Matthiessen writes proses as poetry. A magical combination of travel, nature and Buddhist thinking that brings the reader along a heartfelt journey
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“Behind and below, among swirls made by snow gleam and the ice-broken black brook, a surreal figure very like my own pursues me across the vast floor of the mountains. It crosses the shining boulders, coming on with slow, portentous step. The sight of this figure brings a small foreboding, as if it were the self of dreams who seeks me out with the coming of the day at the black labyrinthine river, in dead whiteness.”

Published in 1978, this book is the author’s memoir of his journey to the Himalayas to search for the elusive snow leopard. Accompanied by biologist George Schaller, porters, and Sherpas, he crossed mountains to reach the remote region of Dolpo, Nepal on the Tibetan plateau. Along the way he describes his spiritual quest based on the principles of Zen Buddhism in the wake of his wife’s death from cancer. It contains atmospheric nature and travel writing. It is filled with philosophical musings. It is written in the form of a daily diary from September 28 to December 1, 1973. Matthiessen’s detailed descriptions provide the reader with a sense of the stark beauty of the region, the harsh weather conditions, and the manner in which the people live. I particularly enjoyed their visit to the monastery at Crystal Mountain. It is a book where the journey is more important than the destination.

“In worrying about the future, I despoil the present.”
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I really enjoyed this book learning a lot about snow leopards (Panthera uncia), bharal (Pseudois nayaur), the Himalayas, and the Nepalese people. The main reason why I wanted to read this book so bad was because the snow leopard has been on of my favorite animals since childhood. And even though Peter Matthiessen wasn't a mammologist he had Dr. George Schaller as a travel companion through the whole journey.

Side Note: The author of this book, Peter Matthiessen, happened to be a classmate of my paternal grandfather's at both Hotchkiss and Yale. ( )

What I most thought of in reading this book was its year of publication: 1978. Both because of the ecological crisis Matthiessen portrays (good god, what must it be like now, more than 30 years on?! Is it all lost?) and because of the very distinctive 1970s male sensibility in his work-- which might not even be perceptible to a reader who is not of Matthiessen's generation, as I am. A kind of sturdy and guiltless self-absorption that is likely no longer available to us fallen children is both nostalgic and a little nightmarish, to a woman who's lived with guys like this for a few decades. ( )

Very disappointing. This sounds like it should be a thought-provoking, engaging book in the manner of Bruce Chatwin or Patrick Leigh Fermor, but it is a dull ramble. Though there is some good writing at the beginning and end of the book, the majority flits between joyless travelogue and pseudo new journalism. ( )