UKH

In the last twelve months I have read and thoroughly enjoyed two climbing books.  One was Psychovertical by Andy Kirkpatrick.  The other was Vertical Pleasure by Mick Fowler.  Both were great.  What struck me though was whereas Psychovertical frequently devotes a chapter to a single pitch of terrifying climbing, Vertical Pleasure has very little actual climbing.  It is mostly comprised of encounters with authority, funny stories about parties or scary moments in a rubber dinghy.  it was a nice reminder actually about how it is often the things that we do whilst about to climb or just after a climb that can lead to many happy memories.

I am not trying to make any comment about which book is better.  Like I said, both were great.  My question though is how much actual climbing or description of the activity is needed for a good book?  Also, what does it say about our chosen activity?  We are all familiar with the term 'type 2 fun'.  Could it be that our activity is less enjoyable than we think and that actually, it is the other stuff that happens (the view, the friendships, the trips away, the expensive gear, the stories in the pub) which draws us back to this sometimes frightening activity again and again?

It's a long time since I read it but I don't remember any of the climbing stuff from learning to breathe by Andy Cave. All the compelling stuff is about mining and the strikes. The best climbers book I've read and I barely have any recollection of climbing in it. 

"You know, Alf, going to the right place, at the right time, with the right people is all that really matters. What one does is purely incidental.”

C. Kirkus

Juxtaposition and context...

A climbing book without subtext would be as dull a.f.

Likewise, a book without climbing or some other ethereal element would also be mundane dross.

The two elements inform each other and resonate into something greater.

Possibly...

Eternally wise words. Yet would he have written them (or even thought them) before 'the fall'? I very much doubt it. 

[To the OP] It's an interesting question. And perhaps one must distinguish between books about climbing and books about climbers. 

For instance, I'd argue that 'The White Cliff' is the best book about British climbing and 'Electric Brae' is the best book about climbers, from a British author. 

Years ago I had an article on here, 'The Golden Age of British Climbing'. The first half wasn't about climbing, but the social context of the Golden Age. 

At the time, this seemed a pretty dangerous thing to do! Half-way through and climbing hasn't been mentioned. But young climbers wrote to me, saying that, for the first time, they'd begun to understand their parents and grandparents. It seemed to matter more to them than lists of routes. 

I'm horribly aware than none of this answers your question. But I don't think it's 'actual climbing' vis a vis other activities. I think it's about viewing the human condition through the lens of climbing. This is what gives climbing writing such a distinctive allure. 

Mick 

I really like most of Andrew Greig's work. I'd read a lot of his fiction, then I read his fishing book, 'At the Loch of the Green Corrie'. My English teacher colleague Gerry,  was also a fan. Sitting in the staff room one day we had this discussion:

Gerry: Have you read his golf book?

Dave: No, you know I'm not a golfer.

Gerry: But you read his fishing book and you're not an angler.

Dave: Aye, but it's not really about fishing, it's about life.

Gerry: Read the golf book, it's not really about golf.

The best books about any activity aren't really about the activity, it's just an excuse for the stuff that really matters.

I read the golf book, it's not really about golf and I loved it.

Firstly, thank you.  Your post indicates a lot of thought behind it.  Genuinely, I am grateful.

I can't speak as a particularly learned individual unfortunately.  There isn't any other field of literature that I can look to in order to compare climbing literature with.  However, your final comment about climbing literature is so rich because it looks at humans through the prism of climbing sounds like it is likely to be true.  It is a strange game we play, where euphoria and terror are closely mingled so it is likely to attract some unusual people bring out some fabulous human responses.

I suppose that the other activity that I sometimes read about is road cycling.  That also has a combination of suffering, sacrifice, occasional disaster and occasional triumph.  That sport also produces well-known characters and worthwhile books.

I wrote my post above before I read yours so there's a coincidence. 

When I said I like most of Greig's output, Electric Brae was the one that stopped me saying I liked all of his stuff. I read it after reading his later works and it feels clunky in comparison so maybe that's why I didn't enjoy it. Or maybe I was just a bit too close to the kind of scene he describes so I can see where it hits the wrong note? Either way, not a bad book but not his best for me.

Learning to breathe was the first climbing book I read, and without knowing it at the time probably the catalyst to starting climbing. I do however remember finishing reading it and having absolutely no concept of how climbing worked or how they managed to protect themselves with a rope without going to the top first to drop one down! It was a long time ago though, so perhaps could be blamed on my reading skills or maybe I missed the page where he explained it all