Tausend Gipfel und noch mehr, by Karl Lukan. Salzburg/Stuttgart: Verlag Das Bergland-Buch, 1960. 275 pages, with 21 plate. Sw. Fr. 22.80. The author of three earlier successful mountaineering books, here relates entertaining adventures on many peaks between Vienna and Grenoble. It is one of the most charming books that has come before this reviewer. The writer is a born story-teller, who offers his climbing career as a quest and a pattern of life. He does this tenderly and humorously, and anyone who reads German will find it delightful. This can best be shown by a few quotations:

"There are little rocks to climb in the Wienerwald, and some bear the names of great peaks far away: Matterhorn, La Meije. The Meije in the Wienerwald is scarcely ten metres high, and when I was very small I came upon it by chance. An old climber sat at its foot, smoking a pipe. Who was this 'Lamesch,’ I wanted to know, and was surprised to find that it was not named for Herr Lamesch (president of a climbing group, or the inventor of a special knot), but for a mountain, one of the most difficult in the Alps. 'I would like to climb such a peak,’ I said, enthralled. 'So would I!’ said the old man softly. 'Three times I was at the Promontoire hut and each time the weather beat down. Now I am too old. Life is so short.’ There were bird songs in the air, the soft rustle of leaves, the distance laughter of Sunday excursionists. But there was another voice, my inner voice. I knew that this short life was good to use, and as soon as I was able I would climb the real Meije. All the while the smoke from the pipe of the old mountaineer rose slowly across the rocks of the scarcely ten-metre La Meije of the Wienerwald.”

Transportation: "Once people needed only air, bread and water to sustain life—today they require an auto. Even my friend Schwanda has an auto. He needs it so that Sunday after Sunday he can go to the mountains. All he knows about it is that it has four wheels and that one rides when the machine will run. But it is all important that it takes one to the mountains.”

The wife comes along. "Many people say to her 'Aha, you are a climber because your husband is!’ This puts her into a frenzy (fuchsteufelswild) and she advances the clever theory that she would go climbing even if her husband was a passionate fisherman or a notable butterfly collector.”

Path finding in fog. " 'Children, we are on the route! There is a sardine box!’ This was an illusion, much as if the Man in the Moon concluded from the remains of a space-rocket that it was not far to the next tavern, with roast chicken and ice-cold beer. 'But we must be somewhere!’ said oracle Schwanda, the Man in the Mist. Of course, he was right. We were somewhere. But where?”

Storm on the Planspitze. "It grew dark around us, like the last five minutes before the end of the world. We discovered a low cleft where we could stretch at full length, but this time we quite forgot to put the hardware to one side. 'I have it under my stomach, where lightning will not find it so easily,’ said Hansl in comforting tones. 'Do you really think lightning searches around like a small boy hunting Easter eggs?’ I asked. This agitated Hansl, who wriggled nervously at every flash, as if he were lying on an ant-heap.”

And so it goes, even through the second half of the book, which is entirely devoted to the Meije. If one were marooned in a hut for a week, this book would make time pass quickly.

J. Monroe Thorington