Into Thin Air by Jon Krakauer [Book Review]

Into Thin Air is a harrowing, first-person account of the 1996 Everest disaster that reads like a thriller—because it really happened.

It always feels strange to say you loved a book that revolves around real-life tragedy, but here we are. I absolutely devoured Into Thin Air, and I’m still trying to shake it off.

Let’s rewind for a second. I remember watching the movie Everest years ago and thinking, “Wow, that story is brutal.” I vaguely recall the Jon Krakauer character in the film, but I somehow forgot the crucial detail that he was actually there. I’d read his other work—Into the Wild, Under the Banner of Heaven—and just assumed this was another piece of well-researched journalism from a safe distance. Nope. This time, Krakauer was right there on the mountain, in the storm, living through the nightmare.

A Personal Lens on a Public Tragedy

And that’s what makes this book hit so hard. It’s not just the horror of what happened in May 1996, though there’s plenty of that—it’s the emotional wreckage Krakauer carries with him. He’s not shy about his guilt, his missteps, or his lasting trauma. You don’t get the sense he wrote this book to be praised or even forgiven; it reads more like a man trying to process something unimaginable, with the rest of us along for the climb.

Because it’s told from Krakauer’s perspective, the book’s been criticized for being biased—and sure, it probably is. But it’s also deeply reflective, and he goes out of his way to give credit where it’s due (especially to the Sherpas, whose efforts were nothing short of heroic). He even avoids easy blame when it comes to high-profile figures like Sandy Pittman, the socialite who brought an espresso machine to base camp (yes, really). The afterword is essential reading—particularly the parts addressing Anatoli Boukreev and G. Weston DeWalt’s counter-narrative. Krakauer gets into where he may have gone wrong, why he stands by his version, and how this story is far more complicated than any single person’s account.

Adventure, Guilt, and the Mountain That Changed Everything

Honestly, this book reads like a disaster thriller—except every harrowing step, every chilling decision, actually happened. Krakauer’s writing is immersive and propulsive, and because he lived it, the emotional weight feels heavier and more immediate. I found myself holding my breath at times, fully aware of what was coming but somehow hoping, irrationally, that the ending would change.

Reading this has inspired me to stay far from Everest. If I wasn’t before, I’m now firmly on Team “Wow, Good for You, But Absolutely Not.” Still, I envy those who summit—not because I want to do it—but because it feels like touching something sacred, something few people ever get close to. And those who survive? They carry that experience forever.

So, if you haven’t read Into Thin Air, do it. Grab a copy with the afterword if you can. This is my favorite of Krakauer’s work so far—and I don’t say that lightly. It’s gutting, gripping, and unforgettable.

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