Sometimes a book comes along that is such a complete surprise, I just want to shout about it. The latest example is called All Good, K.—a title definitely not chosen as clickbait.
Author Kirsten Neuschäfer wowed us all in 2021–22 when she won the Golden Globe Race, a nonstop singlehanded lap of the planet that restricts competitors to equipment available in 1968. Now she’s written a book to explain all the preparation that helped her win that eight-month adventure—and I was surprised to find that it’s a fantastic read.
Aspiring writers hear a lot about creating a distinctive voice, and Kirsten’s personality definitely shines through. Like the race—and the book’s title—the many chapters tell her story in her own way. Early on, the occasional steps into the future (describing “scenes” from the race to come, long before they happened) seem like a distraction. But I quickly embraced them, because each one provides context/depth for the “now” of the previous chapter.
Both highs and lows are described in language suitable for non-sailors, and the tone is positive—without sugar-coating the many difficulties. The book is her chance to reminisce, while calling out the many twists of fate and supporters that eventually led her to victory. And I love that she uses “we” throughout, pairing herself with her boat Minnehaha.
Two small quibbles: some of the dialogue is a bit repetitive, probably because it’s a stab at direct quotes (which often don’t read well). And for this editor, the use of “landed up” (instead of “ended up”) read like a typo at first—until I confirmed it as a common South Africanism.
What I did find particularly amusing was the “conversations” Kirsten had with herself when things got hard. Here’s one example, when frustrating calms in the Indian Ocean left sails slatting and stopped any significant progress:
It can make you crazy. It can even make you talk angrily to certain entities about their unacceptable behavior. They won’t answer back and they won’t listen to you either. They are entirely indifferent to your plight.
“Damn you, mainsail! Stop slamming like that! You’re driving me crazy. . . .”
“And staysail—damn you too! … Just relax, will you? Yankee! Don’t you start! You’re going to damage your foil!”
“Minnehaha! What’s your problem? . . . . Do you have to roll back and forth like a pig wallowing in mud?”
“Wind! You’re to blame! . . . . Can’t you see that you’re hurting my poor boat?”
When you get no reaction, you might turn on yourself and get into ferocious arguments . . . .
“Okay, Kirsten, quit it. The wind and the sea don’t care about you. . . . You’re a visitor, so show some respect.”
She pivots to the birds, who are “so natural and so perfect. . . . When there’s no wind at all, they don’t start blaming the sea and their boat and everything they can possibly think of.”
I followed the Golden Globe race “live,” but reading this story was a fresh perspective. For one thing, it made me realize how much more we spectators knew about the fleet’s eight-plus months of positions at sea than the sailors did. Because they were limited to pre-internet comms, Kirsten only learned she’d won from the many folks who came out to greet her at the finish.
Though there are plenty of heart-racing moments—a mid-ocean rescue, a big storm, gear failures—the real story lies in a far less glamorous truth: that most races are won long before they start. Meticulous preparation is long on plodding progress and short on glory, but it’s absolutely required for the success of any enormous dream.
Oh, and the title? Turns out, it’s what Kirsten would tell race officials on each required check-in. “I just wanted to be left alone,” she says more than once. Ironically, this refreshing lack of interest in self-promotion is one of her most crowd-pleasing traits.
I believe All Good, K belongs on every armchair sailor’s reading list, because it’s a testimony to both the simplicity and complications of ocean adventuring. “It often strikes me when I am at sea how much we humans are a land species,” Kirsten tells us in her prologue, “and that being on a boat surrounded by thousands of miles of open, heaving ocean is really not our natural habitat. Yet, I miss being there—out on the ocean. The ocean. The road to everywhere…”
Got a book that surprised you? Share it in the comments below; I read every single one, with gratitude. Thanks for being here, and see you next Thursday.