I read Krakauers "Into Thin Air" some years ago and was really impressed with his writing--especially his ability to make me feel like I was gasping for air when he was writing about being in high up on Everest where the air is thin. It was one the first nonfiction books I'd ever read that was as compelling and entertaining as a good novel.

I recently finished "Into the Wild" and came away impressed again by Krakauer's writing. I consider myself to have a pretty substantial vocabulary, but his writing still left me reaching for a dictionary at times; but I liked that--it's a sign of a writer who isn't afraid to alienate readers who don't want to be challenged.

I knew from the cover that this was the story of Chris McCandless, a bright young man from my area who went into the wild (Alaska) alone and inadequately prepared. What I did not know is that Krakauer was going to weave in countless other stories of men who had made similar treks. It was heartbreaking to read Chris's story and fascinating to see the parallels between Chris and the many others who have gone to Alaska seeking the challenge of the wilderness. I'm not a parent, but I was very touched by a scene with Chris's parents toward the end, and I think this would have to be a tough story to read if you are a parent--especially the parent of a headstrong young man like Chris.

Even though my own seeking for adventure was only to move away from my small town at 18 and go to the big city 400 miles away for a job, I can read this book and certainly relate to the agita I caused my parents. I was one of those kids who didn't share much--who I was dating, where I was going--and it wasn't until I was 50 when I took my mother on a cruise for her 70th birthday that she told me how difficult it was to let me go. Having read this book, I have a lot better understanding of her heartache.

Jon Krakauer has outdone himself with this one (and that is saying something). I went through a half-dozen books of this genre last summer and remain haunted by this one. Christopher McCandless is a tragic figure, but inspirational in many ways. Was he crazy and reckless, or just idealistic and unprepared? Krakauer offers no opinion, and the facts will leave you wondering for a long, long time.

What I found most touching about INTO THE WILD was the care with which Krakauer explored the life story of his subject, Chris McCandless, a young man who chose to live an unconventional life after graduating college by venturing into the Alaskan wilderness and attempting to live on only what he found there. In Krakauer's hands, McCandless is neither a victim nor a foolhardy adventurer. In the end, McCandless is depicted as a human being, like you or me, who has made his own choices; some gave him great joy, others brought about his demise. I also liked the way Krakauer compared McCandless's experiences with that of others in American history who attempted to interface directly with Nature. And I liked that Krakauer vulnerably employed his own experience of undertaking a difficult solo climb up a treacherous Alaskan mountain as a way of helping the reader better understand how relatively normal people come to take on such risks. This is not cold or clever reportage, but a compassionate account of one young man's all-too-brief journey through this world. Oddly, I found this to be a very spiritual book.

I just finished Krakauer's "Into The Wild" and it was another page turner, just like his "Into Thin Air". His narrative style and excellent research make Krakauer one of the best adventure writers in the U.S.

I was somewhat disturbed by one small issue with this book, however. Krakauer refers to Christopher Johnson McCandless (who I like to think of as an adventurer/explorer in the same vein as John Muir and Ansel Adams), as a "boy" at least two dozen times throughout the book. McCandless was a bearded 24-year-old at the time of his death (I believe that if you can grow a beard, you're automatically not a boy). But he was also a graduate of Emory University living on his own. McCandless was not a boy; he was a man, a young man, yes, but he was not a boy. Every time I read Krakauer's reference to McCandless as a "boy", I cringed in bewilderment. I don't think any 24-year-old male would think of himself as a boy. I'll bet Krakauer didn't think of himself as a boy when he was 24 years old. So, what was Krakauer's reasoning? Was it a not-so-subtle means to convey McCandless's naivety? McCandless may have been a bit naive, he may have suffered from hubris and he may have been somewhat foolish when it came to the Alaskan wilderness (he didn't bring a map, he had meager supplies, he didn't let his family know of his whereabouts and when he planned to return, etc.), but by the time he died, McCandless was very experienced at living outdoors, as Krakauer painstakingly conveys when he describes McCandless's two-year post college travels throughout the western U.S. and into northern Mexico. Krakauer even notes on page 85, "McCandless didn't conform particularly well to the bush-casualty sterotype. Although he was rash, untutored in the ways of the backcountry, and incautious to the point of foolhardiness, he wasn't incompetent - he wouldn't have lasted 113 days if he were." This does not describe a "boy" to me. Indeed, in McCandless's brief 24 years, he had more outdoor travel experience than most men do during their entire lifetimes.

Regardless, Krakauer has written another classic book, and I definitely recommend it. In fact, I would have given this book five stars if it weren't for the annoying "boy" reference.

Krakauer dissects the compelling story of Chris McCandless, who lost his life during his self-proclaimed "great Alaskan Odyssey." This is not the story of a boy who lost his life in the wilderness, but rather of Chris McCandless, who in the Wilderness found exactly what he'd been looking for his entire life.

The story, however, is not limited to the life of McCandless. Krakauer breaks into memoir at several points, identifying with McCandless on personal and visceral levels. While his ability to empathize and connect with McCandless helps him write a chilling narrative, it can be reasonably argued that it also sidetracks him. One of the chapters, for example, is exclusively focussed on a personal journey that Krakauer took; McCandless' name is not even mentioned. The final chapter focuses more on Krakauer's personal connection with and interest in McCandless than it does on Chris himself. This is not a fault in the book itself, but an unsuspecting reader may find it to be narcissistic or indulgent.

Krakauer's experiences phenomenally qualify him to tell this story, but the reader should be prepared to find as much psychoanalysis and empathetic insight as he finds factual information and assertions.