Good girls don’t go to the South Pole

Back in 1994, Liv Arnesen was the first woman to reach the South Pole alone. These two facts, first woman and solo, are essential when talking about this book because both determine its content.

Thus, this “Good girls don’t go to the South Pole” would inaugurate a new category that we could define as polar literature of the genre, the former because of its obvious nature and the latter because of its more or less exceptional character in the circle of polar adventurers.

Polar literature, of course, since the book is, in general terms, the story of her journey to the South Pole, but with a strong gender component. Unfortunately, Arnesen did not have it as easy as male adventurers (the stereotypes and taboos so difficult to break, the lack of understanding, the greater difficulty in finding sponsors, etc.) and she makes this clear in the first part of the book. Without playing the victim, but calling a spade a spade.

But in addition to this, the text has several sub-variants that make it differ from the classic account of polar expeditions.

On the one hand, it swings between the historical past, the more recent past and the present because the journey does not begin upon reaching Antarctica and the idea of ​​the journey does not come from nowhere. The pioneers Nordenskjoll, Nansen, Amundsen or Shackelton and more recent travellers such as Erling Kagge are key figures in understanding Arnesen’s attraction to the white and blue immensity of the polar regions, and their stories are intertwined with that of the author herself. In addition, the part dedicated to preparation and stewardship (in its broadest sense) is as important or more so than the journey itself across the frozen continent.

On the other hand, the text has a markedly intimate character. While the first half is dominated by reflections on dreams or goals, the second half is dominated by comments on one’s own interiority, the tensions and fears derived from the journey itself and the way to face them.

This intimate nature makes Arnesen’s story lack some “epic” quality, so much so that the author herself refers to herself “not as a discoverer but as an extreme tourist who is in Antarctica just for the pleasure of doing the route.” It’s not that the trip doesn’t have that quality (Liv did more than 1,100 kilometers skiing and pulling a 100-kilo sled, damn it!!) but the author chooses another route and that is something that may disappoint those looking for something more classic.

But if you are looking for a polar adventure told from a different point of view and narrated in an entertaining and simple way, this could be your story.