Smokejumper is a compelling memoir by one of America's firefighting elite. Smokejumpers have one of the most insane jobs in the world, parachuting near (definitely not in) wildfires in inaccessible terrain to cut lines and put out blazes before they grow into firestorms. Ramos discusses his career as a smokejumper in the context of the history of wildland firefighting, with a focus on those rare tragedies where firefighters die in the context of their duties.

The trivia is fascinating. The smokejumpers originated in the 1930s, and as America's first parachute deployed force, served as a model for the famous Airborne units of the Second World War. Every smokejumper is an expert tailor, since they have to custom-make their jumpsuits and packs, working with gnarly fabrics like kevlar and nomex. Fire is deadly and unpredictable. Flamefronts can melt cars to puddles of slag, and leave water containers a few dozen feet away unscathed. Working uphill of a fire is inadvisable, since fire moves up hills, but working downhill means risking flaming boulders and other projectiles coming down the mountain.

Ramos has a few hobbyhorses that he is a little obsessive about. He thinks smokejumpers are consistently underused by incident managers who consider them primadonna mavericks. I can't speak to the jurisdictional concerns, and while smokejumpers have a definite macho attitude, it's a matter of degree rather than kind compared to their peers on hotshot teams and helitack crews, who do much of the same things by truck and helicopter. He has a real bug about equipment, and particularly inadequate fire shelters, though given that's its his life on the line, he's right to care. But overall Ramos is a charismatic and charming writer, and an excellent ambassador for his profession.