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I set out to read this book with the expectation of an adrenaline-inducing adventure, magnetic landscape and a sense of victory over altitude. Instead, I got a down-to-earth, even grim account from a white man in his midlife crisis, hoping to climb not for the love of mountains but to battle his lifelong demons. As unflattering as this may sound, I was not let down. At first confused and surprised, yes, but this book came out to be a more worthwhile adventure compared to my original assumption.
The Altitude Journals documented David Mauro’s journey from a clueless mountaineering rookie to a proud conqueror of the Seven Summits: Denali (North America), Kilimanjaro (Africa), Elbrus (Europe), Aconcagua (South America), Vinson Massif (Antarctica), Carstensz Pyramid (Australia) and of course, “Mother Goddess of the Universe” Mount Everest (Asia). Each one presented different struggles: life-threatening avalanches, deep crevasses, deadly altitude sickness, or worst, chances of falling victim to cannibalism. To the public, Mauro’s diary felt too real and too surreal at the same time: how could a nearly fifty-year-old man achieve such an extraordinary yet dangerous feat? On the flip side, we could relate to his experience, not because we had climbed before, but since we all knew the sense of dread and insecurity lurking over our lives.
The first appeal of the book came from the realistic and meticulous narration of the climbing process, nothing too far-fetched or too poetic. No details were too small or uninteresting: the grueling physical training, expensive equipment, inevitable dangers. Even the mundane camp etiquette and the private “plumbing” problem were not spared. Technical terms were broken down into simple phrases so that a novice could easily understand. As a result, The Altitude Journals can loosely serve as a “Mountaineering for Dummies” guide if you are interested in the sport. Yet this book was not a list of dry descriptions: it depicted Mauro’s raw frustrations, every bit of painful frostbite, and childlike admiration for the visual magnificence - as if I was there with him, through thick and thin, even in his utmost ridiculous or vulnerable moments.
I was moved by his thoughts and spiritual reflection. The motivations for these high-altitude expeditions did not lie in ambition or machismo, he simply climbed because of a “calling”. Dave Mauro was far from a man at peace: he was continually dealing with personal hardships: divorce, abandonment issue, death in the family, fear of love and intimacy. To him, mountaineering was an extreme form of meditation, to reason through the mess and build a better version of himself. Free from the buggering city noise, he was left alone with his own strength and in his own mind. We watched him sulking in quiet desperation, chatting casually with his deceased brother’s ghost and eventually connecting with warm-hearted people. Strangely, I did not feel I was intruding, because the book came from his wish to share, all in a too genuine voice. After each climb, Dave came back home with a ready mind for emotional healing, a newfound courage to tackle his malaise head-on, the demons still present but not so scary anymore. Somehow, that was more victorious than standing on top of a continent.
The book was peppered with small words of wisdom, sometimes uncommon or counterintuitive. The prevalent theme is to stop looking at the summit - just focus on finding joy in each day. The advice will not only prove useful in extreme circumstances (sixteen thousand feet above sea level) but when you are faced with a challenge so grand and overwhelming that you start questioning yourself why bother trying. In fact, this book is essential to someone struggling in life, those who sense a purpose but are reluctant to act due to fright and self-doubt.
The book needed some minor adjustments. The descriptions felt repetitive over time, occasionally Mauro digressed too far (especially when the improv part was concerned), not to mention the one-note undramatic tone. If you read it at one sitting, you may find yourself bored or confused after the first two chapters. To ensure the greatest satisfaction, I think The Altitude Journals should be read in the Arabian Nights manner: a few excerpts at a time. Let the words and experience slowly sink in, while you eagerly anticipate what will happen next.
I rate this book 4 out of 4 stars, a must-read for those tempted by the wilderness, those who find themselves in a desperate loop and wish for some instructions on coping and living, and those who are looking for some form of literary excitement.
******
The Altitude Journals
View: on Bookshelves | on Amazon
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