When I was six, our family visited our relatives in Illinois who lived on a farm. While there, my cousin and I wandered off to play. When the sky got black and lightning began striking, he headed off as fast as he could run. I dawdled along. By the time I got home the wind was howling, and we could see a tornado in the distance. In minutes, we were all in the storm cellar. Down there, it sounded like an express train was roaring by. When we came out, a 100-year-old oak tree lay across the top of the house, ripped out by the roots. To this day, I've never had as intense an experience as that one. I also didn't really understand what happened that day. Now, thanks to this book, I do understand the forces behind that experience.
Tornadoes is that rare book that combines dramatic, vivid photography with scientific material to explain what you are seeing. In most cases, I was able to follow what was said. Some descriptions were a little puzzling, such as what an "anvil" is which is not defined in the glossary at the end. Despite that, I can now look at thunderstorms with greater understanding, and appreciate their potential for harm through tornadoes. I was fascinated by the statistics on the harm that tornadoes routinely do in various parts of the world.
My only reservation about the book is that it seemed a little high priced for a 72-page paperback, but the quality of the images softened that reaction for me. Such excellent photographs and exhibits are expensive to acquire and reproduce.
If you would like to know a little more about tornadoes that what you hear on television, get this book!
Where else do dangerous phenomena fascinate in the same way? Only large fires probably are as appealing to the eye. What is it about these dangers that draws us to them? I know few people who love looking at earthquakes while they happen. Perhaps it is the ability to see them from what seems like a safe distance that turns them into fascinations, while an earthquake captures us in its danger while it is happening.