Alone on the Wall
Ratings11
Average rating3.4
15
Ratings11
Average rating3.4
Including two new chapters on Alex Honnold’s free solo ascent of the iconic 3,000-foot El Capitan in Yosemite National Park. On June 3rd, 2017, Alex Honnold became the first person to free solo Yosemite's El Capitan—to scale the wall without rope, a partner, or any protective gear—completing what was described as "the greatest feat of pure rock climbing in the history of the sport" (National Geographic) and "one of the great athletic feats of any kind, ever" (New York Times). Already one of the most famous adventure athletes in the world, Honnold has now been hailed as "the greatest climber of all time" (Vertical magazine). Alone on the Wall recounts the most astonishing achievements of Honnold’s extraordinary life and career, brimming with lessons on living fearlessly, taking risks, and maintaining focus even in the face of extreme danger. Now Honnold tells, for the first time and in his own words, the story of his 3 hours and 56 minutes on the sheer face of El Cap, which Outside called "the moon landing of free soloing…a generation-defining climb. Bad ass and beyond words…one of the pinnacle sporting moments of all time."
Reviews with the most likes.
Really didn't like this one. Tbh, I skimmed it after the first ~third because it was so insufferable. Don't get me wrong: Alex Honnold's climbing achievements are truly incredible. But I'm not into climbing, nor have any desire to be, so all of the technical language and narratives around specific climbs were boring to me. And then Alex himself presents as a misogynistic megalomaniac, though that's not at all how he or the journalist writing the other half of this book present him. He's unlikeable, untelatable, and one-dimensional. Also words I would use to describe this book.
You know that pit-of-your-stomach feeling you get when you watch Alex free solo? It comes across in print, too, only it's harder to avert your eyes.
Not much point in writing a review: if you're a climber you're probably going to read this; if you're not, you're not. At least right now in December 2015. But I'm writing this anyway, for a later audience: someone in the (I hope!) far distant future, hearing of Alex's death, and wanting to understand. No, dear reader, I don't think this book will help you understand. What it might do, though, is offer a sense of satisfaction. Not in the “he died doing what he loved” sense—I find that an empty sentiment—but in the “he led a worthwhile life” one.
He does, I think, lead a fulfilling and worthwhile life. He's definitely an asset to the world: kind, smart, talented, humble, generous. He has accomplished more than most of us, and inspired millions in the process. I admire him; I just don't understand him, in the sense that I'll never understand Feynman or Einstein: genius is just too far a country.
What I find most bittersweet is that Alex hasn't yet met Murphy (“If anything can go wrong, it will”), at least in the sense that most of us have. So not only has Alex been incredibly lucky, this good luck has led him to pursue—and succeed at—riskier and riskier ventures. The end result so far has been beauty and joy. Murphy comes to everybody, though, and I fervently hope that Alex has a SRENE anchor when they meet.
