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'The price of life is death'
For Mallory, as for all of his generation, death was but 'a frail barrier that men crossed, smiling and gallant, every day'. As climbers they accepted a degree of risk unimaginable before the war. What mattered now was how one lived, and the moments of being alive.
While the quest for Mount Everest may have begun as a grand imperial gesture, it ended as a mission of revival for a country and a lost generation bled white by war. In a monumental work of history and adventure, Davis asks not whether George Mallory was the first to reach the summit of Everest, but rather why he kept climbing on that fateful day.
690 pages, Kindle Edition
First published October 6, 2011
[I]t is possible that a drift [from the 1924 storms] accumulated, large enough, if not to bury the cliffs of the Second Step, at least to create a cone covering the most difficult pitches of the rock. Such a scenario did in fact unfold in 1985, albeit in the autumn. Had this been the case, Mallory and Irvine might simply have walked up the snow, traversing the barrier with the very speed and ease that Odell so famously reported. Had this occurred, surely nothing could have held Mallory back. He would have walked on, even to his end, because for him, as for all of his generation, death was but a “frail barrier” that men crossed, “smiling and gallant, every day.” They had seen so much of death that life mattered less than the moments of being alive.



