This was a very interesting account of some big time climbs by one of the premier climbers of his day. His style is very direct, without the need to be overly critical of other climbers (a la Krakauer). He also manages to get into the discussion of climbing ethics with an elegantly simple statement of what it means to him, unlike some other climber/writers who use ethics to throw around blame for accident under the guise of ethics. The only thing I was disappointed in with this book was that it just seemed to stop out of the blue, almost as if he paused before he finished it, and then forgot to get back to it. All in all, though, a very good read.

characterizes Haston's retelling of his brief, stellar climbing career. A good antidote to the flowery romanticism of some other mountaineering autobiographies, this excellent book belongs on all climbers' shelves.

A sequence of breathtaking adventures from childhood onwards in which Dougal surpasses the achievements of most world class climbers of his day.

Dougal was one of the lucky lads born at just the right time to come of age in the '60's when his special type of charisma was coin of the realm. He was handsome in an unusual Jean Belmondo sort of way, arrogant, enigmatic, rail thin and intense, spoke little and modestly, dressed like a peacock, and had the gleam of destiny in his eye.

He grew up poor and rowdy in Currie, Scotland, was a moderate student, and discovered climbing when a young teen. From that time on, everybody and everything took a back seat to his ever-widening aspirations. He was flashy, determined and as ascetic on the hills as he was sybaritic on the ground. He went from the Scottish Hills, to the Alps, to Everest in ever-increasing adulation, not the least of it from the ladies. He was killed in an avalanche in Switzerland at age 36. The stylish scarf he wore choked him.

The book gets off to an extremely slow start. The first third is devoted to Dougal's early days in Scotland. Intricate details are given of every hill he ever climbed as a lad. Many of these elaborate facets could only be of interest to another Scottish climber, as there is no map shown, and the reader is not given a sense of the progression of difficulties. Also, Mr. Connor is strangely ambivalent about his youthful subject. The author is at great pains to remind us that a contemporary of Haston's, Robin Smith who was killed in a fall in 1962, was Dougal's superior in every way---on the mountains, socially and academically. At times, I wondered why the author had not chosen Mr. Smith as his subject. When Dougal gets to the Alps, the book kicks in and becomes a fascinating read about Haston's expanding skills and extreme climbing right on to the Himalayas. The author focuses on the strong partnerships Haston forged and his hard work as a member of the team. The book is at its best when Haston is allowed to speak for himself via diaries and journals.

Haston, except for his genius on the mountain, was not an admirable man. He had no particular interest in money, but didn't care how he came by it taking advantage of his friends and forgetting favors. He was a wild drunk (for some reason the author backs off of the word "alcoholic," which Haston certainly was). He was at fault in a fatal auto accident where he ran away from the scene leaving the dead and injured on the road. He left friends and family behind when they no longer did him any good. In his own lights, he lived as he had to; his whole being was focused on the next climb, what and wherever it was.

Enjoyable and thought provoking with enough technical material to satisfy the climbers and enough human interest for the general reader.