Review by nic_75 -- The Altitude Journals by David J Mauro
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nic_75
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Review by nic_75 -- The Altitude Journals by David J Mauro
[Following is a volunteer review of "The Altitude Journals" by David J Mauro.]
The Altitude Journals is a novel written by a David Mauro about his life after deciding to summit seven mountains across the world. Upon entering mid-life and after suffering the breakdown of his marriage, Mauro decided he needed to take on some new, bold challenges in order to re-invent himself, make him feel important, and give him bragging rights. If that seems like a simplistic and superficial view, you’re correct. The “substance” of this book is simplistic and superficial. This could have been a nice short story or a long essay, but there’s not enough originality and movement to keep a reader engaged for hundreds of pages.
Mauro begins with a brief story about his childhood spent trying to find his place in the world, a way to leave a mark. His desire to “be something” to the outside world eventually extends into his marriage where he accumulates possessions and “things” that looked good from the outside as the marriage was dying inside from lack of authenticity. The author’s childhood longing to be “big” and admired and “leave a mark,” is prevalent in the author’s adult life and all his pursuits, up to and including mountain climbing, betray his never-truly-unpacked childhood neglect. The story becomes quickly mired down in a strange combination of him alternately begging the reader to “look at me,” and then claiming he is humble and unable to understand why people thinks he wants attention. I would have felt more charitable about that shortcoming if the rest of the book had given me substance in the form of detailing facts and vocabulary related to climbing, showing depth in the author’s relationships with fellow climbers (many of whom are with him on multiple climbs), or how he was challenged in his daily life due to climbing— the training and money required, and his time away from family and employment. Unfortunately, The Altitude Journals doesn’t deliver on most of those points.
There were times throughout the book that the author did a fantastic job of setting the scene for a climb, or for a particular moment during a climb. However, as he referenced specific vocabulary or conditions related to climbing he did not follow through with a complete explanation of the terms. As example: I read the electronic version and at location 466, Mauro talks about Cheyne-Stokes breathing, but doesn’t explain it in even a cursory way. Later in the book, the author decides to climb Mt. Kilimanjaro. However, there is no mention of how he was able to locate a guide or become part of a team in order to make the climb. Unlike his first climb where his brother-in-law arranged everything, this time he had to do it himself. The average reader wouldn’t know how this was done or the effort and financial output required. Deeper or more detailed explanations regarding things like this would be nice and would lend more authenticity to the story.
At other points, Mauro shows himself to be culturally unaware and quite unfazed by his own ignorance. While in Africa, the author makes a racially themed joke and then quips to the reader about how “Africa was not ready for race humor” (location 1050). If the author made the effort to train, finance, plan for, and then physically climb a mountain, one has to wonder how and why researching cultural norms and the history of the location wasn’t part of that preparation. Later, at location 4032, the author is recalling the effects of some medication he received. He references the tingling sensation in his genital region but he refers to that area as “the man zone.” That phrasing jumped out as being immature and uneducated. Given that proper terminology is readily known and available, and given the fact that women also have a genital regions that would experience the same effects, there is no reason for a grown man writing a book for adults to use such juvenile and silly terminology.
Mauro is often accompanied by the same people on different climbs but yet the reader learns nothing more than cursory facts about these other people and is left to wonder if that’s because the author lacks the writing style to be able to portray depth or because the author never bothered to really get to know his fellow climbers? I fear it is the latter, since the reader repeatedly witnesses the author making every attempt to keep the focus only on himself. At 2915 he actually sits with a wounded female fellow climber and tells her how she “scared the hell out of” him and then acknowledges that the “wounded [needed to] comfort the bystander.” That wasn't the first time, and certainly was not the last time, the author wrote about an incident or introduced a person simply as a tool to highlight his own "greatness" or needs.
At various place, seemingly in attempt to simply fill space between climbs, the author gives the reader a window into a personal conversation with his son, a brief illustration of his business acumen, and an abrupt introduction to his ailing father. He brags about being financially successful, being able to accept his gay son, and “saving the world” from his ailing, aging father as though his actions and behaviors were the most important aspect in each situation. These sidetracks do nothing to further the story, nor are they deep enough to bring the reader closer to the author. This is especially true since the author does not take the time in the story to show the reader how those relationships and business decisions were affected by the training for a climb, the and eventual time spent away from loved ones and engaged in life-threatening situations.
Finally, the lack of depth extends into the overall mood of the book. Mauro tells us he doubts himself and struggles but is unable to show us that struggle. While each climb is vastly different for the climber, reading about each climb can be repetitive, tedious, and boring when there is no deeper meaning or substance provided. By the time Mauro got to Everest, I simply didn’t care what happened or how the author felt. He isn’t an interesting enough writer to pull off seven climbing journals forced into book form. He also wasn’t able to humanize himself, his fellow climbers, or the people in other countries enough to keep me invested in his story. As a reader, I didn't care as much about the author’s repeated thoughts about his climbing gear as I did about his genuine feelings and experiences or relationships with other people and nature.
This ended up being a story about a person looking for accolades, a middle-aged man who wants to make people like him by impressing them. He’s too invested in the applause of the crowd, the attention from his blog, the looks in the airport, questions about his tattoos, and how he thinks he appears to his fellow climbers. This book was an attempt to make a memoir out of a blog. The sentence structure was often awkward, the vocabulary lacked flavor and depth, and most of the book read as though a few lists and journal entries had just been copied onto a page with some “filler” written around them. I expected a climbing memoir that not only took me to the tops of various physical mountains, but brought me to the height of personal emotion and the precariousness of human bonds forged in life-altering moments. Sadly, I was disappointed in all but the descriptions of the physical mountain summits. I would rate this book 2 out of 4.
******
The Altitude Journals
View: on Bookshelves | on Amazon
The Altitude Journals is a novel written by a David Mauro about his life after deciding to summit seven mountains across the world. Upon entering mid-life and after suffering the breakdown of his marriage, Mauro decided he needed to take on some new, bold challenges in order to re-invent himself, make him feel important, and give him bragging rights. If that seems like a simplistic and superficial view, you’re correct. The “substance” of this book is simplistic and superficial. This could have been a nice short story or a long essay, but there’s not enough originality and movement to keep a reader engaged for hundreds of pages.
Mauro begins with a brief story about his childhood spent trying to find his place in the world, a way to leave a mark. His desire to “be something” to the outside world eventually extends into his marriage where he accumulates possessions and “things” that looked good from the outside as the marriage was dying inside from lack of authenticity. The author’s childhood longing to be “big” and admired and “leave a mark,” is prevalent in the author’s adult life and all his pursuits, up to and including mountain climbing, betray his never-truly-unpacked childhood neglect. The story becomes quickly mired down in a strange combination of him alternately begging the reader to “look at me,” and then claiming he is humble and unable to understand why people thinks he wants attention. I would have felt more charitable about that shortcoming if the rest of the book had given me substance in the form of detailing facts and vocabulary related to climbing, showing depth in the author’s relationships with fellow climbers (many of whom are with him on multiple climbs), or how he was challenged in his daily life due to climbing— the training and money required, and his time away from family and employment. Unfortunately, The Altitude Journals doesn’t deliver on most of those points.
There were times throughout the book that the author did a fantastic job of setting the scene for a climb, or for a particular moment during a climb. However, as he referenced specific vocabulary or conditions related to climbing he did not follow through with a complete explanation of the terms. As example: I read the electronic version and at location 466, Mauro talks about Cheyne-Stokes breathing, but doesn’t explain it in even a cursory way. Later in the book, the author decides to climb Mt. Kilimanjaro. However, there is no mention of how he was able to locate a guide or become part of a team in order to make the climb. Unlike his first climb where his brother-in-law arranged everything, this time he had to do it himself. The average reader wouldn’t know how this was done or the effort and financial output required. Deeper or more detailed explanations regarding things like this would be nice and would lend more authenticity to the story.
At other points, Mauro shows himself to be culturally unaware and quite unfazed by his own ignorance. While in Africa, the author makes a racially themed joke and then quips to the reader about how “Africa was not ready for race humor” (location 1050). If the author made the effort to train, finance, plan for, and then physically climb a mountain, one has to wonder how and why researching cultural norms and the history of the location wasn’t part of that preparation. Later, at location 4032, the author is recalling the effects of some medication he received. He references the tingling sensation in his genital region but he refers to that area as “the man zone.” That phrasing jumped out as being immature and uneducated. Given that proper terminology is readily known and available, and given the fact that women also have a genital regions that would experience the same effects, there is no reason for a grown man writing a book for adults to use such juvenile and silly terminology.
Mauro is often accompanied by the same people on different climbs but yet the reader learns nothing more than cursory facts about these other people and is left to wonder if that’s because the author lacks the writing style to be able to portray depth or because the author never bothered to really get to know his fellow climbers? I fear it is the latter, since the reader repeatedly witnesses the author making every attempt to keep the focus only on himself. At 2915 he actually sits with a wounded female fellow climber and tells her how she “scared the hell out of” him and then acknowledges that the “wounded [needed to] comfort the bystander.” That wasn't the first time, and certainly was not the last time, the author wrote about an incident or introduced a person simply as a tool to highlight his own "greatness" or needs.
At various place, seemingly in attempt to simply fill space between climbs, the author gives the reader a window into a personal conversation with his son, a brief illustration of his business acumen, and an abrupt introduction to his ailing father. He brags about being financially successful, being able to accept his gay son, and “saving the world” from his ailing, aging father as though his actions and behaviors were the most important aspect in each situation. These sidetracks do nothing to further the story, nor are they deep enough to bring the reader closer to the author. This is especially true since the author does not take the time in the story to show the reader how those relationships and business decisions were affected by the training for a climb, the and eventual time spent away from loved ones and engaged in life-threatening situations.
Finally, the lack of depth extends into the overall mood of the book. Mauro tells us he doubts himself and struggles but is unable to show us that struggle. While each climb is vastly different for the climber, reading about each climb can be repetitive, tedious, and boring when there is no deeper meaning or substance provided. By the time Mauro got to Everest, I simply didn’t care what happened or how the author felt. He isn’t an interesting enough writer to pull off seven climbing journals forced into book form. He also wasn’t able to humanize himself, his fellow climbers, or the people in other countries enough to keep me invested in his story. As a reader, I didn't care as much about the author’s repeated thoughts about his climbing gear as I did about his genuine feelings and experiences or relationships with other people and nature.
This ended up being a story about a person looking for accolades, a middle-aged man who wants to make people like him by impressing them. He’s too invested in the applause of the crowd, the attention from his blog, the looks in the airport, questions about his tattoos, and how he thinks he appears to his fellow climbers. This book was an attempt to make a memoir out of a blog. The sentence structure was often awkward, the vocabulary lacked flavor and depth, and most of the book read as though a few lists and journal entries had just been copied onto a page with some “filler” written around them. I expected a climbing memoir that not only took me to the tops of various physical mountains, but brought me to the height of personal emotion and the precariousness of human bonds forged in life-altering moments. Sadly, I was disappointed in all but the descriptions of the physical mountain summits. I would rate this book 2 out of 4.
******
The Altitude Journals
View: on Bookshelves | on Amazon
Latest Review: Guardian of Deceit by William H. Coles
