Book Notes – In this series, I share my insights, ideas, and reviews of my favourite books, whose topics are wide-ranging.

Rating – 6/10

Amazon Link – IN THE SHADOW OF THE MOUNTAIN : Amazon.in: Books

Insights and Review

This is, in many ways, a supernatural story.

Yet, this was an extremely hard-hitting book, and I don’t mean that as a compliment. At many times, it felt too strong. I had to physically put the book down, and after finishing it, I had an uneasy feeling in my mouth. Many parts of this book made me uncomfortable. 

This is not to take away from her story. It’s just that the hardship is described so vividly that I had to skip it for my mental well-being. I just didn’t have the guts to stomach the trauma she had to endure. From sexual abuse as a child to a neglectful father, the suicide of a beloved, and more. It’s too much for anyone to have gone through, and I applaud her strength for 

Now, climbing mountains is an odd sport. Out of the ground rise these massive geographical structures, which people ascend for no justifiable reason. One can’t find tangible value in putting oneself through physical exertion and mortal danger. So many have gone up mountains only to never come back. Some have never been found. Those who return do so from the brink; on mountains above 8000m, your body is dying from the thin air.

Yet, these land masses continue to attract people every year. There is something in the very act of climbing that draws them. Some intangible value makes people sign up for this; maybe it’s something adrift in the air.

I am one of these people who will run to the mountains if given the chance. Yet there is no way you’ll find me scaling Everest, or any of the dangerous peaks for that matter. The risk is too high.

Not for Silvia Vasquez-Lavado though. She is a force of nature, and she saw climbing Everest, and then the other great 8000m peaks as her salvation, making her the first Peruvian lady to reach the top of Mount Everest and the first openly queer woman to complete the seven summits.

The book traces her journey with her queer identity, along with being a female in a male-dominated, testosterone-fueled atmosphere of mountaineering. This angle proved most insightful and should probably be mandatory reading for men like me interested in this broad space. For instance, I didn’t know that much of the mountaineering gear was first designed with the male physique in mind, and so, for example, her boots and crampons often slipped between the rungs of the wide ladders placed to span the ice gorges. 

On her journey to the top of the world, she also takes a group of Nepali girls with her to the base camp. They all embark on this joint journey of healing, as they are all survivors of sexual assault. They see the mountains as a place to heal from their trauma. Hearing about their interactions moved something in me. 

That said, in the writing, I feel like every single episode of trauma (of which there are many) is written so strongly that they all collectively lose their impact and that each episode slaps you so hard that you wonder whether you want to continue. On numerous occasions, I’ve thought I should put this aside for the pure reason of being able to continue with some semblance of stability. 

And within all this, there are unexpected instances when she tries to be funny. This falls flat, leaving the reader with a nervous smile, wondering whether it’s appropriate to laugh in such a serious book. From an editorial standpoint, I understand the need to intersperse the sombre narrative with some humour, but this book has too few spread too thin. 

So then why am I including this book on my website? Silvia Vasquez-Lavado undoubtedly has an inspirational story, and it’s the right fit for a certain kind of person. If you’re looking for an inspirational read, this book is an option. Just be prepared to be a little scared along the way. 

Then again, can inspiration be devoid of trauma?

Favourite Quotes

“I know why Jimena whispers when they see Everest.

It’s awe.

It’s that sense of being both small and a part of something so much

bigger than our smallness.

Awe is the gateway drug to healing trauma through nature.

Awe must be experienced. And trauma isn’t something you scoop out

with a spoon. It has a home in you, and in that home, it lives, often comfortably, sometimes quietly, but always ready to trash the place at a moment’s notice.”

“There was something raging in me then, a writhing, incandescent ghoul that shoved me past any warnings or logic. I was in awe of the mountain, of course, but I couldn’t wrap my mind around what any of it meant or why, exactly, I was even there.” 

“What arrogance and delusion to think that a mountain could save me from myself. To believe that this sprawling formation of rocks and ice would open its so-called arms and provide me with safety. That it would give a shit if I lived or died. She’s killed so many. People come to Everest for many reasons—they want peace, adventure, honor, glory, transcendence. But like a good mother, she gives us what we need, not what we want.

Maybe Everest really is my glorified death wish. Maybe what I’ve been chasing is a way to go out on top. Literally.

Why did I expect Chomolungma to save me?

After all, she was not the first mother to let me down.”

“I’ve lived, and practically died, by the ethos that to survive is to overcome. But again and again, mountains have shown me that strong is not the opposite of soft. That they are symbiotic”

“This is what Dorjee means by practice, by committing life-or-death actions to muscle memory. If we screw up here, or worse, higher up, it’s an easy slip to an icy death. Over the last month, danger has become so normalized that sometimes in moments that are less technical or terrifying I have to slap myself to remember the stakes. Maybe we climbers have a high danger tolerance to start, but there’s also a tapering down of attention. You can’t think about life or death every minute of the day. You have to live in

the kinetics of the climb. Everything becomes nano. The plonk of a crampon into the snow. An arm reaching up the rope. I’m not curious about the summit or the obstacles ahead, but about what happens if I just keep walking. Maybe it’s so hard for adults to experience awe because we’re thinking too much about what happens next.”