Shelfies #79: Dylan Kilby

I half-jokingly call this my reference shelf. It's all the books that happily get in the way of my laptop when I'm trying to work, as well as the books my eyes flit over during long meetings to remind myself why the hours spent at said desk are worthwhile in the end. Though mostly having to do with alpinism and mountaineering, there are texts that didn't make it into the much-overburdened bookcases in our bedroom and living room. Hence why a maths proofs text sits next to a translation of the Qur'an sits next to an alpinism training book. I guess if there's one thing all these books have in common, it's that they are very well-highlighted.

There's not much of an order here, though the Colorado guidebooks are in their own section. Interleaved between books are postcards and letters from my wife that I'll occasionally forget are there until I pull them out and smile. My bouldering guidebooks are missing because they’re actively being used!

Here are some favorites with stories behind them:

The most well-loved book here is clearly The High Sierra: Peaks, Passes, and Trails by RJ Secor. This is often called the handbook of Sierra Nevada alpinism and mountaineering alongside Vitaliy Musiyenko’s High Sierra Climbing. It contains thousands of its titular features, and it doesn't shy away from highly obscure peaks and seldom-climbed routes. Each route is presented in capsule terseness that's idiosyncratic to the community; a route up the Kearsarge Pinnacles might just say "Class 4 from Pinnacle No. 8, climb the south side rising above the notch", and it's up to you to have the skills and wherewithal to find out what that means.

The second notable book is Morbid Visions, a collection of extreme metal art by Mark Riddick. This book is chock-full of illustrations including fliers, album arts, sketches, and pages upon pages of band logos - often featuring zombies in some sort of twisted, flesh-melting decay. It was my first art book, which has since grown to a collection including the "Vermis" series from Hollow Press, Radiohead's KID A MNESIA, and others. I occasionally write short horror stories for my own edification, and this is a fun book to flip through when I’m looking to get inspired.

The third one is a Colorado classic: Gerry Roach's Colorado's Fourteeners. It hasn't lived in my car as much as The High Sierra, but it's another one of those absolutely necessary books for those pursuing high places over here. This records numerous paths up each of Colorado's peaks above 14,000 feet in elevation, including utterly bizarre and extreme endurance routes that Roach will often make color commentary on at the expense of his climbing buddies over the decades. Roach writes in such an accessible and detailed way that stands in sharp contrast to RJ Secor, but both are wonderful examples of different approaches to guiding people to the freedom of the hills. It also inspired me to start my own long-term project on a guidebook for the northern Sierra.

The fourth and final book is the only fiction represented: a Spanish translation of Ernest Hemingway's The Old Man and the Sea ("El viejo y el mar"). In 2019, I briefly lived in Santiago, Chile as a part of an internship at the Universidad de Chile's Facultad de Medicina. To put it mildly, I absolutely fell in love with the country and spent many days at cafes and art events at the Centro Cultural Gabriela Mistral (GAM). I bought this during a book event at GAM toward the end of my stay, and it sits there as a reminder of lives previously lived. The original Hemingway was my grandfather's favorite book, so it's even more special to me.

Dylan Kilby is a public health professional and alpinist who hangs out with rocks in Colorado. His favorite publishers are New Directions and NYRB Classics. You can follow him on Instagram via @sunbleached_summits, where he posts photos of books in precarious places.

Shelfies is edited by Lavie Tidhar and Jared Shurin.
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