This is an odd book - not in its structure or anything like that, but in its content. It's very much a story of two loves that rarely come together. Markham is famous in the history of flight, being the first person to fly, solo and non-stop, from England to America. This famous flight, however, is really only covered in the very last pages of the book. Far more time is given to her life as a young pilot, learning to fly in Africa and working as a sort of pilot-for-hire there, doing everything from dropping off supplies and medicine to scouting elephants for big game hunters. I do not like these big game hunters. I do not like Markham, much, when she's helping them slaughter for amusement. And what makes it so difficult to read - and so incomprehensible - is how much she clearly loves animals. The other half of the book has nothing to do with transport at all. It's stories from her childhood and youth of the animals she loved or was affected by - her dog, her horses, the lion that attacked her. It's all animal, animal, animal, until she learns to fly and then it's all fly, fly, fly (especially if she can fly to shoot the animals). And I kind of shake my head, but. But. Her prose is absolutely gorgeous. I mean it is beautiful. It's been a long time since I've read prose this good.

Anyway, I read this book because it's one of my Dad's favourites and he raves about it. I thought I better read it just so I can understand why he loves it so much. He grew up in Africa, so I think he loves the familiarity of the setting. That doesn't affect me so much, but the writing... it's worth reading just for that beautiful prose.