Why I Picked It Up

I loved my first experience with Erling Kagge's nature-slash-meditative writing. Silence: In an Age of Noise was sparse but affecting, detailing his solo trek to the South Pole, and my only point of contention was my usual critique when it comes to writers like him and Cal Newport (of Deep Work fame), which is slightly inescapable.

I think about solitude and visibility and silence a lot, both separately and in combination. My relationship with camouflage or invisibility has always been complicated because of my status as an identical twin. People actually treat you, an individual, as completely indistinguishable from and interchangeable with somebody else, or at least subtly consider another person in decisions that should be solely about you. In many cases, I don't have the privilege of being treated like my own person, which most people don't even have to think twice about as a basic human need.

Needless to say, I know I'm more sensitive to any perceived threats to my autonomy than others (which is why one of my major themes of the year has been the paradoxical tensions between solitude and connection.) I get very twitchy about any infringement on my independence, which sometimes goes too far.

So I really loved Erling Kagge's reflections on quiet during his exploration to the South Pole. I love any story or nonfiction narrative with an emphasis on individual accomplishment and pursuit, especially when connected to nature, awe, and mastery. That seems to be what I love the most in nonfiction (and in reality.)

What I Thought About Going Into It
I rarely request review copies ("galleys" or "ARCs") pre-release nowadays, but had to beg for Erling Kagge's latest. For one, I have a long-running obsession with the Northern Lights. Seeing them is one of my maybe three actual bucket list items, so I'll devour any related book.

I loved his voice and his way of infusing microhistory with personal reflections—similar to Bonnie Tsui's Why We Swim or Dick Couch's The Warrior Elite. A favorite quality.

I've been reading a ton about nature and awe, obviously one of my favorite topics. I've also been reading a lot about physical limits, fatigue, and mental endurance. And of course—I was a history major with a deep love for the history of science, so exploration and expeditions are right on up there, especially in regards to this sense of earned beauty and the hero's journey. In the past few months, I've been trying to articulate the commonalities within my favorite books and topics, and these threads are now clear.

So this book already hit on many of my recent and evergreen loves. And it ended up being so much better than I expected too, hitting the favorites list. I want to book club it so badly.

Notable: Where I Read It

I ended up reading most of After the North Pole while on a press trip in Québec, specifically wrapped in a robe, nestled in a beanbag under a red sauna light after doing a cold plunge in the (aptly named) Devil's River. (I'm proud of myself for that one.)

At this point in my travel journalism career, I've been lucky to be able to write about the benefits of water, which means I've had the privilege of going to quite a few hot springs, spa experiences, etc,. in Iceland, Scotland, Park City, and more. The book itself opens in northern Québec, which was a lucky coincidence, and I devoured it.

At times, I drifted in and out of sleep: snow falling, wet-haired, steam rising, etc,. Such a heavenly depiction of the exact kinds of contrast and earned sensation I relish from the book itself. I couldn't even imagine a better scenario for reading this book, so that contributed to the pleasure of the experience.

What It's About
I admittedly knew little about the actual content of the book beyond the author's name and the location. Since sense of place is so crucial to my enjoyment of a book, I knew I'd love that. Since I devour any exploration-centric narrative, I knew I'd enjoy that.

Had I actually paid more attention, I would have realized that After the North Pole is basically a history of various North Pole explorations, told with such passion and zest that it made me want to pick up an ice axe myself. This is the type of microhistory I absolutely sink into.

Kagge explains the considerations that go into each North Pole exploration. Which gambles that various historical entities took. Which theories drove the pursuit i.e. the belief that there was a point at the North Pole that was ice-less sea. I also hadn't realized that the North Pole is constantly shifting because of the ice drift, so precision in measurement is such a contentious issue for establishing who's "gotten there" or not.

In many ways, After the North Pole is also such a fascinating portrait of exploration (particularly in the 19th century) because of the impact of news, verification, contrasting political agendas, etc,. I feel like I could sit down and ace a European history test—my major in college—right now based purely on the effective, impressive context Kagge lays out for each expedition.

Voice & Tone
The narrative itself was so well-connected and thoughtfully organized, laying out the structure of the politics, individual excursions, and scientific discoveries in a way that made them easy to follow—which is a skill. I had the sense that Erling Kagge could be an excellent history tutor. The stories he told stuck in my brain because he so effectively grounded their relevance and context. Throughout it all, he never lost sight of the emotional elements of the discoveries too—the nuanced, human side of each journey. Where they faltered, where motives weren't entirely pure, which rivalries bubbled up, who messed up in securing funding.

He very accurately characterized the euphoria and devastation of such a specific life dream. I really understood where reality and ideal mismatched, which made the narrative so much more visceral overall. As someone who's always had a singular calling and the drive to make it happen, I often have a hard time relating to those who don't and experience such gratifying, cathartic relief when I encounter those rare(r) individuals who have the same orientation that I do.

And he really stoked the hunger and enthusiasm for his pursuit
on every page, which is a factor I think defines the best possible memoirs, adventure narratives, etc,. Make me understand the why. Make me see where the writer cannot separate themselves from their all-encompassing awe for what you do. Love.

Individual triumphs and failures are emotional. There are moments of humor and zest. Shocking deaths, survivals, and solutions pepper each attempt. There are betrayals, poisonings, long-distance longings, liars, and more. Overall, this portrait of North Pole expeditions is rich, fascinating, and absorbing. I made so many connections to other books I'm reading too, and Kagge drew from his own fantastic ecosystem of references. Normally, I enjoy a historical narrative, but I'm rarely addicted to it in the way I was with this one. You really understand why people devote their entire lives to this quest.

As an "intense" person myself who values contrast and earned beauty, I think often about how to tell the difference between happiness and relief
and whether that's worth doing. Is one better than the other? Are certain people wired to one? I think about identifying what is the satisfaction and strength of overcoming pain—hardship inoculation, confidence, self-sufficiency, etc,.—versus what is an addiction to what is, essentially, your nervous system always firing on all cylinders: fight-or-flight.

Many people, like myself, who relish the tunnel vision of an all-encompassing obsession struggle with the comedown, and that was reflected here too in a way that helps me process my own goals and desires. And when it's over: what do you keep? What do you hold onto? There's a very precise texture, per se, to that dialed-in mode of living (with all its highs and lows) that Kagge does an excellent job describing both within historical figures and himself.

Lines & Moments I Loved
“ It is so cold that any particle carrying smell, bacteria, pollution, precipitation or moisture quickly turns to ice. But to my surprise, I suddenly caught the scent of flowers. For a moment, I was baffled, before I realized that Patricia, the co-pilot, had sprayed on some perfume. The smell took off with the plane, leaving nothing but the cold.”

“Ever since clocks were synchronized toward the end of the nineteenth century, the world has recognized the significance of the poles as the points that define local time around the world, and yet they are the only places in the world that are not ruled by the clock. The Pole is, in effect, timeless.”

“Once Geir had decided on March 1990 and our preparations had begun, I realized my dreams were flawed: they did not include even the remotest possibility of failure. A challenge is only meaningful when there are dangers—and the chance of failure. If it were not dangerous or difficult, many more people would go to the North Pole.”

“ When sitting at home, it is all too easy to come up with good reasons not to do anything, but when you are out in the wilds, you become more single-minded and think less about sensible reasons for doing what you are doing. You feel that you are part of the ocean, the wind and the sun. Adventure is all about deliberately making life more difficult than it needs to be, and having far less control over yourself and your surroundings...In my experience, home is not somewhere we go without food and drink or feel unsafe. Yet when these are lacking, life seems somehow richer. When it is no longer a given that these primary needs will be met, you become acutely aware of them.”

“Most polar explorers will be familiar with this feeling of emptiness; you have been consumed by a dream day and night, an obsessive love for a distant goal, and then suddenly it is no longer there.”

Geography fabulous.
Nobile and his flags (I laughed).
The necessity of luck.
The courage of explorers who turned back.
Pistols and polar bears.
Meditations on awe vs. the sublime.
“ Seneca wrote that things that are very hard to bear are sweet to remember. No one can take your experiences away from you, unlike anything else you might have.”

(There was actually a great article about this in The Atlantic recently—that we surprisingly break out our rose-colored glasses for hard, painful experiences because we miss what they prove to us about our capacity for strength. I'll find it and link.)

Why people like to read about others' sufferings, and how polar explorers took advantage of that when recounting their expeditions for public opinion.
“On a demanding expedition, you become your actions. What you feel and think is not so important. For me, one of the greatest experiences on any expedition is the point when the past and future mean nothing, and I stop thinking and am completely present in the moment. It is this state of being that most polar explorers miss when they are safely at home. It is only when my thoughts evaporate that things change for a few seconds, minutes or hours.”

The Land Which Is Not (poem).
“'The distance between heaven and hell is so short,' as Børge and I said, several times. At home, we are generally fairly balanced—things are relatively good or relatively bad—but out on the ice there is no middle ground. Life is all about either hunger, frost and toil, or satisfaction, warmth and rest.”

“A little tastes good. Less tastes even better.”

He talked about The Odyssey and Moby Dick and the whirling dervishes of Sufism and finitude, all of which are topics that have become undercurrent themes of my current thought pattern (ritual, meaning-making, expansion, distillation) and I can't imagine a better feeling than this weird, resonant synchronicity and interconnectedness of my reading list. It's really, really beautiful to experience such a distillation of Words Like Silver and my taste at the moment as I pick up various writers.

“Courage goes beyond a neatly defined quality that you are either born with or without. It is something that is developed, and can be strengthened or diminished before, during and after an expedition. Courage presupposes that you have an understanding of the possible consequences of your actions. But, of course, that is not always the case.”

Kagge has this gorgeous way of expanding small beauties in contrast to the pain and challenge of polar exploration, and then articulating why his worldview and the broader context allowed him to find them meaningful. He knows when to zoom in on these moments of relief after the electric exhaustion of the trek: the match, the raisin, memories from a distance (with an impressive self-awareness of when he's romanticizing.) I loved that he so thoroughly embodied Angela Duckworth's concept of nuance as novelty.

“I think 'the silver-shining vacantness' is one of the most poetic and precise descriptions of the North Pole that I have ever read.”

Overall Thoughts
I have much more to book club, but overall—I loved, loved, loved this book and think it will appeal across the board to lovers of history and politics, nature writing, those who (like me) are devoted to what they do, and anyone who appreciates a cinematic microhistory. It's atmospheric, detailed without being overwhelming, impressively clear, and knows when to be intense vs. light-hearted. The best of a subgenre, for sure. Although I love Silence: In an Age of Noise, this one is Kagge at his best. I would highly recommend it.

For fans of:
Why We Swim by Bonnie Tsui; The Warrior Elite by Dick Couch; Endure by Alex Hutchinson; Extreme Medicine by Kevin Fong, M.D.; The Nature Fix by Florence Williams; The Snow Leopard by Peter Matthiessen; Moby Dick by Herman Melville; A Walk in the Woods by Bill Bryson; Silence: In an Age of Noise by Erling Kagge; Anyone who secretly loved AP World or AP Euro; Lowkey, the intro scene to Disney's National Treasure movie (hahaha); etc,.

interesting book that's definitely less about the actual adventure and more about life and all that such stuff. 4 stars. tysm for the arc.

„Adventure is all about deliberately making life more difficult than it needs to be, and having far less control over yourself and your surroundings”.

Despite the title, this is not a typical adventure book focused on the narrator's exploits. Written a few decades after the heroic journey to the North Pole, it is more a meditation on the human urge to explore and the fascination with polar regions, from ancient times to the present. It is beautiful, lyrical, and informative. The author touches on many topics, from cartography to literature to biographies of many explorers, but the part I loved the most were the snippets that reveal why anyone would choose to travel to such hostile places.

While I can't compare my humble thru-hikes in Sweden or Scotland to Kagge's expeditions, his words rang so true to me because they perfectly capture why I choose to spend my vacations sleeping in a tent and dragging a heavy backpack.

Here is another sample: „There has to be a price, some form of discomfort—the cold, wind, thirst, and steep slopes. Satisfaction comes from continuing to move laboriously forward in the right direction, no matter what. Not knowing if you will reach your goal. That is when life feels real. Time expands”.

Highly recommended to anyone who has ever felt this way, or who is hesitant to leave a warm home for the unknown. It is so worth it.

Thanks to the publisher, HarperOne, and NetGalley for an advanced copy of this book.

No matter what he chooses to write about, I find Kagge's insights fascinating and refreshing change of pace from the books I typically pick up.