W.E. Bowman, The ascent of Rum Doodle, Max Parrish, 1956. Hardback. This copy of this first edition was presented to the Royal Air Force Malta Mountaineering and Ski-ing Club Library in February 1957. On the half-title page the Club Rule, no. 23, pt iv, has been affixed and written as follows: Books may be borrowed from the Club Library by any member of the Club for a period not exceeding two weeks unless with special permission of the Librarian. Thereafter a fine of one penny per day shall be imposed until the book is returned'. A handwritten issue label, with pouch, registers 4 dates out and 3 dates in, the last issue out dated 10/12/57.

A semi-forgotten English comic classic, this spoof mountaineering memoir didn't make much impact when it came out in 1956, and it threatened to disappear altogether when the original publisher went bankrupt a few years later. For a long time it was only available in a kind of samizdat edition produced by a specialist climbing publisher, but it gradually turned into a cult classic among mountaineers. Few people had actually seen it, but everyone knew about it and made knowing references to the title and the number "153", which is a kind of leitmotif in the story.

Rum Doodle's return to the mainstream seems to have been partly precipitated by the accident that Bill Bryson ended up with the Times's discarded review copy of the original edition, enjoyed it, and chanced to mention it favourably in a column some decades later. Bowman's widow got in touch with him, one thing led to another, and eventually a new mainstream edition came out in 2001 with an introduction by Bryson to make sure it didn't go under again.

The book claims to be a straightforward account of the first ascent of the mountain Rum Doodle, elevation 40,000' 6", in the remote Himalayan region of Yogistan, by a team of seven British climbers and their 3000 Yogistani porters (due to a translation error there are actually 30 000 waiting for them initially, but they manage to pay off the superfluous ones). The narrator, the team-leader "Binder", beautifully captures the essential tone of modest heroism, whilst inadvertently revealing to the reader a history of bumbling, incompetence and selfishness in the finest traditions of Three men in a boat. Binder and his companions, attempting to run away from the much feared camp-cook Pong, somehow end up climbing the subsidiary summit North Doodle (some way south of the main summit), whilst another translation mix-up leads to the porters moving Base Camp and the stretcher-bound expedition doctor, aptly named Prone, to the summit of Rum Doodle itself.

Of course, even though the running joke is that the local porters are far fitter, stronger, and more competent and resourceful than the British team members, and end up doing almost all the useful climbing work, seventy years on it's inevitable that some of the jokes about Yogistanis and their culture will seem in rather poor taste. You can't make fun of imperialist attitudes in this sort of context without implicating the reader in those attitudes at least a little bit. And Bowman is firmly in a tradition of humour that is more Edwardian than 1950s, anyway. But within those limits, this is a book that still has a lot of laughs to offer the 21st century reader. Bowman's style is slow-firing, but it gets under your skin.

153 stars. ( )

Though I wouldn't describe it as "one of the funniest books" I'll ever read, (as Bill Bryson blurbed on the cover of the edition I borrowed from the library) this was a fun read with many laugh-out-loud moments. ( )

Not bad. ( )

Funny daft silly likable,great hero in charge! ( )