“I am forced into speech because men of science have refused to follow my advice without knowing why.” 

Dyer opens his account by distancing himself from other “men of science.” Though he is a noted geologist and scientist himself, his experiences in Antarctica mean that he no longer includes himself in this category of people. The opening sections of the novel thus establish the life-changing nature of what is to follow: Dyer loses his identity as a scientist, as he cannot understand how a traditional scientist can cope with something as dreadful and as challenging as what he has seen. The passage also points to a paradox at the heart of Dyer’s work: He knows that people will not follow his advice unless he can explain why they should, but it’s precisely the unknowability and inexplicability of his experiences in Antarctica that he found so traumatic, and that he now seeks to use as a deterrent.

“Our good luck and efficiency had indeed been almost uncanny.”

The early days of the expedition seem almost too efficient and fortunate. Dyer is writing from a distant perspective, providing a warning to his audience. As such, anything other than pain and failure seems positive to him. The routine arrival of a scientific expedition is uncanny in light of what was to follow.