Not a cloud in the sky. I'm sweating in the garden, my scalp slowly broiling. My mind is elsewhere seeking mercy from the sun - dreaming of distant places where I could chill...SERIOUSLY chill. I'm talking the Arctic and the Antarctic.
While you might be able to convince me to briefly set foot someplace in the Arctic (Alaska, anyone?), the Antarctic with its annual mean temperature of -58 degrees is simply out of the question. But in books, I'll happily vicariously experience toes black from frostbite, sleeping in sodden sealskin sleeping bags, and eating nothing but frozen seal meat. These books put my minor discomforts in perspective and leave me with a sense of wonder and awe. I'm glad some braver souls than myself have explored such places and that some have survived to tell the tale.
A morose WWI veteran travels thousands of miles by steamship to accept the position of Weather Official on an isolated, Antarctic island. The island's only other resident is a demented lighthouse keeper. Or so it seems. Within hours of assuming his post, our unnamed protagonist is beset by unimaginable horrors.