[A] modest-sized opus ... In straightforward but evocative prose, Grann captures the drama and sheer audacity of his subject’s forays into forbidding places – where one of the many ways to die is simply to get wet ... For all of its page-turning appeal, the book studiously avoids psychological speculation on what compels its subject to repeatedly to place himself in harm’s way. Grann doesn’t openly address the possibility of inner demons, but he drops hints here and there...Fascinating.
Unlike Worsley’s grueling advance across an inhospitable continent, Grann’s prose moves at a brisk pace. Polar journeys are inevitably stories of monotony — the endless treks over unchanging landscape, the interminable periods of downtime waiting against the weather — but The White Darkness proceeds aplomb, with a style that conveys the immensity of Antarctica and the difficulty of Worsley’s journeys without ever bogging down. At times, the pace is a little too quick: Worsley’s second polar expedition in 2012 is covered in only two paragraphs. The photographs help fill in some of these gaps ... With more space, Grann might have delved into the historical and political implications of such a gripping yarn...
Grann infuses with the suspense of a thriller ... What makes The White Darkness so compelling is Grann’s gift for memorable detail...and Grann is expert at making readers feel as if they are on the journey with the team ... gripping.
Given its brevity, one wonders whether author and publisher are trying to capitalize on the earlier best seller [The Lost City of Z] ... While The White Darkness is cleanly written, smoothly weaving together Worsley’s story with Shackleton’s, I believe it should have been published as part of an omnibus volume... I find charging 20 dollars for its current incarnation — a skimpy narrative padded out with 53 color photos — somewhat disquieting ... Comparing The White Darkness to Grann’s excellent The Lost City of Z makes the new book seem even slighter. Though it also began life as a New Yorker article, The Lost City of Z is a real book.
Mr. Grann ably conjures the rasp of sled runner on ice and the skin burn of minus-40—and that’s before wind chill is factored in—and he understands the importance of specificity and detail ... began life as an article in the New Yorker—Mr. Grann is a staff writer—and it still is an article, really ... A touch of hagiography clings to the tale. Mr. Grann aims to make his subject a hero but sometimes diminishes him with platitudes and cliché ... The style is pleasant, if at times sentimental.
... [a] rich, tight narrative of Worsley’s polar exploits ... But if Grann is a fine storyteller, he’s no psychoanalyst, though he will give a couple of peeks into the more mysterious forces that drove Worsley.
