It's like a thrilling adventure story, but instead of Indiana Jones, it's a bunch of British guys in India measuring the distance between two points with a big stick.

Keay does an excellent job of bringing history to life, and I found myself completely engrossed in the story. The way he weaves together the science, politics, and personalities involved in this project is truly impressive.

I was blown away by the dedication and perseverance of the surveyors who worked on this project for over a decade.

At times, Keay's writing can be a bit dense and academic, which may turn off some readers. But honestly, I was so invested in the story that I didn't really mind.

I highly recommend "The Great Arc" to anyone interested in history, geography, or just a good British administrative adventure story. ( )

I whizzed through this in about two nights and didn't find it at all dry. Now I'm a sucker for Georgian technology and especially surveying, but this should appeal to anyone interested in map making, Ripping Yarns, or just the history of India. Whether it was from losing surveyors to fevers, to Fear Of Tigers, or to the bullying of the project manager, this was a difficult and impressive achievement. While reading it I realised that I already knew a lot about the surveying (personally I'd have enjoyed a book twice this size, with more technical detail), but so little about Indian geography and its colonisation by the British. Another gap to fill, so I should find a copy of Keay's 'History of India'.

And then there's Eve-rest himself. One of the least known figures to have such a massive geographical feature named after him. One can hardly take to the chap though, and Lambton surely deserves an equal memorial. ( )

A worthy attempt to explain the complexity of the Great Trigonometrical Survey of India and the characters associated with it - a tremendous scientific achievement no doubt but a somewhat dry and dusty read for this reviewer. ( )

Quite an average book, at least by John Keay's standards. I have loved his "India: A History" and was looking at something similar.

The entire story is quite drab, but I guess there is only so much color you can add to a bunch of Englishmen dragging heavy theodolites and constructing large platforms to measure and map India.

The only thing that stood out was the characters of Everest and Lambton: surveying because it must be done! Their attention to detail, humility before the task at hand and service to science are exemplary and worth emulating.

So thanks for bringing the story out Mr. Keay, but this might have been a more exciting read as a longform article. Just my 2 cents! ( )

At the edge of the Welsh town of Crickhowell in the Black Mountains of Wales lies the Georgian manor house of Gwernvale, now a hotel. It was built by Greenwich solicitor William Tristram Everest, and local lore claims that his eldest son George was born here: his baptismal certificate attests that he was born on the 4th July 1790, but there’s no supporting evidence as to where. As it was not till several months later that he was baptised at St Alphage church, Greenwich — on 27th January 1791 — the legend appears plausible until one considers the likelihood that the present building was only constructed between 1797 and 1803. Be that as it may, there is a neatness about George Everest’s possible connections with the Black Mountains and the mountain named after him in 1865, with the added irony that he never actually set eyes on the world’s highest summit.

Lieutenant, later Colonel, George Everest — the name should be pronounced Eve-rest, by the way, not as three-syllabic Ever-est — succeeded William Lambton as principal surveyor of the Great Indian Arc of the Meridian, which in time became the Great Trigonometrical Survey of India. The Arc closely followed the meridian 78° east of Greenwich, spreading its triangulated tentacles east and west in its effort to accurately map the whole of British India, from Cape Comorin in the south to the Himalayan foothills in the north and beyond. The rate of attrition for the army of surveyors, their assistants and support was equivalent to the decimation of an army over its half-century of existence; malaria, fevers, animal attacks and sheer exhaustion exacted a heavy price for the inch-perfect survey.

The epic story of Lambton, Everest, their assistants and successors as told by John Keay is one of slow but steady success despite hardship, ingenuity despite disaster and doggedness in the face of almost insurmountable odds. One doesn’t need to be a mathematician — I’m certainly a duffer at this subject — to appreciate the sheer attention to detail when triangulating sites many miles distant, hoiking heavy specialist equipment carefully up towers and mountains, recalculating figures when recalibration was necessary (as it inevitably was) and allowing for refraction, the gravitational attraction of mountains, and the earth’s imperfect spherical shape. With maps and diagrams and with prints and photos we are transported through jungles, plains and uplands, reliving trials with theodolites, chains and compensation bars and savouring encounters with hyenas and uncooperative locals along with views of the world’s highest snow-covered peaks.

Lambton and Everest are the star players in this account simply because there is a wealth of documentation concerning them. Two more contrasting figures it is hard to imagine: where Lambton is calm and collected, rarely ill and always comfortable amongst his extended family, Everest is stubborn, choleric, frequently laid low with fever and irascible with colleagues and subordinates. I would have liked to have known more about characters like Joseph Olliver, William Rossenrode and Radhanath Sickdhar, but Everest in particular strides like a colossus across these pages. If you require a monument to him you need look no further than the pre-eminent summit in the world; but of Lambton and the rest their work seems to be largely ignored except by a handful of scholars. A pity, as they worked hard and suffered much for their cause.

Satellite and other technology has overtaken the painstaking work they did over several decades, but their combined efforts won’t be forgotten. In a corner of Wales, at least, George Everest the man remains celebrated, not least at his putative birthplace and by Everest Drive, a quiet Crickhowell street. One hundred and fifty years after Everest’s death in 1866 is a fitting moment to recall the Survey’s great work.

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