Cher 'N Books's Reviews > The Boys in the Boat: Nine Americans and Their Epic Quest for Gold at the 1936 Berlin Olympics

4 stars - It was great. I loved it.

The fact that I had no interest in, and in fact dreaded reading this book club selection yet ending up loving it, is testament to how compelling this inspirational story was.

I have no interest in rowing. Actually, I have no interest in sports. Thankfully, this is not just a book about rowing and Olympic races. The author seamlessly weaves in details about Germany and Hitler's rise to power, the dust bowl, America in post-depression years and on the cusp of WWII, and illustrates with factual stories the sharp contrast of our culture then vs. now, particularly in regards to parenting. The author heavily focuses on the life of one particular rower, Joe Rantz, and his story breathes so much life and soul into the book.

"...this is, in many ways, a book about a young man's long journey back to a place he can call home."

The author includes many pictures throughout the book which were greatly appreciated and help to place the reader more firmly in the story. Surprisingly few parts of this book were slow (surprising given my utter lack of interest in the subject). A few of the races were too detailed for my tastes and bogged down the pace, but on the other hand, the details of the Olympic race were thrilling and suspenseful, despite already knowing how it all ends.

"And so they passed away, loved and remembered for all that they were - not just Olympic oarsmen but good men, one and all."



UW Crew of 1936 at their 40th Reunion.

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Favorite Quote: They are almost all gone now - the legions of young men who saved the world in the years just before I was born. But that afternoon, standing on the balcony of Haus West, I was swept with gratitude for their goodness and their grace, their humility and their honor, their simple civility and all the things they taught us before they flitted across the evening water and finally vanished into the night.

First Sentence: This book was born on a cold, drizzly, late spring day when I clambered over the split-rail cedar fence that surrounds my pasture and made my way through wet woods to the modest frame house where Joe Rantz lay dying.