Killing Dragons: The Conquest of the Alps

by Fergus Fleming

Book Overview

In a riveting narrative of daredevils and eccentrics, Fergus Fleming gives us the breathtaking story of some of history's greatest explorers as they conquer the soaring peaks of the Alps. Fleming... This description may be from another edition of this product.

• Format: Hardcover
• Language: English
• ISBN: 087113778X
• Release Date: February 2001
• Publisher: Atlantic Monthly Press
• Length: 416 Pages
• Weight: 1.60 lbs.
• Dimensions: 9.5" x 1.5" x 6.3"

Customer Reviews

Thoroughly enjoyable, well written survey of alpine exploration (with a somewhat botched finale)

"Killing Dragons" is an engrossing series of portraits of men and mountains woven into a chronology of alpine exploration that spans 150 years. The bulk of the narrative focuses on two big, suggestive mountains - Mont Blanc and the Matterhorn - and their two principal suitors: de Saussure and Whymper. But there are delightful side roles for a whole throng of colourful characters such as Bourrit, Forbes, Tyndall, Ruskin, Stephen and Coolidge. Ultimately it's also a story about how surprisingly quickly and drastically man's relationship to nature can change: in barely two centuries the general mood regarding the mountain world switched from superstitious awe to scientific interest to exploratory zeal to nationalist competition to, ultimately, solipsistic thrill-seeking (which is still the dominant ethos today). Fergus Fleming is a masterful storyteller with a penchant for tongue-in-cheeck humour, quirky details and the burlesque. In one or two cases it's even over the top, as when he inserts a footnote with a deadpan comment of Edward Whymper on the ubiquity of "crétins" (deformed, mentally handicapped people) and goitre sufferers in rural Alpine communities: "Let them be formed into regiments by themselves, brigaded together, and commanded by cretins. Think what esprit de corps they would have! Who could stand against them? Who would understand their tactics?" An example of a more successful gag comes when Fleming comments on the death of Coolidge who, after the demise of his beloved aunt Meta Brevoort, withdrew and became and quarrelsome, exasperatingly punctilious Alpine historian. Fleming: "An imp of perversity was loose in Grindelwald that season - either that or the Swiss possessed a keener sense of humour than they were normally credited with - for the great pedant was given an exquisitely apt send-off. The 'Echo of Grindelwald" misspelled his name in its official notice, the authorities put the wrong age on his headstone and the carver missed out the the 'u' in 'mountains'." The book is full of these kinds of hilarious observations. (Incidentally, Fleming himself may have something of Coolidge's pedantry as he is remarkably scrupulous about spelling of French and Germain toponyms throughout the book). On the whole, Fleming does an admirable job in weaving the locales, the societal trends, the climbing epics, the individual characters and their relationships and rivalries into a rich tapestry. My only complaint is that this book refers only in passing to and omits a more extensive discussion on Albert Mummery, an important and colourful character who heralded a new era in mountaineering. His remarkable ascents on the great Alpine peaks (Zmutt ridge on the Matterhorn, amongst many others) and his fantastic daring to be the very first to attack a Himalayan 8.000 meter peak (already in 1895!) would have been a more fitting and logical conclusion to this very British epic than the unsavoury story of the German siege on the north face of the

Suprised to see only three stars

I am surprised to see only a 3-star rating average currently for this book. I thought it was an engrossing read for anyone with an interest in the history and development of alpinism in general and tourism in the Alps. I had recently read Trevor Braham's "When The Alps Cast Their Spell" which left me cold. Despite it winning the Boardman Tasker Prize I found it dense and dull. Starting into Fleming's Killing Dragons I was wondering why I was reading a book that covered so much of same ground, and expected to more or less skim through it, but I soon found myself hooked. Braham focused on the players: each chapter is centered on one major figure from the era. Fleming instead works chronologically through the development of the key mountains and towns, and, although he does attach the narrative to each character for a time (especially to Whymper), he really follows the succession of challenges: Mount Blanc, the Matterhorn, the Meije, the Eiger Nordwand. This structure lets him write a book that maintains a sense of suspense and drama that is rare in non-fiction.

Almost entirely Mount Blanc & the Matterhorn

It was hard to decide whether to give this book four stars or five. The book isn't anywhere near to being a complete history of the conquest of the alps (con), but what is here is extremely well-written and interesting stuff which I could barely put down (pro) even though it's a pretty hefty 360 pages in all.The first half of the book (176 pgs) is devoted to Mount Blanc, starting in prehistory, working up to its first ascent in 1786, and then continuing on up til the mid-nineteenth century. More than just the climbs themselves enters into the story. Fleming is as much concerned with the philosophical and cultural meaning of the exploits as with the exploits themselves. So he tries to give us a feel for their context in the wider scheme of things and what the people were like who were doing these things. The amount and variety of material which Fleming has researched and brought into the mix is what makes the reading so fascinating. There's everything from what the mountain villages were like to the scientific debate over why glaciers move.Most of the second half of the book concerns itself with the eventual first ascent of the Matterhorn (1865) and the events surrounding it in the decade before. If Mount Blanc was all about ice, the Matterhorn is obviously all about rock. The author's obviously British perspective weighs heavily in here, which is where we get the most info on first ascents other than the two principals -- esp. if they were done by Whymper as warm-ups for the big prize.Only the last twenty pages or so is devoted to the "modern" (post-Mummery) era, and the concentration so far as the detail is concerned is on the Eiger North Face.So even if the coverage is much more limited than I would have preferred, Fleming is such an accomplished story-teller that I could recommend this to climbers and non-mountaineers alike.

Both informative and fascinating

In Killing Dragons: The Conquest Of The Alps, Fergus Fleming recounts the incredible exploits of the men who explored Europe's most famous and dangerous mountain range. French and Swiss scientists tackled the peaks in the late 18th century seeking to learn more about the atmosphere, earth's origins, and glaciers. By the 1850s this scientific pursuit had evolved into a fierce competition between British climbers. The climbers became celebrities seeking to climb ever higher and more impossible mountains -- while trading quips and barbs and in public press. Stories of the climbers valor, rivalries, egos, and disasters become the substance of popular interest. Highly recommended reading that is both informative and fascinating, Killing Dragons tells how the great Alpine mountains fell to these colorful, eccentric climbers and is a "must" for anyone who has ever contemplated the adventure and sport of mountaineering.

Exploring the Alps

The author of "Barrow's Boys" has once again written an extremely interesting work that deals, mainly, with British eccentrics doing unusual things: this time they are exploring, and climbing, the Alps. I found the subject very compelling, because I have always had a desire to see the Matterhorn, a desire that began when I saw, as a young boy, Walt Disney's "Third Man On The Mountain". Having lived one winter in Denver, I loved going into the Rockies and just looking around, and observing the majesty of creation. This work is a very good introduction to the beginning of mountaineering in Europe, and is suitable for the general reader. Anyone who considers themselves learned in the field will probably not like this work, but I enjoy learning something new in everything I read, and this book certainly gave me that type of information. There were a few typos scattered here and there, but they didn't detract from my pleasure in reading this work. The writing style is casual, and it's something worth reading if you love mountains, and like hearing about the odd and determined people who climb them.