This book is a history of the world's deepest cave, the Pierre St. Martin. It begins at about the point where Haroun Tazieff's classic history leaves off. Its author, Corentin Queffelec, started caving at the Pierre in the year after the tragic death of Marcel Loubens in the 333m entrance shaft, the Puits Lepineux. At first he was connected solely with the winch-gear, but later he became more and more involved with the exploration of the cave.

All in all this is a fascinating book. What makes it so different from many other caving histories is the fact that it is not merely a precise, factual, day-to-day account of the development of the Pierre, but a sensitive and well-observed character-study; the cavers concerned are not simply intrepid explorers who think nothing of swinging down a 600' pitch on knotted bootlaces, equipped only with a guttering candle and a profound faith in the Guiding Spirit of Speleology. They are men who get drunk, make silly mistakes underground and jack it in just because they can't be buggered to go any further. In short they are real people, not French Solo Superheroes.

It is a pity that such a well-written book should have such poor photographs but, after all, they are not absolutely essential to the text. Anyone who has already read the book will be glad to know that, according to the grapevine, Quef is soon to bring out another, dealing with the history of the Pierre subsequent to its world depth-record, and dealing with the other systems in the area. It is to be hoped that his next book will be as refreshingly unconventional as this one, even to the extent of dispensing with the almost obligatory foreword by Casteret! This is a book which should certainly be translated into English, if Dave Gill hasn't already done so.

This is essentially a collection of superb photographs, both black-and-white and colour. One inevitably makes comparisons with Bögli and Franke's 'Radiant Darkness', and on the photographic side Bonnardel's book must come out top. The pictures of pretties, in ice and in stal, are the best I have ever seen, but the book also succeeds in conveying the atmosphere of caves as only a caver can appreciate it. One sees the incredibly expressive faces of covers in squeezes, under waterfalls, on pitches, and the French dinghy-fetish is very much in evidence, producing some fine studics. Another photo shows Norbert Casteret standing at the entrance to the Gouffre Martel: all Norb's fans will certainly want this as a pin-up.

Textually, however, the book is weaker than 'Radiant Darkness', and the printed word seems to be little more than a device for breaking up the pictures. Casteret's preface is followed by a history of French caving from Martel onwards. There is no section on cave-formation, but then again the book does not purport to be a scientific treatise. Indeed the rest of the text attempts to evoke the atmosphere of a big caving trip from the point of view of a participant. Unfortunately the trip involved is a massive expedition in a huge pot, which means little to the average English caver. However it is refreshing to come across a book which gives a subjective account of caves and caving, without going to the extremes of a Casteret. The pictures alone go a long way towards an explanation of why people go caving, and the text is, on the whole, complementary to them. Although the scientific aspects of speleology are very important, nobody goes underground to find the chemical formula for the solution of limestone. The ultimate reasons must be personal; the book certainly shows us Renè Bonnardel's.

J.L.