Reads like an extended new yorker article (or maybe a notch less), marred by some slight repetition of fifth grade science. Streever is a clear sensory-oriented individual, characterizing cold well, but giving rise, as some reviewers have noted, as what may come off as "condescending" prose. ("I am ...
I had to put on my Snuggie while I read this book; we may have global warming, but the places Streever visits in this book are darn cold. This book is just the right mix of travel narrative and armchair philosopher.
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