West with the Night
by Beryl Markham
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This beautifully written autobiography brings us the remarkable life story of Beryl Markham, the first person to fly solo across the Atlantic from east to west. Brought up on a farm in Kenya, Markham chose to stay in Africa when, at seventeen, her father lost their farm and went to Peru. She began an apprenticeship as a racehorse trainer which turned into a highly successful career. In her twenties, Markham gave up horses for airplanes and became the first woman in East Africa to be granted show more a commercial pilot's license, piloting passengers and supplies in a small plane to remote corners of Africa. As rich and inspiring as when it was first written, West with the Night captures the spirit of a true pioneer woman.. show less
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Beryl Markham approaches the story of her remarkable life with the mindset of a literary novelist and the result, West with the Night, possesses all the advantages and drawbacks of such a strategy. The book is often lacking as autobiography – it omits or undersells a great many important events and relationships in Markham's life, and its non-linear, anecdotal approach allows for little appreciation of the chronological arc of her life. A novelist, in comparison to a memoirist or diarist, is more reticent about being part of the story. They put themselves into the writing, of course – it cannot be helped – but they leave much unrevealed about their character. A memoirist, in contrast, is meant to deliver their whole personal show more character on the page; Markham, whether consciously or not, chooses the approach of the novelist.
It has mixed results, but largely positive ones. The narrative can be disorientingly vague at times and, like many a first-time writer, Markham tries some things which don't come off. For the most part her writing is pleasingly clean and understated, but some lines which are meant to sound regal instead sound inflated. That said, such lines are relatively few, and for the most part Markham delivers exemplary prose. Ernest Hemingway praised the book, saying its author could 'write rings around all of us', and Markham certainly possesses keen powers of observation, writing particularly vividly about animals, aviation and Africa. You can be reading the book through at times, only to suddenly realise that she's just told you a really immersive story in an understated way. More than any autobiographical achievements – and Markham certainly led an impressive life – it is these immaculate examples of anecdotal writing which I will remember most about West with the Night. show less
It has mixed results, but largely positive ones. The narrative can be disorientingly vague at times and, like many a first-time writer, Markham tries some things which don't come off. For the most part her writing is pleasingly clean and understated, but some lines which are meant to sound regal instead sound inflated. That said, such lines are relatively few, and for the most part Markham delivers exemplary prose. Ernest Hemingway praised the book, saying its author could 'write rings around all of us', and Markham certainly possesses keen powers of observation, writing particularly vividly about animals, aviation and Africa. You can be reading the book through at times, only to suddenly realise that she's just told you a really immersive story in an understated way. More than any autobiographical achievements – and Markham certainly led an impressive life – it is these immaculate examples of anecdotal writing which I will remember most about West with the Night. show less
Dit is een overweldigend mooi boek, al krijg ik niet goed op een rijtje waarom ik het zo goed vind. Hoewel Markhams belevenissen avontuurlijk zijn, is het aspect ‘avontuur’ zeker niet doorslaggevend voor mijn appreciatie. Het boek is prachtig geschreven en de opbouw van het verhaal is vlekkeloos, maar ook dat is niet bepalend. Misschien is het toch in de eerste plaats de open blik waarmee de auteur naar alles en iedereen kijkt die je zo voor haar inneemt. Het boek speelt grotendeels in Brits Oost-Afrika, het huidige Kenia, in de eerste decennia van de twintigste eeuw, en – hoewel zij subtiel aangeeft hoe de Afrikaanse speelkameraad uit haar jeugd zijn sociale positie tegenover haar aanpast eens zij volwassen zijn (door haar anders show more aan te spreken) – toch is er op geen enkel moment ook maar iets te merken van koloniale superioriteit of neerbuigendheid. Het lijkt wel of Beryl Markham de eigenheid en de kracht van natuur, dier en mens niet alleen perfect aanvoelde maar er zich spontaan ook helemaal op instelde. Het is merkwaardig dat de auteur niets zegt over haar moeder, haar drie echtgenoten of haar zoon, maar dat stoort helemaal niet. Haar vader, die haar op vierjarige leeftijd als enig kind meenam naar Brits Oost-Afrika, komt wel voor in het boek. Ook hij neemt geen centrale plaats in. De weinige korte en zakelijke vader-dochter passages tonen echter op indrukwekkende wijze de onverbrekelijke band tussen hen beiden.
Met dank aan De Arbeiderspers voor deze nieuwe uitgave. show less
Met dank aan De Arbeiderspers voor deze nieuwe uitgave. show less
What a joy of a book! In "West with the Night," Beryl Markham tells the stories of her youth, culminating with her flight, referred to in the title, from England to North America.
Her stories are amazing. Markham grew up in Kenya in the early 1900s--she and her father relocated there when she was four. Her father was a farmer and mostly a thoroughbred horse breeder and trainer. She learned to hunt from the tribal leaders living near the family's farm when she was just a girl. At 17 after her father went bankrupt and decided to move to Peru, she chose to stay in Africa and make her own way, which she did by becoming a horse trainer like her father. Finally, she was drawn to become a pilot and taught to fly by a man who would become a show more famous British pilot, Tom Black.
I enjoyed Markham's writing and vivid descriptions of Africa and flying and of the people and animals that she was close to. There is a excerpt from a letter on the back cover of my book from Ernest Hemingway to his editor. He writes, "Did you read Beryl Markham's book, "West with the Night?" I knew her fairly well in Africa and never would have suspected that she could and would put pen to paper except to write in her flyer's log book. As it is, she has written so well, and marvelously well, that I was completely ashamed of myself as a writer...I wish you would get it and read it because it is really a bloody wonderful book." High praise indeed! show less
Her stories are amazing. Markham grew up in Kenya in the early 1900s--she and her father relocated there when she was four. Her father was a farmer and mostly a thoroughbred horse breeder and trainer. She learned to hunt from the tribal leaders living near the family's farm when she was just a girl. At 17 after her father went bankrupt and decided to move to Peru, she chose to stay in Africa and make her own way, which she did by becoming a horse trainer like her father. Finally, she was drawn to become a pilot and taught to fly by a man who would become a show more famous British pilot, Tom Black.
I enjoyed Markham's writing and vivid descriptions of Africa and flying and of the people and animals that she was close to. There is a excerpt from a letter on the back cover of my book from Ernest Hemingway to his editor. He writes, "Did you read Beryl Markham's book, "West with the Night?" I knew her fairly well in Africa and never would have suspected that she could and would put pen to paper except to write in her flyer's log book. As it is, she has written so well, and marvelously well, that I was completely ashamed of myself as a writer...I wish you would get it and read it because it is really a bloody wonderful book." High praise indeed! show less
This is the second time that I've read this book, and it's been one of my favorite books since I first read it about 25 years ago. Beryl is a very modern woman living in Africa in the 1920s, embracing a spirit of adventure, and rising to challenges. She opens the book by identifying it as a memoir and not an autobiography, and her writing draws the reader into the tapestry of her memory so that we can relive the adventures along with her. It's no wonder that Hemingway praised this book - there's a lot to admire in the writing and the woman who wrote it.
Reason read: TIOLI, adventure, ROOT, alpha
I mostly enjoyed this memoir or autobiography by Beryl Markham. So impressive to have been an independent woman in Africa, trainer of race horses, and a pilot. Not in the ordinary sense of pilots nowadays but in a time when flying was relatively new and Africa quite wild. She flew alone, had her own business. She delivered and she scouted elephants for game hunting. I didn't like to hear about the hunting of the elephants but she really wasn't pro killing of elephants but did not see a reason not to get paid to scout them. The book title is from her last flight recorded in the book which was an effort to fly solo across the Atlantic, west with the night.
I mostly enjoyed this memoir or autobiography by Beryl Markham. So impressive to have been an independent woman in Africa, trainer of race horses, and a pilot. Not in the ordinary sense of pilots nowadays but in a time when flying was relatively new and Africa quite wild. She flew alone, had her own business. She delivered and she scouted elephants for game hunting. I didn't like to hear about the hunting of the elephants but she really wasn't pro killing of elephants but did not see a reason not to get paid to scout them. The book title is from her last flight recorded in the book which was an effort to fly solo across the Atlantic, west with the night.
On the back cover of [West with the Night] is an encomium from Ernest Hemingway:
I knew her [Beryl Markham] in Africa and never would have suspected that she could and would put pen to paper except to write in her flyer's log book. As it is, she has written so well, and marvelously well, that I was completely ashamed of myself as a writer...But [she] can write rings around all of us who consider ourselves as writers....[R]ead it because it is really a bloody wonderful book.
I do agree with Hem on this. I give West with the Night both thumbs up. It is a wonderful book.
Markham's memoir begins with a tale of rescue. She's awakened by a messenger bringing a request from a remote encampment to fly in with a tank of oxygen to save a desperately show more sick gold miner. Oxygen strapped into the passenger seat of her biplane, she flies in the dark to the spot where a few torches delineate a very rough landing strip. She's confident she can land her plane, but questions whether she'll be able to take off from so short a strip. She needs to get airborne by daylight to continue a search for a fellow aviator who is presumed down. It's the life of a pioneering flier in a vast and largely unexplored, unmapped country.
Africa is mystic; it is wild; it is a sweltering inferno; it is a photographer's paradise, a hunter's Valhalla, an escapist's Utopia. It is what you will, and it withstands all interpretations. It is the last vestige of a dead world or a cradle of a shiny new one. To a lot of people, as to myself, it is just "home." It is all these things but one thing—it is never dull.
Born in England, Beryl moves at the age of 4 with her father, an accomplished thoroughbred trainer, to what was then (in the early 1900s) British East Africa, now Kenya. There's no farmhouse on the farm he establishes, only individual huts for himself and his daughter. While her father tends to business, Beryl learns about her new homeland from the children of the native workers. She follows two boys along their path to manhood, which will be completed when the two are circumcised. As part of their maturation, the three, along with Beryl's dog Buller, venture into the bush to hunt warthogs, armed only with spears and bush knives. Lions are confronted.
From her father she learns about horses and how to train them. A drought destroys her father's farm, he heads to Peru, and at age 17, Beryl is on her own, running a training stable, a venture that peaks in a race expected to be dominated by a stallion named Wrack, a horse she trained until its owner succumbed to a fear-mongering rival trainer. No 17-year-old girl could successfully prepare a winner. She preps a different horse, a filly named Wise Child. The race is thrilling, as is Markham's narration. "Wrack is a picture of driving power—Wise Child a study in coordination of muscle and bone and nerve. She's fast, she's smooth. She's smooth as a blade. She cuts the daylight between Wrack and herself to a hand's breadth—to a hair's breath—to nothing."
Sometime later she turns to flying, inspired by a pioneering flier named Tom Black who glides into Nairobi carrying "a message of enterprise, a cargo of pain, and a vessel of death." A pair of hunters cornered a lion and shot it, the pilot tells Beryl, and Beryl tells us.
He was an old lion, prepared from birth to lose his life rather than leave it. But he had the dignity of all free creatures, and so he was allowed his moment. It was hardly a glorious moment…[The hunters] shot him without killing him, and then turned the unconscionable eye of a camera upon his agony. It was a small, a stupid, but a callous crime.
When Tom Black...landed...at the camp site near Muscoma, one man lay dead and a second, mangled and helpless, was alive only by the caprice of chance.
Black educates Markham as a pilot. She buys a plane and begins a career as a free-lance aviator, ferrying machine parts, critical supplies, and other cargo to isolated towns and encampments. She shared flying and hunting adventures with a variety of men, particularly Denys Hatton-Finch and Baron von Blixen. These two were introduced in 1938 in the pages of the novel [Out of Africa], written by Baron von Blixen's wife Karen, better known to the literary world as Isak Dinesen. Eventually tiring of her African business and drawn to England, she flies north. In England, Markham finds a new venture, flying east from England to America, and a financial backer who has a plane built for the flight. And she does make it to Nova Scotia before fuel-system icing ends the flight.
A wonderful book it is. show less
I knew her [Beryl Markham] in Africa and never would have suspected that she could and would put pen to paper except to write in her flyer's log book. As it is, she has written so well, and marvelously well, that I was completely ashamed of myself as a writer...But [she] can write rings around all of us who consider ourselves as writers....[R]ead it because it is really a bloody wonderful book.
I do agree with Hem on this. I give West with the Night both thumbs up. It is a wonderful book.
Markham's memoir begins with a tale of rescue. She's awakened by a messenger bringing a request from a remote encampment to fly in with a tank of oxygen to save a desperately show more sick gold miner. Oxygen strapped into the passenger seat of her biplane, she flies in the dark to the spot where a few torches delineate a very rough landing strip. She's confident she can land her plane, but questions whether she'll be able to take off from so short a strip. She needs to get airborne by daylight to continue a search for a fellow aviator who is presumed down. It's the life of a pioneering flier in a vast and largely unexplored, unmapped country.
Africa is mystic; it is wild; it is a sweltering inferno; it is a photographer's paradise, a hunter's Valhalla, an escapist's Utopia. It is what you will, and it withstands all interpretations. It is the last vestige of a dead world or a cradle of a shiny new one. To a lot of people, as to myself, it is just "home." It is all these things but one thing—it is never dull.
Born in England, Beryl moves at the age of 4 with her father, an accomplished thoroughbred trainer, to what was then (in the early 1900s) British East Africa, now Kenya. There's no farmhouse on the farm he establishes, only individual huts for himself and his daughter. While her father tends to business, Beryl learns about her new homeland from the children of the native workers. She follows two boys along their path to manhood, which will be completed when the two are circumcised. As part of their maturation, the three, along with Beryl's dog Buller, venture into the bush to hunt warthogs, armed only with spears and bush knives. Lions are confronted.
From her father she learns about horses and how to train them. A drought destroys her father's farm, he heads to Peru, and at age 17, Beryl is on her own, running a training stable, a venture that peaks in a race expected to be dominated by a stallion named Wrack, a horse she trained until its owner succumbed to a fear-mongering rival trainer. No 17-year-old girl could successfully prepare a winner. She preps a different horse, a filly named Wise Child. The race is thrilling, as is Markham's narration. "Wrack is a picture of driving power—Wise Child a study in coordination of muscle and bone and nerve. She's fast, she's smooth. She's smooth as a blade. She cuts the daylight between Wrack and herself to a hand's breadth—to a hair's breath—to nothing."
Sometime later she turns to flying, inspired by a pioneering flier named Tom Black who glides into Nairobi carrying "a message of enterprise, a cargo of pain, and a vessel of death." A pair of hunters cornered a lion and shot it, the pilot tells Beryl, and Beryl tells us.
He was an old lion, prepared from birth to lose his life rather than leave it. But he had the dignity of all free creatures, and so he was allowed his moment. It was hardly a glorious moment…[The hunters] shot him without killing him, and then turned the unconscionable eye of a camera upon his agony. It was a small, a stupid, but a callous crime.
When Tom Black...landed...at the camp site near Muscoma, one man lay dead and a second, mangled and helpless, was alive only by the caprice of chance.
Black educates Markham as a pilot. She buys a plane and begins a career as a free-lance aviator, ferrying machine parts, critical supplies, and other cargo to isolated towns and encampments. She shared flying and hunting adventures with a variety of men, particularly Denys Hatton-Finch and Baron von Blixen. These two were introduced in 1938 in the pages of the novel [Out of Africa], written by Baron von Blixen's wife Karen, better known to the literary world as Isak Dinesen. Eventually tiring of her African business and drawn to England, she flies north. In England, Markham finds a new venture, flying east from England to America, and a financial backer who has a plane built for the flight. And she does make it to Nova Scotia before fuel-system icing ends the flight.
A wonderful book it is. show less
"To see ten thousand animals untamed and not branded with the symbols of human commerce is like scaling an unconquered mountain for the first time, or like finding a forest without roads or footpaths, or the blemish of an axe.
You know then what you had always been told — that the world once lived and grew without adding machines and newsprint and brick-walled streets and the tyranny of clocks."
This is a really good, very nice idiosyncratic style and just a remarkable life Markham led. Still it does seem oddly impersonal, you’d might think reading this that she never had any romantic relationships.
But a quick glance at reviews of the biography of her, proves that that was very much not the case, there’s also some question show more apparently of whether she wrote all this herself.
Hadn’t planned on reading that biography, those aren't usually my thing but this is a such a fascinating but obviously incomplete picture of Beryl Markham i’m feeling a little compelled too. I would definitely recommend reading this first though. Really good stuff.
“You can live a lifetime and, at the end of it, know more about other people than you know about yourself.
You learn to watch other people, but you never watch yourself because you strive against loneliness. If you read a book, or shuffle a deck of cards, or care for a dog, you are avoiding yourself.
The abhorrence of loneliness is as natural as wanting to live at all.” show less
You know then what you had always been told — that the world once lived and grew without adding machines and newsprint and brick-walled streets and the tyranny of clocks."
This is a really good, very nice idiosyncratic style and just a remarkable life Markham led. Still it does seem oddly impersonal, you’d might think reading this that she never had any romantic relationships.
But a quick glance at reviews of the biography of her, proves that that was very much not the case, there’s also some question show more apparently of whether she wrote all this herself.
Hadn’t planned on reading that biography, those aren't usually my thing but this is a such a fascinating but obviously incomplete picture of Beryl Markham i’m feeling a little compelled too. I would definitely recommend reading this first though. Really good stuff.
“You can live a lifetime and, at the end of it, know more about other people than you know about yourself.
You learn to watch other people, but you never watch yourself because you strive against loneliness. If you read a book, or shuffle a deck of cards, or care for a dog, you are avoiding yourself.
The abhorrence of loneliness is as natural as wanting to live at all.” show less
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Common Knowledge
- Canonical title
- West with the Night
- Original title
- West with the Night
- Original publication date
- 1942
- People/Characters
- Beryl Markham; Bror Blixen; Denys Finch-Hatton; Tom Black; Eric Gooch; Arab Ruta
- Important places
- Africa; East Africa; Kenya
- Epigraph
- "I speak of Africa and golden joys." -- Shakespeare, Henry IV, Act V, Sc. 3
- Dedication
- For my Father
"I wish to express my gratitude to Raoul Schumacher for his constant encouragement and his assistance in the preparations for this book." - First words
- "How is it possible to bring order out of memory?"
- Quotations
- Namen sind die Schlüssel für Türen, hinter denen Halbverschüttetes liegt, verschwommen für den Verstand, vertraut jedoch im Herzen. - S.14
Niemals zögern oder zaudern, niemals sich umdrehen und niemals glauben, dass eine Stunde, an die man sich erinnert, eine bessere Stunde ist, weil sie tot ist. Vergangene Jahre scheinen sichere Jahre zu sein, eine entschwunde... (show all)ne, gefahrlose Zeit, während die Zukunft, wie in einer konturlosen Wolke, aus der Ferne bedrohlich wirkt. Dringt man in die Wolke ein, so klart sie auf. - S. 144
Ich lernte, was jedes träumende Kind wissen muss - dass kein Horizont zu weit ist, um bis zu ihm und über ihn hinaus vorzustoßen. - S. 198
Was immer der Mensch unternimmt, Würde erlangt sein Bemühen erst, wenn echte Arbeit dahintersteckt, und fühlt man dann das Bedürfnis, sein - im Wortsinn - Handwerk auszuüben, so begreift man, dass die anderen Dinge - all... (show all) die Experimente, die Eitel- und Nichtigkeiten, denen man nachjagte - ganz einfach unsinnig waren. - S. 298
...every farmer is a midwife. There is no time for mystery. There is only time for patience and care, and hope that what is born is worthy and good. p. 121
No human pursuit achieves dignity until it can be called work, and when you can experience a physical loneliness for the tools of your trade, you see that the other things--the experiments, the irrelevant vocations, the vanit... (show all)ies you used to hold--were false to you. p. 278
Life is life and fun is fun, but it's all so quiet when the goldfish die. p. 218
I am incapable of a profound remark on the workings of Destiny. It seems to get up early and go to bed very late, and it acts most generously toward the people who nudge it off the road whenever they meet it.
They were dark days heavy-scented with gloom. All the petty joys of early youth, the games, the friendships with the Nandi totos lost their lustre. Time became a weight that would not be moved until the bodies themselves had ... (show all)been moved and grass roots had found the new earth of the graves, and the women had cleaned the vacant huts of the dead and you could see the sun again.
Wherever you are, it seems, you must have news of some other place, some bigger place, so that a man on his deathbed in the swamplands of Victoria Nyanza is more interested in what had lately happened in this life than in wha... (show all)t may happen in the next. It is really this that makes death so hard—curiosity unsatisfied.
I wanted to call out for Ebert, for anyone. But I couldn't say anything and no one would have heard, so I stood there with my hands on Bergner's shoulders feeling the tremor of his muscles pass through my fingertips and heari... (show all)ng the rest of his life run out in a stream of little words carrying no meaning, bearing no secrets—or perhaps he had none.
The farm at Njoro was endless, but it was no farm at all until my father made it. He made it out of nothing and out of everything—the things of which all farms are made.
They wore hats, bandannas, jackets of home-cured hide, shukas, shorts, boots or no boots, and it didn't matter. Altogether it made a uniform—not for a man, but for a body of men. Each contributed to the distinguished style ... (show all)and colour of a regiment that had had its predecessors once in America, but had not, in this war, a counterpart.¶ They had come to fight, and they stayed and fought—some because they could read and understand what they read, some because they had listened to other men, and some because they were told that this, in the name of civilization—a White Man's God more tangible than most—was their new duty.
The days that marked the war went on like the ticking of a clock that had no face and showed no time.
What a child does not know and does not want to know of race and colour and class, he learns soon enough as he grows to see each man flipped inexorably into some predestined groove like a penny or a sovereign in a banker's ra... (show all)ck. Kibii, the Nandi boy, was my good friend. Arab Ruta, who sits before me, is my good friend, but the handclasp will be shorter, the smile will not be so eager on his lips, and though the path is for a while the same, he will walk behind me now, when once, in the simplicity of our nonage, we walked together.¶ No, my friend, I have not learned more than this. Nor in all these years have I met many who have learned as much.
In any country almost empty of men, 'love thy neighbor' is less a pious injunction than a rule of survival. If you meet one in trouble, you stop—another time he may stop for you.
there was nothing but rolling downs that went on and on in easy waves until they broke against the wall of the sky.
If a man has any greatness in him, it comes to light, not in one flamboyant hour, but in the ledger of his daily work.
I think he could track a honeybee through a bamboo forest.
But on that morning you could see nothing; mountain mist had stolen down from Kenya during the night and captured the country.
You could expect many things of God at night when the campfire burned before the tents. You could look through and beyond the veils of scarlet and see shadows of the world as God first made it and hear the voices of the beast... (show all)s He put there. It was a world as old as Time, but as new as Creation's hour had left it.¶ In a sense it was formless. When the low stars shone over it and the moon clothed it in silver fog, it was the way the firmament must have been when the waters had gone and the night of the Fifth Day had fallen on creatures still bewildered by the wonder of their being.
I wonder if I should have a change—a year in Europe this time—something new, something better, perhaps. A life has to move or it stagnates. Even this life, I think.¶ It is no good telling yourself that one day you will w... (show all)ish you had never made that change; it is no good anticipating regrets. Every tomorrow ought not to resemble every yesterday.
Each humid, tropic day is stillborn, and does not breathe, however lustily pregnant the night that gave it birth. - Last words
- (Click to show. Warning: May contain spoilers.)She was old and weather-weary, and she had learned to let the world come round to her."
- Blurbers
- Hemingway, Ernest
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- Biography & Memoir, Travel, Nonfiction, General Nonfiction
- DDC/MDS
- 629.13092 — Applied Science & Technology Engineering Transportation Vehicles Airplanes, Helicopters, and other aircrafts Aviation engineering Biography; History By Place Biography
- LCC
- TL540 .M345 .A3 — Technology Motor vehicles. Aeronautics. Astronautics Motor vehicles. Aeronautics. Astronautics Aeronautics. Aeronautical engineering
- BISAC
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