If it weren’t for the subtitle “In The Grip of Avalanches” this title would be a good description of me – I love snow, always have, even enjoy shoveling it, and am working on whole page on just snow on my website.


But anyway, this book is fascinating, and with the recent avalanche deaths in the news, timely. Jill Fredston grew up outside New York City, so didn’t see as much snow as a kid as, say, Alaskan kids did, but was always fascinated by it, and studied it throughout school. She became an avalanche expert, both advising people when there is danger, assisting in rescues and recoveries, and analyzing data after an event.


The whole book is laced with stories – both tragedies and triumphs, that bring the very human element to the story, and keep it from being dry or scholarly. The way she can describe the types of snow, the importance of temperature and humidity, how snow changes and evolves once it is on the ground, how to tell the difference between a lovely skiable slope and a brutally dangerous one make a fascinating book.


Her husband is also an avalanche expert, and she describes all she learns from him, the journey of their relationship changing from that of mentor and student to a marriage. Having someone else who understands the frailty of human life, and the hazards of the mountains seems important to maintaining a grip on sanity amidst the chaos and danger.


I got this at the BEA in 2005, and unlike most books, never gave it away after reading it. I live in Massachusetts. It snows here. And while I live nowhere near any avalanche zone – stuff gets plowed here, and the hills are just hills in Newton, snow in all its varieties interests me.


Every skier, snowmobiler and winter sports should be required to read this book. And even those who curse that white stuff while shoveling out after yet another storm might enjoy it, too.


And you will learn what neighborhoods NEVER to move into, too. How anyone could build a life and a home at the bottom of an avalanche zone seems insane to me, but before reading this book, I might never, in summer, have considered how the breathtakingly beautiful mountains and green slopes behind me might be heartache waiting to happen.

Sounds depressing from the title I gave this post, doesn’t it? I expected it to be horribly sad and frankly didn’t really want to read it, but I make myself at least try to read whatever I pull out of a box. I have been through watching elderly loved ones die, as I grew up surrounded by a host of Great Aunts and Great Uncles from all sides of the family. And I have seen Alzheimer’s take someone from us, piece by piece, bit by bit.

But this book was very well done. The author’s father is the one with Alzheimer’s disease, and she does a good job interspersing childhood memories with daily reality as his illness progresses, through his death and the aftermath. She gives us her sister and her mother’s viewpoints as well, as they deal with her great tall father becoming less and less capable and less predictable day by day. The love they share for him clearly sustains all three woman, and even though the book has its sad times, and we witness the frustration and anger both her father and family go through, it never becomes bogged down. Poetry, news articles and even music are included to both help the reader understand, and shift the mood of the piece. What is well done is that different voices are set in different fonts, but it is all subtly done, so your brain picks up – “Ah, childhood memory” without a hammer blow telling you. So kudos to the typesetter and designer as well.

The book is honest, clear, and a decent read, especially if you like memoirs. Don’t let the subject matter keep you away, as it almost did me.