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4.05 AVERAGE
4.05 AVERAGE
Someone in our book group commented, "This makes me feel like I live such a boring life." Also, it makes me feel like I don't work nearly hard enough.
I remember my college roommate carrying this book around in the mid-1980s when she was taking flying lessons, and I was intrigued by it, but I have never read it. 25 years later, having seen Mombasa and Voi and the Rift Valley myself from the cockpit of a small plane, with a pilot's license in hand and several books about Africa behind me, having read just about every early aviator's autobiography and considering myself fairly knowledgeable on the subject of pioneering women pilots, it is UNBELIEVABLE that this is the first time I've read West with the Night. But it is.
And I love it. Not so much for the sharing of a fantastic childhood of a European girl spearing boar with Nandi tribesmen, or for the incredible descriptions of sky and sea and desert as seen from the air, but for the occasional crystallization of things I feel deeply myself. Like this:
'When you fly,' the young man said, 'you get a feeling of possession that you couldn't have if you owned all of Africa. You feel that everything you see belongs to you -- all the pieces are put together, and the whole is yours; not that you want it, but because, when you're alone in a plane, there's no one to share it. It's there and it's yours.'
There is so much left out of this book -- so many personal details, the messy background of Beryl Markham's life that we hunger for in a biography, which of her companions she was in love with and what happened to her mother and children (I personally found myself wondering furiously what the heck she was doing in 1942, in East Africa or in Europe or wherever she was, in addition to publishing this book). I longed for pictures, for talismans, for the face of the young Beryl to pore over. There's nothing here but the carefully measured portion she chooses to give us. And yet I feel that she's painted a wonderful portrait of herself, told us how she feels about the world and many more important things than names and dates.
It is very reminiscent of St. Exupéry, in philosophy and tone and style. I gather there is a rumor abroad that he may have helped her write it. I'm choosing to believe she wrote it herself. I mean, come on, guys. She flew the Atlantic herself.
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Best random adage, alleged quotation from Bror Blixen: "Life is life and fun is fun, but it's all so quiet when the goldfish die."
I remember my college roommate carrying this book around in the mid-1980s when she was taking flying lessons, and I was intrigued by it, but I have never read it. 25 years later, having seen Mombasa and Voi and the Rift Valley myself from the cockpit of a small plane, with a pilot's license in hand and several books about Africa behind me, having read just about every early aviator's autobiography and considering myself fairly knowledgeable on the subject of pioneering women pilots, it is UNBELIEVABLE that this is the first time I've read West with the Night. But it is.
And I love it. Not so much for the sharing of a fantastic childhood of a European girl spearing boar with Nandi tribesmen, or for the incredible descriptions of sky and sea and desert as seen from the air, but for the occasional crystallization of things I feel deeply myself. Like this:
'When you fly,' the young man said, 'you get a feeling of possession that you couldn't have if you owned all of Africa. You feel that everything you see belongs to you -- all the pieces are put together, and the whole is yours; not that you want it, but because, when you're alone in a plane, there's no one to share it. It's there and it's yours.'
There is so much left out of this book -- so many personal details, the messy background of Beryl Markham's life that we hunger for in a biography, which of her companions she was in love with and what happened to her mother and children (I personally found myself wondering furiously what the heck she was doing in 1942, in East Africa or in Europe or wherever she was, in addition to publishing this book). I longed for pictures, for talismans, for the face of the young Beryl to pore over. There's nothing here but the carefully measured portion she chooses to give us. And yet I feel that she's painted a wonderful portrait of herself, told us how she feels about the world and many more important things than names and dates.
It is very reminiscent of St. Exupéry, in philosophy and tone and style. I gather there is a rumor abroad that he may have helped her write it. I'm choosing to believe she wrote it herself. I mean, come on, guys. She flew the Atlantic herself.
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Best random adage, alleged quotation from Bror Blixen: "Life is life and fun is fun, but it's all so quiet when the goldfish die."
As great or an even better writer than she was a pilot. A fantastic and inspiring life laid bare.
I had read Circling The Sun and loved that book. It inspired me to read this book to see what Markham wrote about her life. It is a book very much of her times. She touches on stories from her life that are important to her and were major events in her life. If you have read Circling The Sun you will find no new stories in this memoir but you will get to knowMarkham in her own voice. It is easy to see why Hemingway loved her writing because her style is similar to his. It is an interesting memoir and worth a read.
This is such a strange book to review. She was the first person to fly solo across the Atlantic from east-west, and was one of the few (or THE) professional pilots working in Africa. She existed during a time of British colonial decline, and as such, harbored racist imperialist ideas of what makes a “nation” or even the beginnings of “society.” But while born in England, she grew up in Africa, and based on the claims on this book, slept and hunted and learned what women (no matter origin or color) were not permitted to do. Does that make her brave? An honest question.
Some descriptions of Africa felt cliché, yet her way of telling it felt new. It kinda evokes the Montaigne cannibal myth - that there is beauty in savagery and “barbarie.” That the way of life for indigenous people is simple and humble because it does not follow European tradition. She makes a number of remarks about how the future of technology is just on the horizon for the continent, as are accessible roads and building developments. But then will write, maybe with glee, how animals destroy telephone lines with rhinos itching their horns against the posts and monkeys swinging on the wires. She writes like a white person living in Africa — that her chosen land somehow makes her special, a white savior. But all in all, she was a women after pleasure. She writes as if the necessity for pleasure stems from the lush environment of Africa, like some sort primal Eden...
I don’t know what to say about this book, and there aren’t many papers written about it. So
Some descriptions of Africa felt cliché, yet her way of telling it felt new. It kinda evokes the Montaigne cannibal myth - that there is beauty in savagery and “barbarie.” That the way of life for indigenous people is simple and humble because it does not follow European tradition. She makes a number of remarks about how the future of technology is just on the horizon for the continent, as are accessible roads and building developments. But then will write, maybe with glee, how animals destroy telephone lines with rhinos itching their horns against the posts and monkeys swinging on the wires. She writes like a white person living in Africa — that her chosen land somehow makes her special, a white savior. But all in all, she was a women after pleasure. She writes as if the necessity for pleasure stems from the lush environment of Africa, like some sort primal Eden...
I don’t know what to say about this book, and there aren’t many papers written about it. So
The author is a storyteller who weaves details of events and landscape together in a mesmerizing way. But I would have enjoyed hearing her tell this more than I did reading it. Sometimes, the stories seemed to be rambling more than necessary to get to the point.
“It is no good telling yourself that one day you will wish you had never made that change; it is no good anticipating regrets. Every tomorrow ought not to resemble every yesterday.”
adventurous
emotional
informative
inspiring
medium-paced
This is an incredible book about an amazing, amazing life. And the writing is also beautiful. (As you'll see if you pick up the book, even Hemmingway admired her writing...and that's saying something! Though, I found in some brief internet research that he also said she was a bitch! but hey, can't win 'em all.) Read this!!
The book could have been half its size and I would have given it 5 stars. I loved the stories but didn't care for all the filler.