Lake Tahoe is one of my favorite places. I have fond memories of spending summers there when growing up. My folks had a tiny little cabin on a hill, which made for great sledding in the winter.

That’s why I wanted to read Tahoe beneath the Surface: The Hidden Stories of America’s Largest Mountain Lake by Scott Lankford.

The book is well written, well researched, and clever. Lankford shares stories I’ve never heard about the Lake, and adds new details to stories I’ve heard all my life. There’s even a sly humor that comes out from time to time.

But it wasn’t my favorite book. In part because Lankford goes out of his way to tell the WHOLE story, the good and the bad. Historically, that’s a wise move. Let’s get those stories in writing. But as a reader who loves the region of Lake Tahoe, it’s not a lot of fun to read chapter after chapter of how the Native American’s were abused or legendary visitors were scoundrels. Yes, I know these things are true. Yes, I know they are underrepresented and need to be brought out like dirty laundry. Still doesn’t make it fun to read.

And for me, at least, I associate Lake Tahoe with fun. It was a place to go where dreams came to life. Where everything was bigger than life. And everything shone with a special brilliance that only a high mountain lake can create.

Lankford does capture a lot of that to be sure. He loves the Lake like few other writers. But in an effort to be fully transparent and tell the whole story, he misses a chance to inspire and further our dreams. There is value in a book like this. But as one who needs and wants a pristine place — in real life as well as in my imagination — I don’t want anybody messing with my Lake Tahoe.