By James Ratlif
Sometimes actions speak a lot louder than words. Mortenson’s wonderful personal journey from personal grief (and a terrible mountaineering experience coming down from the fearsome K2) to a career of school building is a real modern day story of heroics. Mortenson’s working style is freewheeling, chaotic and amazingly effective, and I can appreciate that David Relin had one hell of a time trying to fit the moving jigsaw together into one inspiring picture. But I’m not alone in feeling that Relin’s writing looks a bit like spin doctoring in many places throughout the book. He’s not objective enough, and that means that he’s robbed us of the chance to make our own judgement. The admiration we’ll undoubtedly feel for Mortenson has been pre-packaged for us. Relin’s applause sign goes up before we can break into our own spontaneous ovation. Damn!
His writing is overwrought in many places, trying to amplify a sense of drama that is already there in the story. In places Relin tries to elevate Mortenson by backhandedly dismissing the work of others – writing of Ed Hillary’s school building projects in Nepal as relatively easy accomplishments. Tell that to the teams who went over and built those schools, rock by rock. Surely the world stage is big enough for both men. Relin does a disservice (to Mortenson and others) by trying to reserve the pedestal for his subject alone.
What I found most fascinating in this book is the amount of negotiation and trust-building undertaken by Mortenson, and the degree of responsibility he willingly puts in the hands of the communities he assists. This is a story that works at a political, social and personal level: a tale of unconditional love but inside the complex family of humanity – with all our biases, foibles, bigotries and mistrusts. What a mighty story as we watch these problems overcome.
No, I don’t think the story was told particularly well, but that doesn’t diminish the experience for the reader. The actions speak louder than the words.