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The Quickening: Creation and Community at the Ends of the Earth
An astonishing, vital book about Antarctica, climate change, and motherhood from the author of Rising, finalist for the Pulitzer Prize in General Nonfiction.
In 2019, fifty-seven scientists and crew set out onboard the Nathaniel B. Palmer. Their destination: Thwaites Glacier. Their goal: to learn as much as possible about this mysterious place, never before visited by humans, and believed to be both rapidly deteriorating and capable of making a catastrophic impact on global sea-level rise.
In The Quickening, Elizabeth Rush documents their voyage, offering the sublime—seeing an iceberg for the first time; the staggering waves of the Drake Passage; the torqued, unfamiliar contours of Thwaites—alongside the workaday moments of this groundbreaking expedition. A ping-pong tournament at sea. Long hours in the lab. All the effort that goes into caring for and protecting human life in a place that is inhospitable to it. Along the way, she takes readers on a personal journey around a more intimate question: What does it mean to bring a child into the world at this time of radical change?
What emerges is a new kind of Antarctica story, one preoccupied not with flag planting but with the collective and challenging work of imagining a better future. With understanding the language of a continent where humans have only been present for two centuries. With the contributions and concerns of women, who were largely excluded from voyages until the last few decades, and of crew members of color, whose labor has often gone unrecognized. The Quickening teems with their voices—with the colorful stories and personalities of Rush’s shipmates—in a thrilling chorus.
Urgent and brave, absorbing and vulnerable, The Quickening is another essential book from Elizabeth Rush.
In 2019, fifty-seven scientists and crew set out onboard the Nathaniel B. Palmer. Their destination: Thwaites Glacier. Their goal: to learn as much as possible about this mysterious place, never before visited by humans, and believed to be both rapidly deteriorating and capable of making a catastrophic impact on global sea-level rise.
In The Quickening, Elizabeth Rush documents their voyage, offering the sublime—seeing an iceberg for the first time; the staggering waves of the Drake Passage; the torqued, unfamiliar contours of Thwaites—alongside the workaday moments of this groundbreaking expedition. A ping-pong tournament at sea. Long hours in the lab. All the effort that goes into caring for and protecting human life in a place that is inhospitable to it. Along the way, she takes readers on a personal journey around a more intimate question: What does it mean to bring a child into the world at this time of radical change?
What emerges is a new kind of Antarctica story, one preoccupied not with flag planting but with the collective and challenging work of imagining a better future. With understanding the language of a continent where humans have only been present for two centuries. With the contributions and concerns of women, who were largely excluded from voyages until the last few decades, and of crew members of color, whose labor has often gone unrecognized. The Quickening teems with their voices—with the colorful stories and personalities of Rush’s shipmates—in a thrilling chorus.
Urgent and brave, absorbing and vulnerable, The Quickening is another essential book from Elizabeth Rush.
424 pages, Hardcover
First published January 1, 2023
282 people are currently reading
7091 people want to read
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Displaying 1 - 30 of 196 reviews
April 22, 2023
In The Quickening, Elizabeth Rush chronicles a months-long journey to the Thwaites glacier in Antarctica with scientists who are conducting research that will help us better understanding how global warming is reshaping our planet. As with Rising, this book is beautifully written, deeply felt, and thoroughly researched. In a companion narrative, Rush grapples with her desire for motherhood and the environmental costs of bringing new life into this world. Antarctica is a mysterious terrifying vast place and Rush captures all of it with genuine curiosity and intelligence. This book is at once a love letter and a meditation and a gentle warning—and we very much need all three.
There are some odd things happening structurally with excerpts from interviews with her shipmates but in the end it mostly works.
There are some odd things happening structurally with excerpts from interviews with her shipmates but in the end it mostly works.
December 29, 2023
The Quickening was a little uneven for me. It's a book with two principal storylines: the 2019 voyage of 57 scientists and crewmembers who set out to document and study the never-before-visited-by-humans Thwaites Glacier in Antarctica, the retreat of which is a key indicator of climate change; and the author's own journey from questioning what it means to have a child in a warming world to becoming a mother.
I enjoyed reading about the actual experience of travel, the weeks at sea, the work of the scientists, and the challenge of trying to work in unpredictable conditions. I liked reading about social aspects of being isolated with a small group, being thrown together for a short but intense period to work towards a shared goal: the camaraderie and fast friendships, the crazy schedules, and the blurring of any lines that once existed between work and anything else. Interviews with the author's shipmates provided a sense of the people who are drawn towards this life, many of whom are parents. And there are some interesting anecdotes about the history of Antarctic exploration - how white and male that space has been, and how that's slowly starting to change.
What worked less for me was the secondary storyline. I certainly understand the connection between a growing awareness of the impending climate crisis and a growing anxiety around bringing children into an uncertain and unstable future - and I actually liked the exploration of some of the different schools of thought around this - but the author's own narrative, to me, felt uncomfortably wedged in. (And her interviews with her shipmates about their birth stories - as in, describing the days they were born - felt particularly incongruous.) A huge caveat here is that I'm not the most emotional person, and really earnest/vulnerable/brave writing - as this has been described - is rarely my thing. And I also acknowledge that may not be the case for (many) others!
This was a 3.5 star book for me. And 5 stars for the cover. If you're here for frozen landscapes, but do not have a frozen heart, you may really enjoy this.
I enjoyed reading about the actual experience of travel, the weeks at sea, the work of the scientists, and the challenge of trying to work in unpredictable conditions. I liked reading about social aspects of being isolated with a small group, being thrown together for a short but intense period to work towards a shared goal: the camaraderie and fast friendships, the crazy schedules, and the blurring of any lines that once existed between work and anything else. Interviews with the author's shipmates provided a sense of the people who are drawn towards this life, many of whom are parents. And there are some interesting anecdotes about the history of Antarctic exploration - how white and male that space has been, and how that's slowly starting to change.
What worked less for me was the secondary storyline. I certainly understand the connection between a growing awareness of the impending climate crisis and a growing anxiety around bringing children into an uncertain and unstable future - and I actually liked the exploration of some of the different schools of thought around this - but the author's own narrative, to me, felt uncomfortably wedged in. (And her interviews with her shipmates about their birth stories - as in, describing the days they were born - felt particularly incongruous.) A huge caveat here is that I'm not the most emotional person, and really earnest/vulnerable/brave writing - as this has been described - is rarely my thing. And I also acknowledge that may not be the case for (many) others!
This was a 3.5 star book for me. And 5 stars for the cover. If you're here for frozen landscapes, but do not have a frozen heart, you may really enjoy this.
September 7, 2023
I will read everything Elizabeth Rush writes forever. She is one of the foremost writers on climate change and also one of my favorite writers to read on the environment in general. She writes about the natural world with not only such lush creativity but also with such tenderness and concern. Her latest takes the author on a scientific mission to the Thwaites Glacier in Antarctica where she also contemplates motherhood in a disappearing world. I loved that very specific details regarding the science on the mission, the eye towards the missing women from the Antarctic cannon, and Rush's conscious decision to fill her book with the voices and narratives of her shipmates. This is not to be missed nonfiction: part climate call to arms, part science class, part Antarctic adventure story, part stunning nature writing, part earnest contemplation of motherhood. I learned A LOT.
August 1, 2025
4.75/5. I really liked this one. I love how it was written to include the stories of all part of this incredible journey. I love how the author connects motherhood with nature, showing her thoughts and how humans truly are one with the earth in so many ways.
February 9, 2024
This is a fascinating melange. The author goes on an antarctic expedition to get samples in and around the melting Thwaites glacier. The crew is utopic, cooperative, a real life version of a Becky Chambers ship crew (though sadly, and true to reality - not as diverse). The science is well integrated into the more light hearted interactions. It's really lyrically written.
The author wants a child, and has one after she gets home. She quizzes the crew on their childbirth experiences. (CW: labor and delivery). She goes home and gets pregnant and has a baby. She's very earnest and idealistic about the magic of reproduction. She even feels the quickening.
I'm towards the end of a less earnestly wanted, less magical pregnancy. But it still seems that this book was right for me to read at this time. It may not have worked for me at another time. It may not work for you. But l'll allow it this week
The author wants a child, and has one after she gets home. She quizzes the crew on their childbirth experiences. (CW: labor and delivery). She goes home and gets pregnant and has a baby. She's very earnest and idealistic about the magic of reproduction. She even feels the quickening.
I'm towards the end of a less earnestly wanted, less magical pregnancy. But it still seems that this book was right for me to read at this time. It may not have worked for me at another time. It may not work for you. But l'll allow it this week
October 12, 2023
Haven’t read a non fiction book in awhile and I really enjoyed this as a way to get back into it! Very interesting perspective and didn’t feel as slow as some non fiction books can be. Definitely an important read and an important message.
February 7, 2024
4.5 stars for me. Because of my life stage, she grapples with a lot of ideas that I personally am grappling with. I found the book to be quite unique and I enjoyed her writing style, but there were also long sections that I didn't fully connect with, or that felt like they meandered with no clear purpose. Some of her conclusions were also quite vague.
If the premise sounds engaging, it is definitely worth a read.
If the premise sounds engaging, it is definitely worth a read.
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July 26, 2025Antarctica and motherhood…exactly
November 30, 2024
"There are so many ways in which my journey toward Thwaites taught me how to mother—or, at least, how to invest a whole lot of time and energy into a project without having any idea how things will turn out."
"I can celebrate the idea that to have a child means having faith that the world will change, and more importantly, committing to being a part of the change yourself."
"I can celebrate the idea that to have a child means having faith that the world will change, and more importantly, committing to being a part of the change yourself."
July 31, 2025
I loved this book. A really refreshing take on polar science that illuminated not just the science but also the scientists. And the sexist/racist history of Antarctic science too. Intermixed with this were musings on motherhood and bringing a child into the changing world, which is something I’ve thought about too. As the cover says it’s a “new kind of Antarctic story”. Just so good!!
May 2, 2024
I wanted to like this book more than I did. It had a lot of beautiful parts, reflections, and descriptions. However, I felt it lacked a certain cohesion and momentum to carry it along. I enjoyed and respect her wanting to tell a different story about Antarctica that centers the collective rather than the individual, the feminine rather than the masculine, and nurturing rather than conquest — and I’m glad this story has been told. I also really liked how she incorporated the voices of crew members and scientists and looked forward to these interview snippets. I loved the sense of community that it seemed they had on this ship. It was also impressive how she documented all the care and precision of the science that was taking place on this expedition. Some of her stories of her own pregnancy / birth were really powerful, and I was struck by her question about whether icebergs being calved is a death or a birth. However, for much of the book, the chronicle of this journey at her sea and her questions about motherhood felt disconnected from one another. I was hoping for more integration of these storylines and more contemplation about what it means to be a mother in the era of climate change. It seemed she was clear from the beginning that she wanted to be a mother, so it wasn’t really a grappling, more just a question of the logistics and timing of having a child. On the Antarctic front as well, to me, it just felt like something was sort of missing or lacking…. I wanted to feel something more from her writing!
This entire review has been hidden because of spoilers.
September 1, 2023
This book…changed me.
Like, rearranged my DNA and clarified a renewed sense of purpose around my next steps…in life.
I feel like I’ve been on a magnificent journey for the past week, savoring every sentence of Rush’s thoughtful and atmospheric writing. Sea, sky and ice scapes; science, discovery and teamwork; the intimacy shared between strangers morphing under the unique conditions of being embedded on a vessel at the bottom of the planet, all set alongside the thoughtful contemplations of motherhood, and the poignant connections the author draws between human procreation and calving glaciers…
Many times while reading this one I thought: THIS is why I read… THIS is the power of art to connect not just interdisciplinary ideas, but different people across time and space. And no, this book won’t touch everyone the way it touched me but for those it does, It will touch deep and with profound resonance.
If you dig cutting edge science, conversations about parenting, the idea of being somewhere as novel as Antarctica (and the fascinating history of our most remote continent) and if you’re as obsessed as I am with climate change, glaciers, ice and all things cold… you’re going to want to RUN to pick this one up!
Meanwhile I’ll be over here hugging my well-loved and annotated book, not yet ready to say goodbye and already contemplating a second read.
Like, rearranged my DNA and clarified a renewed sense of purpose around my next steps…in life.
I feel like I’ve been on a magnificent journey for the past week, savoring every sentence of Rush’s thoughtful and atmospheric writing. Sea, sky and ice scapes; science, discovery and teamwork; the intimacy shared between strangers morphing under the unique conditions of being embedded on a vessel at the bottom of the planet, all set alongside the thoughtful contemplations of motherhood, and the poignant connections the author draws between human procreation and calving glaciers…
Many times while reading this one I thought: THIS is why I read… THIS is the power of art to connect not just interdisciplinary ideas, but different people across time and space. And no, this book won’t touch everyone the way it touched me but for those it does, It will touch deep and with profound resonance.
If you dig cutting edge science, conversations about parenting, the idea of being somewhere as novel as Antarctica (and the fascinating history of our most remote continent) and if you’re as obsessed as I am with climate change, glaciers, ice and all things cold… you’re going to want to RUN to pick this one up!
Meanwhile I’ll be over here hugging my well-loved and annotated book, not yet ready to say goodbye and already contemplating a second read.
May 10, 2024
Just not my cup of tea. As other readers noted, I found her writing to be pretentious and overdone. (That postcard to husband killed me.)
I was hoping for more science facts but instead learned too much about the author and her life, which I frankly couldn’t care less about. It’s an interesting idea to juxtapose climate change and reproduction, but it ultimately felt like an essay to justify her desire to have kids. She came off as an out of touch and very privileged white woman (which to be fair, she is.) Which is her prerogative to write and my prerogative to heartily dislike.
I was hoping for more science facts but instead learned too much about the author and her life, which I frankly couldn’t care less about. It’s an interesting idea to juxtapose climate change and reproduction, but it ultimately felt like an essay to justify her desire to have kids. She came off as an out of touch and very privileged white woman (which to be fair, she is.) Which is her prerogative to write and my prerogative to heartily dislike.
November 14, 2023
I loved the voices and stories of the scientists and crew that Elizabeth Rush included in her reporting of their trip to Antarctica, as well as her own personal stories. What I was not a fan of was all the descriptive and sometimes scientific vocabulary she used to describe glaciers, icebergs, snow, equipment and processes that made up much of the book. It did not paint a picture for me of what it looked or felt like to be there.
January 28, 2025
I'm usually the one who goes on and on about how she loves to have a personal, memoir-ish touch to all of her non-fiction, yes, also those that aren't strictly memoirs. Yet this time I wish this was less about the author and more about the Antarctica expedition. Because the author's tone and her personal angle really brought this down for me.
At first, I was fully onboard. I knew Rush would mirror the expedition with motherhood and since I had recently enjoyed a few books about motherhood in fiction I thought this sounded interesting but I was so wrong, or at least I didn't like how it was done here. The start of the expedition was interesting and I loved that she included direct quotes (incl. their own birth stories) from many crew members and scientists. Basically the chapters are divided in a section from the expedition, then a bunch of quotes then a jump to her story about trying to become pregnant. Rinse and repeat. And it did start to feel repetitive, especially when the quotes and her descriptions covered the EXACT same ground. The more this moved on the less the two topics seemed compatible and turned into this vanity project where our author REALLY wanted to talk about her pregnancy and in the vein lost track of what this should have been. I mean sure, this has a heavy emphasis on the fallout from climate change, they witness it firsthand exploring the glacier Thwaites, so Rush points out that bringing a new human being into the world equals a new human with a carbon footprint which equals more harm to the planet. And apparently within climate researchers that is a hot topic? She now makes it out as if women worldwide get shamed for wanting children when that is really, truly not the case. Women wide and far are still looked down upon for not following their "motherly call". And if that was such a hard choice for Rush, why is the topic of adoption not even touched? I am not saying she has to adopt but if that choice of having children or saving the planet is so rough why don't we even talk about adoption for a minute and let us know why not?
Anyway, initially I was interested in the science aspect of this, despite coming more for the travel and explorer angle, but boy can she drown you in the details. On top of that, she managed to make even that about her. Because since she needed to pay it back and wanted to make friends she had to insert herself into the scientific research. And she did make friends, she is still in touch with some, so good for her. But she was also told that it was exhausting when she joins the daytrips because people felt under the microscope and watched when she was there (as in she is the journalist who is writing about them), people had to take extra time and care to explain things to her and assure her safety and finally she actually ruins an important sediment sample. People forgive her (though we never hear again from the student who needed that sample for her dissertation...), she learnt a lesson and is very sorry. But wtf? She even talks shit about the other 2 journalists for keeping a professional distance instead of 'helping out'. I mean even if it's not about professionalism, I can understand why someone would think to leave the science to the scientists, aside from maybe needing some privacy while living closely for weeks on this ship?!
I'm sorry but she really annoyed me and I didn't even get into the detailed description of her giving birth that I didn't ask for, that absolutely pretentious postcard she wrote to her husband (I am not sure if it worries me more that it was potentially fake or that those 2 really talk like that to each other) or the endless other moments of her humblebragging. To cut this off now: I did not get along with her but was too far in when I fully realized that, so I finished the book despite how I felt. And I did enjoy a lot of the facts about Antarctica, the early explore history, climate change, the scientific process and especially life on board. I never would say Rush is not a good researcher but I do not like her writing. Which makes this just so barely a 2* for me, indeed more of a
1.5*
At first, I was fully onboard. I knew Rush would mirror the expedition with motherhood and since I had recently enjoyed a few books about motherhood in fiction I thought this sounded interesting but I was so wrong, or at least I didn't like how it was done here. The start of the expedition was interesting and I loved that she included direct quotes (incl. their own birth stories) from many crew members and scientists. Basically the chapters are divided in a section from the expedition, then a bunch of quotes then a jump to her story about trying to become pregnant. Rinse and repeat. And it did start to feel repetitive, especially when the quotes and her descriptions covered the EXACT same ground. The more this moved on the less the two topics seemed compatible and turned into this vanity project where our author REALLY wanted to talk about her pregnancy and in the vein lost track of what this should have been. I mean sure, this has a heavy emphasis on the fallout from climate change, they witness it firsthand exploring the glacier Thwaites, so Rush points out that bringing a new human being into the world equals a new human with a carbon footprint which equals more harm to the planet. And apparently within climate researchers that is a hot topic? She now makes it out as if women worldwide get shamed for wanting children when that is really, truly not the case. Women wide and far are still looked down upon for not following their "motherly call". And if that was such a hard choice for Rush, why is the topic of adoption not even touched? I am not saying she has to adopt but if that choice of having children or saving the planet is so rough why don't we even talk about adoption for a minute and let us know why not?
Anyway, initially I was interested in the science aspect of this, despite coming more for the travel and explorer angle, but boy can she drown you in the details. On top of that, she managed to make even that about her. Because since she needed to pay it back and wanted to make friends she had to insert herself into the scientific research. And she did make friends, she is still in touch with some, so good for her. But she was also told that it was exhausting when she joins the daytrips because people felt under the microscope and watched when she was there (as in she is the journalist who is writing about them), people had to take extra time and care to explain things to her and assure her safety and finally she actually ruins an important sediment sample. People forgive her (though we never hear again from the student who needed that sample for her dissertation...), she learnt a lesson and is very sorry. But wtf? She even talks shit about the other 2 journalists for keeping a professional distance instead of 'helping out'. I mean even if it's not about professionalism, I can understand why someone would think to leave the science to the scientists, aside from maybe needing some privacy while living closely for weeks on this ship?!
I'm sorry but she really annoyed me and I didn't even get into the detailed description of her giving birth that I didn't ask for, that absolutely pretentious postcard she wrote to her husband (I am not sure if it worries me more that it was potentially fake or that those 2 really talk like that to each other) or the endless other moments of her humblebragging. To cut this off now: I did not get along with her but was too far in when I fully realized that, so I finished the book despite how I felt. And I did enjoy a lot of the facts about Antarctica, the early explore history, climate change, the scientific process and especially life on board. I never would say Rush is not a good researcher but I do not like her writing. Which makes this just so barely a 2* for me, indeed more of a
1.5*
May 11, 2025
Beautiful and powerfull — made me want to explore climate science as a career path! And also, of course, heartbreaking, watching a narrative about a piece of the world that is disappearing, and doing so rapidly.
Honestly did not connect to many of Rush’s notes about motherhood. Not yet, at least. She is somewhat in defense of having children into the climate changing world. Suffice it to say, she didnt change my mind, but it is not made up in the first place.
Absolutely worth the read!
Honestly did not connect to many of Rush’s notes about motherhood. Not yet, at least. She is somewhat in defense of having children into the climate changing world. Suffice it to say, she didnt change my mind, but it is not made up in the first place.
Absolutely worth the read!
January 24, 2024
Great connections between the journey to Antarctica and the journey to motherhood, the isolation & community of the ship and the isolation & community of the Covid-19 pandemic. Fine-tuned balance between information & science vs. introspection & prose. Hard to read at times due to the increasing feeling of doom I experienced.
December 22, 2025
As far as this non-expert reader can tell, this book is well-researched with an interesting premise. The material is urgent, and there are many fascinating scenes about life on a research vessel in Antarctica. The writing style really didn't jive with me, thus I took multiple years to finish it. I don't not recommend it? Also weird jacket design choice.
April 15, 2024
To be honest I have very mixed feelings about this book which probably surprises the 1 billion and one people I talked to about it. I think a lot of the enjoyment I got from this book was from learning about something so foreign to what I already knew. Learning something from scratch and having to do my own personal research full of National Geographic articles and videos to fill in the gaps in my knowledge was so fascinating, and honestly I don’t know the last time I’ve experienced approaching a subject with complete naïveté. My qualms with this book, however, is either the author is too artistic with her word choice or is the most pretentious person I’ve ever met. Very harsh way to put it, but the way she wrote her dialogue with the other people on the ship and her husband I was like oh my gosh does she actually talk like this because like come and touch grass. I guess it also could be me not having a lot of experience with nonfiction writing and having to get used to the idea that real life is even fictionalized (almost inversely related to my review of the Bell Jar) but I was like hmmm in theory she’s someone I’d like to talk to, in practice I think I’d cry. However, this book also gave me a ton of hope in the way the book was mostly intended to (the justification and grappling with having children in the face of climate change). I think the metaphors with motherhood were kind of overdone and forced at times, but I do think it put an interesting perspective when analyzing Antartica. I don’t know. I feel like this book gave me hope in the world in a weird way considering that a lot of the book was talking about how we’re failing to meet the challenges we’re presented with, but also gave me hope in my 23 year old self in a sort of “everything may be screwed up right now and you’re making mistakes and you may not know what’s going on, but keep on living because people have done this for centuries and survived and we have hope things will get better” sort of way.
March 22, 2024
Good ideas and intent, middling execution and too often didactic in tone. Will maybe resonate with readers newly sorting through questions about having children in the era of climate change, but if you've put much thought into the topic already, you may find that the book just kind of drags and doesn't provide any other real plot to keep you going, while the interesting pieces about Antartica itself are sparse and come rather slowly.
November 9, 2024
I can’t actually bring myself to finish this. There is less about Antarctica and way more about the author’s desire to have a child than I thought there would be.
November 22, 2024
The Quickening by Elizabeth Rush | Book Review
I first came across The Quickening in 2023 during a visit to Prince Edward County, at a bookshop I loved. At the time, I had no idea who Elizabeth Rush was, but the premise—Antarctica, climate change, and motherhood—immediately drew me in. I’m glad I remembered this book and finally gave it a read.
The premise is straightforward: Elizabeth joins an expedition to Thwaites Glacier to assess its condition and the growing risks it faces as warming water temperatures accelerate its decline. She explores this with meticulous detail, and while some of it might seem “boring” at first glance, there’s immense value in hearing about the intricate work happening in and around Antarctica. It’s a sobering, enlightening dive into a critical topic.
The narrative flows with the pace of the expedition, interspersed with time jumps that take us to Elizabeth’s life back home, where she’s preparing to welcome her child into the world. These shifts in time are handled so seamlessly that they feel natural, adding depth and texture to the story.
Now, let’s talk about the heart of the book. Elizabeth’s decision to have a child in a world facing profound climate turmoil is both unsettling and inspiring. Her argument is rooted in the belief that individuals shouldn’t have to sacrifice their existence to single-handedly save the planet when the true culprits are systemic failures. It’s unfair to place so much burden on individuals. Initially, I struggled with this perspective—I’m still working out where I stand—but it’s a deeply thought-provoking argument, especially for someone like me, who wants to have children and leave the world in a better place.
There’s a lot more I could say about this book, but what stands out most is its deep respect: for the Earth, for Antarctica, for the expedition team, for her son, for non-human beings, and for the interconnectedness of it all. That kind of reverence is rare, and it’s truly moving.
I’ll end with one of the book’s most poignant moments. Elizabeth makes a grave mistake, accidentally spoiling a glacier sample. Her mortification is palpable, and she doesn’t shy away from showing the raw reactions of the people around her or her own enduring shame. Here she is, confined on the Palmer research ship, with no choice but to face herself and those she’s let down. And she does—tentatively, but resolutely—by owning her mistakes and continuing to show up for the work.
This moment could have easily turned into a tale of self-pity, but instead, it becomes central to the book’s ethos: humans will make mistakes, but the only way forward is to look inward, own our failures, and return to the arena—even when it feels unbearable. In a culture that often rushes to punish and demonize, this approach is refreshing.
It’s a call to keep showing up: for the world, for those around us, for ourselves, and for future generations.
I first came across The Quickening in 2023 during a visit to Prince Edward County, at a bookshop I loved. At the time, I had no idea who Elizabeth Rush was, but the premise—Antarctica, climate change, and motherhood—immediately drew me in. I’m glad I remembered this book and finally gave it a read.
The premise is straightforward: Elizabeth joins an expedition to Thwaites Glacier to assess its condition and the growing risks it faces as warming water temperatures accelerate its decline. She explores this with meticulous detail, and while some of it might seem “boring” at first glance, there’s immense value in hearing about the intricate work happening in and around Antarctica. It’s a sobering, enlightening dive into a critical topic.
The narrative flows with the pace of the expedition, interspersed with time jumps that take us to Elizabeth’s life back home, where she’s preparing to welcome her child into the world. These shifts in time are handled so seamlessly that they feel natural, adding depth and texture to the story.
Now, let’s talk about the heart of the book. Elizabeth’s decision to have a child in a world facing profound climate turmoil is both unsettling and inspiring. Her argument is rooted in the belief that individuals shouldn’t have to sacrifice their existence to single-handedly save the planet when the true culprits are systemic failures. It’s unfair to place so much burden on individuals. Initially, I struggled with this perspective—I’m still working out where I stand—but it’s a deeply thought-provoking argument, especially for someone like me, who wants to have children and leave the world in a better place.
There’s a lot more I could say about this book, but what stands out most is its deep respect: for the Earth, for Antarctica, for the expedition team, for her son, for non-human beings, and for the interconnectedness of it all. That kind of reverence is rare, and it’s truly moving.
I’ll end with one of the book’s most poignant moments. Elizabeth makes a grave mistake, accidentally spoiling a glacier sample. Her mortification is palpable, and she doesn’t shy away from showing the raw reactions of the people around her or her own enduring shame. Here she is, confined on the Palmer research ship, with no choice but to face herself and those she’s let down. And she does—tentatively, but resolutely—by owning her mistakes and continuing to show up for the work.
This moment could have easily turned into a tale of self-pity, but instead, it becomes central to the book’s ethos: humans will make mistakes, but the only way forward is to look inward, own our failures, and return to the arena—even when it feels unbearable. In a culture that often rushes to punish and demonize, this approach is refreshing.
It’s a call to keep showing up: for the world, for those around us, for ourselves, and for future generations.
January 18, 2025
The idea behind the book was a good one, but the author’s execution was not so good. The writing is disjointed, jumps too much from one timeline to the next and one narrative to the next to the point that it’s jarring.
But the thing that annoyed me the most was the author’s bizarre stylistic choices, like when she repeats words or phrases at the beginning of several sentences in a paragraph. Some writers manage to pull it off, but she overdoes it, it’s one of those things where less is more, the moment you overdo it, not only does it lose its effect, it becomes irritating to the reader.
Sometimes the whole pregnancy, motherhood and “women in Antarctica” themes felt a little forced, although the best-written passage in the book is where she writes to her son about the day he was born.
Something that was not lost on me is that all, the scientists, main staff, journalists etc. on the expedition were white. The only people of colour were the cooks and the sailors, and while the author makes a big deal of the fact that there are women on the Antarctic expedition, this aspect is not recognized sufficiently and the reasons are not explored. Until now Antarctic exploration is mainly reserved for white people from wealthy countries, rarely are scientists from the Global South allowed into this exclusive club. It’s still very much an imperialist undertaking.
But the thing that annoyed me the most was the author’s bizarre stylistic choices, like when she repeats words or phrases at the beginning of several sentences in a paragraph. Some writers manage to pull it off, but she overdoes it, it’s one of those things where less is more, the moment you overdo it, not only does it lose its effect, it becomes irritating to the reader.
Sometimes the whole pregnancy, motherhood and “women in Antarctica” themes felt a little forced, although the best-written passage in the book is where she writes to her son about the day he was born.
Something that was not lost on me is that all, the scientists, main staff, journalists etc. on the expedition were white. The only people of colour were the cooks and the sailors, and while the author makes a big deal of the fact that there are women on the Antarctic expedition, this aspect is not recognized sufficiently and the reasons are not explored. Until now Antarctic exploration is mainly reserved for white people from wealthy countries, rarely are scientists from the Global South allowed into this exclusive club. It’s still very much an imperialist undertaking.
August 2, 2024
I really enjoyed this book although it took me a while. I had to take breaks due to the depressing truth we now face. I liked the author's female perspective of Antarctica and how she blended the ideas of motherhood and Thwaites melting/ the perspectives of the ship mates on having children/their own births. A few quotes that stood out for me:
-"I can celebrate the idea that to have a child means having faith that the world will change, and more importantly, committing to being a part of the change yourself."
...
-"They are ours no matter what—whether we sail to Antarctica or stay home, whether we have children or tend to those of our friends—no individual choice will keep our human imprint from the air or freeze Thwaites in time."
...
- "We have a responsibility to one another, beyond blood ties and genes, to make good on the gift that was so freely given. This responsibility—to the matter out of which we arose and to which we will return—remains constant."
...
"Because if I wish a child into this world, then I must also wish this world upon them."
-"I can celebrate the idea that to have a child means having faith that the world will change, and more importantly, committing to being a part of the change yourself."
...
-"They are ours no matter what—whether we sail to Antarctica or stay home, whether we have children or tend to those of our friends—no individual choice will keep our human imprint from the air or freeze Thwaites in time."
...
- "We have a responsibility to one another, beyond blood ties and genes, to make good on the gift that was so freely given. This responsibility—to the matter out of which we arose and to which we will return—remains constant."
...
"Because if I wish a child into this world, then I must also wish this world upon them."
This entire review has been hidden because of spoilers.
May 17, 2025
This book explores the community created during a scientific cruise to a never before visited Antarctic glacier that is hypothesized to be losing enough ice, and rapidly, to significantly raise sea levels. Of course this seems like a depressing premise to many who are understandably freaked out by climate change, but what this book does so well is balancing a truly hopeful tone with these facts, and she does that by the deep exploration of that community that can save us. The other big focus is the animacy or life that the ice and all parts of nature have. She very poetically explores how the ice itself is part of this story of change. And what really drew me to this book is the through-line of motherhood and birth. The stories from crew members and scientists interspersed throughout and so beautiful in their normalcy, a perfect representation of what it means to be a part of this changing planet that we love.
January 21, 2025
This book is beautiful! The author describes her journey aboard a research vessel to Antarctica and its parallels to becoming a mother. She talks about the classic books written about Antarctica - how they are largely told by men and tend to be colonial in nature- and adds a new narrative to this place, one of birth and rebirth, change, diversity, and community. She also describes her struggle with the decision to become a mother: is it responsible given the climate impact? Her exploration of this question really shifted my thinking on this. Additionally she does a great job describing the interdisciplinary nature of ocean field research! Excellent read for anyone thinking about the intersection of parenthood and climate change as well as the adventure and comunity of venturing to this beautiful and vital place.
January 26, 2024
I liked it but I sometimes found the author’s perspective to be somewhat out of touch. Tying in motherhood and the anxieties that surround it in the face of climate change was super fascinating but also resulted in a somewhat disjointed final product. I thought I might learn a lot from this book but I think it only really reiterated what I know about the rapidly deteriorating climate situation, I wish there had been a bit less personal anecdote and a bit more info!
December 22, 2024
It took me a hot second to make my way through this book but wowow, so good. I’m not normally a big nonfiction girly, but this narrative was so captivating and made me both proud to be a woman in stem and also REALLY want to visit Antarctica now. Anywho, should be a read for all of us living and contributing to an ever changing world and climate.
February 5, 2025
Interesting and look at our southernmost continent and environmental issues from new and original perspectives, as well as at the life of researchers in Antarctica and how strange and wonderful it is from anything else we know on Earth. I loved the research into the scientists motivations and background, the inspection of the moral question of bringing children into this world.
December 29, 2025
I've always found Antarctica fascinating, but reading this made me want to visit even more, but not as a tourist but rather as someone working there. Maybe one day...
As someone who is considering motherhood, this book provided a very thorough thought process of having children in a world that is ever evolving.
“Because if I wish a child into this world, I must also wish this world upon them.”
As someone who is considering motherhood, this book provided a very thorough thought process of having children in a world that is ever evolving.
“Because if I wish a child into this world, I must also wish this world upon them.”
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