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How Far the Light Reaches: A Life in Ten Sea Creatures
Goodreads Choice Award
Nominee for Readers' Favorite Nonfiction (2023)WINNER OF THE LOS ANGELES TIMES BOOK PRIZE in SCIENCE & TECHNOLOGY
Finalist for the Lambda Literary Award
One of TIME ’s 10 Best Nonfiction Books of the Year • A PEOPLE Best New Book • A Barnes & Noble and SHELF AWARENESS Best Book of 2022 • An Indie Next Pick • One of Winter’s Most Eagerly Anticipated VANITY FAIR , VULTURE, BOOKRIOT
A fascinating tour of creatures from the surface to the deepest ocean floor, inviting us to envision wilder, grander, and more abundant possibilities for the way we live. “A miraculous, transcendental book.” (Ed Yong, author of An Immense World )
A queer, mixed race writer working in a largely white, male field, science and conservation journalist Sabrina Imbler has always been drawn to the mystery of life in the sea, and particularly to creatures living in hostile or remote environments. Each essay in their debut collection profiles one such creature, Imbler discovers that some of the most radical models of family, community, and care can be found in the sea, from gelatinous chains that are both individual organisms and colonies of clones to deep-sea crabs that have no need for the sun, nourished instead by the chemicals and heat throbbing from the core of the Earth. Exploring themes of adaptation, survival, sexuality, and care, and weaving the wonders of marine biology with stories of their own family, relationships, and coming of age, How Far the Light Reaches is a shimmering, otherworldly debut that attunes us to new visions of our world and its miracles.
Finalist for the Lambda Literary Award
One of TIME ’s 10 Best Nonfiction Books of the Year • A PEOPLE Best New Book • A Barnes & Noble and SHELF AWARENESS Best Book of 2022 • An Indie Next Pick • One of Winter’s Most Eagerly Anticipated VANITY FAIR , VULTURE, BOOKRIOT
A fascinating tour of creatures from the surface to the deepest ocean floor, inviting us to envision wilder, grander, and more abundant possibilities for the way we live. “A miraculous, transcendental book.” (Ed Yong, author of An Immense World )
A queer, mixed race writer working in a largely white, male field, science and conservation journalist Sabrina Imbler has always been drawn to the mystery of life in the sea, and particularly to creatures living in hostile or remote environments. Each essay in their debut collection profiles one such creature, Imbler discovers that some of the most radical models of family, community, and care can be found in the sea, from gelatinous chains that are both individual organisms and colonies of clones to deep-sea crabs that have no need for the sun, nourished instead by the chemicals and heat throbbing from the core of the Earth. Exploring themes of adaptation, survival, sexuality, and care, and weaving the wonders of marine biology with stories of their own family, relationships, and coming of age, How Far the Light Reaches is a shimmering, otherworldly debut that attunes us to new visions of our world and its miracles.
288 pages, Paperback
First published December 6, 2022
1036 people are currently reading
45109 people want to read
About the author
Sabrina Imbler
4 books275 followersSabrina Imbler is a writer and science journalist living in Brooklyn. Their first chapbook, Dyke (geology) was published by Black Lawrence Press. They have received fellowships and scholarships from the Asian American Writers' Workshop, Tin House, the Jack Jones Literary Arts Retreat, Millay Arts, and Paragraph NY, and their work has been supported by the Café Royal Cultural Foundation. Their essays and reporting have appeared in various publications, including the New York Times, the Atlantic, Catapult, and Sierra, among others.
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Displaying 1 - 30 of 2,581 reviews
August 30, 2023
Did you ever play a game where you picked three pieces of paper each with a word on them and you had to make a coherent sentence using all three? Because seems to be that game - and the words were 'gay', 'sea-creatures' and 'Chinese'. It almost sounds like it was an exercise in a writing class.
The author writes a lot about her sexuality and mostly not in a very cheery way, interesting sea creatures and deep-sea vents (very interested in those and their fauna) and her Chinese mother and her background. None of it hangs together at all.
There was one stunning paragraph where the author knows she is being hypocritical, but is talking only of her own half-Chinese ethnicity and complaining of it.
Actually that paragraph really struck a chord with me too. Why can't I just exist? People who don't know I'm Jewish which is almost everyone since I don't look like Hitler's or Chanel's idea of Jewish - dark, big nose, big eyes, dark hair - I am a green-eyed redhead with a quite unremarkable nose and a fair complexion - don't feel the need to define me. I'm just another ... white, which is the standard in the US. On the island I live on, I will be described as white because Black is the standard.
Jew stuff
The book was most interesting when it talked about the sea-creatures, and least interesting when it went on and on about her gay sex life. The Chinese bits were small but quite fascinating - a neighbour of her banker grandfather having (at least) six concubines. What year did they stop that in Shanghai and when did they stop referring to extra-marital girlfriends as 'concubines'? Would Hefner have been so successful in his modernisation of (male) sexual attitudes if he had used the word 'concubines' instead of 'girlfriends'? (Not really relevant since they were paid and therefore sex workers or whores as that was the word back then). Language and its changes can strongly influence mindset.
The saving grace of the book, was that the author knew her sea-creatures and writes well. Maybe she won't play the three-word game next book and stick to one subject, my preference would be a science book, I think it might be very good. 3.5 stars rounded down, just nowhere close to 4.
__________
Reading notes This book is after a few chapters, so far successful, very strange mix of science, being young and gay and full of angst, and the story of her mother in China. It's quite unclassifiable but interesting. There are quite mind-boggling sentences, "My grandmother grew up believing she was ugly because everyone told her so. A friend of her father's, their wealthy neighbour's sixth concubine always told my mother she was ugly, even for a five year old."
Her father was a banker in the city and the neighbour had a wife and harem! That sounds like two different worlds, but was in Shanghai, a sophisticated, cosmopolitan city, a melting pot of Chinese and Western cultures in the 1930s! But not one with Western attitudes towards women.
The author writes a lot about her sexuality and mostly not in a very cheery way, interesting sea creatures and deep-sea vents (very interested in those and their fauna) and her Chinese mother and her background. None of it hangs together at all.
There was one stunning paragraph where the author knows she is being hypocritical, but is talking only of her own half-Chinese ethnicity and complaining of it.
I am complaining about the moment when the Asian woman's parentage is explained by one white person to another - Chinese mom and Jewish dad - like a caption, a specimen ID.So having to have the Chinese defined is upsetting, why can't she just exist? But the Jewish bit, well that's ok. It's the only mention of 'Jewish' in the book, so it's pretty obvious that she doesn't think there is anything wrong with defining the white partner as Jewish. Jews, in her head, don't have the same right to 'just exist'.
"Why can't she just exist without explanation?" I complain, and as I complain, I know that I am being a hypocrite; if her parentage wasn't given, I would wonder what her mix was, if it was like mine."
Actually that paragraph really struck a chord with me too. Why can't I just exist? People who don't know I'm Jewish which is almost everyone since I don't look like Hitler's or Chanel's idea of Jewish - dark, big nose, big eyes, dark hair - I am a green-eyed redhead with a quite unremarkable nose and a fair complexion - don't feel the need to define me. I'm just another ... white, which is the standard in the US. On the island I live on, I will be described as white because Black is the standard.
Jew stuff
The book was most interesting when it talked about the sea-creatures, and least interesting when it went on and on about her gay sex life. The Chinese bits were small but quite fascinating - a neighbour of her banker grandfather having (at least) six concubines. What year did they stop that in Shanghai and when did they stop referring to extra-marital girlfriends as 'concubines'? Would Hefner have been so successful in his modernisation of (male) sexual attitudes if he had used the word 'concubines' instead of 'girlfriends'? (Not really relevant since they were paid and therefore sex workers or whores as that was the word back then). Language and its changes can strongly influence mindset.
The saving grace of the book, was that the author knew her sea-creatures and writes well. Maybe she won't play the three-word game next book and stick to one subject, my preference would be a science book, I think it might be very good. 3.5 stars rounded down, just nowhere close to 4.
__________
Reading notes This book is after a few chapters, so far successful, very strange mix of science, being young and gay and full of angst, and the story of her mother in China. It's quite unclassifiable but interesting. There are quite mind-boggling sentences, "My grandmother grew up believing she was ugly because everyone told her so. A friend of her father's, their wealthy neighbour's sixth concubine always told my mother she was ugly, even for a five year old."
Her father was a banker in the city and the neighbour had a wife and harem! That sounds like two different worlds, but was in Shanghai, a sophisticated, cosmopolitan city, a melting pot of Chinese and Western cultures in the 1930s! But not one with Western attitudes towards women.
April 24, 2023
A beautiful lure that caught me; the lush colors of the cover, the temptation of sea creatures, explorations of identity. Overall, it was an interesting collection of pieces that interested and occasionally challenged me. I can be honest enough to say that Sy Montgomery and her attempts to do something similar drives me bonkers, perhaps because I've had my fill of straight, white, middle-class women. Intersectionality and grey areas are everything.
If You Flush a Goldfish: I had no idea how devastating goldfish were in the environment, which makes the fact that they are so common a little bit horrifying. I would have wanted to learn a little more about this. I understand that this is a childhood fascination, but given where the essay ended, with a story of mutually discovered transformation, I would have chosen a different water creature. Perhaps a coral, which utilize a variety of reproductive techniques and go through some cool physical transformations.
"We both had been expected to be daughters but turned out to be something else."
My Mother and the Starving Octopus: Comparing their adolescence, their mother's journey from Taiwan to Michigan, their mutual preoccupation with the size of their bodies, and the story of the purple octopus who nurtured her egg clutch for four and a half years. This one was heart-breaking.
"What I mean to say is: I wanted to know if she ever regretted it."
My Grandmother and the Sturgeon: Weaving together the endangered Chinese sturgeon and its home in the Yangtze river, her grandmother and her family's escape from the Japanese in Shanghai. This one was quite close to perfect, much like a double-strand DNA. Each story parallels the other.
How to Draw a Sperm Whale: I liked this one, although the formatting it vaguely like a report was a challenge. This one tries to parallel their college thesis on sperm whales, information on necropsies, and their first girlfriend, M. (they abbreviate it 'M,' which I found distracting, like we were reading an impression of a medical report, except medical reports would no longer use abbreviations). Given how much I abhor whaling, even the historical accounts of it, it was hard to warm to this section. However, I thought it awkwardly done and felt, well, like a college writing project.
"Conclusion: The proximate cause of death may be falling in love with the idea of a person, or the idea of a relationship."
Pure Life: hydrothermal vents and the deep sea yeti crab, Kiwaidae, and Imbler's time in Seattle, where they moved for an internship. They explore the parallels of space and movement between the crab and them; inhospitable space transformed by a monthly queer POC party, and dancing, the crab farming the bacteria attached to their bristles. "It is exactly suited to the life it leads."
Beware the Sand Striker: a triggering piece on many levels. Sandstrikers are ambush predators. They note their first time giving a blow job to a man, segue into Lorena Bobbit's story and then awkwardly segue into Imbler's drinking blackouts. At no point do they mention alcohol abuse, except to say "I knew vaguely that this happened to me more frequently than the others, but I brushed this off as a quirk, something that made me fun." There's an interesting digression on predation in animal shows, and they segue into the woman who was assaulted by the Stanford swimmer. Tying these both together is an exploration of responsibility: "Almost every system we exist in is cruel, and it is our job to hold ourselves accountable to a moral center separate from the arbitrary ganglion of laws that, so often get things wrong." Breams are a sort of fish that responds to the sand striker by jetting air around the hidden worm until its uncovered. Despite the somewhat awkward transitions and the frank ignorance that alcohol is a clear problem, it is still potent.
Hybrids: wow, they just tackle all the hard stuff. The Question so many people face, "'What are you?' is an act of taxonomy, even if the asker does not realize it." The child of a Chinese mother and a white father, they have been asked this much of their lives. They become fascinated by hybrid butterflyfish. This is an essay that felt very much like my friends wrestling with such issue in college, way back in 1989, and I wonder how old Imbler is.
We Swarm: Riis Beach, New York: famous for queer culture, there was a time they were there during an inundation of blobby creatures, perhaps salps. Salps periodically swarm for food, unlike Pride in NYC, which is for a variety of reasons. This is a fun piece, a delightful break from the emotional challenge of 'Striker,' or the intellectual challenge of 'Hybrid.'
Morphing Like a Cuttlefish: kingpin cuttlefish are accused of going in drag: males will adopt female patterns to get close to the female for mating. It's a very personal piece that describes in pieces how their sexual evolution morphs.
Us Everlasting: immortal jellyfish actually revert to polyp stage ('ontogeny reversal'). This piece attempts some more poetic license, using second person narrative at times, as well as talking about different lives. "Its immortality is active. It is constantly aging in both directions, always reinventing itself."
The writing is lovely; the science is usually--but not always--cleverly integrated, the perspective interesting, though occasionally so very developmentally young. I'd love to read more about what Imbler does with their life in twenty years.
Many thanks for an advance copy from Netgalley and Little, Brown. Opinions are my own, as is the massive delay in reviewing.
If You Flush a Goldfish: I had no idea how devastating goldfish were in the environment, which makes the fact that they are so common a little bit horrifying. I would have wanted to learn a little more about this. I understand that this is a childhood fascination, but given where the essay ended, with a story of mutually discovered transformation, I would have chosen a different water creature. Perhaps a coral, which utilize a variety of reproductive techniques and go through some cool physical transformations.
"We both had been expected to be daughters but turned out to be something else."
My Mother and the Starving Octopus: Comparing their adolescence, their mother's journey from Taiwan to Michigan, their mutual preoccupation with the size of their bodies, and the story of the purple octopus who nurtured her egg clutch for four and a half years. This one was heart-breaking.
"What I mean to say is: I wanted to know if she ever regretted it."
My Grandmother and the Sturgeon: Weaving together the endangered Chinese sturgeon and its home in the Yangtze river, her grandmother and her family's escape from the Japanese in Shanghai. This one was quite close to perfect, much like a double-strand DNA. Each story parallels the other.
How to Draw a Sperm Whale: I liked this one, although the formatting it vaguely like a report was a challenge. This one tries to parallel their college thesis on sperm whales, information on necropsies, and their first girlfriend, M. (they abbreviate it 'M,' which I found distracting, like we were reading an impression of a medical report, except medical reports would no longer use abbreviations). Given how much I abhor whaling, even the historical accounts of it, it was hard to warm to this section. However, I thought it awkwardly done and felt, well, like a college writing project.
"Conclusion: The proximate cause of death may be falling in love with the idea of a person, or the idea of a relationship."
Pure Life: hydrothermal vents and the deep sea yeti crab, Kiwaidae, and Imbler's time in Seattle, where they moved for an internship. They explore the parallels of space and movement between the crab and them; inhospitable space transformed by a monthly queer POC party, and dancing, the crab farming the bacteria attached to their bristles. "It is exactly suited to the life it leads."
Beware the Sand Striker: a triggering piece on many levels. Sandstrikers are ambush predators. They note their first time giving a blow job to a man, segue into Lorena Bobbit's story and then awkwardly segue into Imbler's drinking blackouts. At no point do they mention alcohol abuse, except to say "I knew vaguely that this happened to me more frequently than the others, but I brushed this off as a quirk, something that made me fun." There's an interesting digression on predation in animal shows, and they segue into the woman who was assaulted by the Stanford swimmer. Tying these both together is an exploration of responsibility: "Almost every system we exist in is cruel, and it is our job to hold ourselves accountable to a moral center separate from the arbitrary ganglion of laws that, so often get things wrong." Breams are a sort of fish that responds to the sand striker by jetting air around the hidden worm until its uncovered. Despite the somewhat awkward transitions and the frank ignorance that alcohol is a clear problem, it is still potent.
Hybrids: wow, they just tackle all the hard stuff. The Question so many people face, "'What are you?' is an act of taxonomy, even if the asker does not realize it." The child of a Chinese mother and a white father, they have been asked this much of their lives. They become fascinated by hybrid butterflyfish. This is an essay that felt very much like my friends wrestling with such issue in college, way back in 1989, and I wonder how old Imbler is.
We Swarm: Riis Beach, New York: famous for queer culture, there was a time they were there during an inundation of blobby creatures, perhaps salps. Salps periodically swarm for food, unlike Pride in NYC, which is for a variety of reasons. This is a fun piece, a delightful break from the emotional challenge of 'Striker,' or the intellectual challenge of 'Hybrid.'
Morphing Like a Cuttlefish: kingpin cuttlefish are accused of going in drag: males will adopt female patterns to get close to the female for mating. It's a very personal piece that describes in pieces how their sexual evolution morphs.
Us Everlasting: immortal jellyfish actually revert to polyp stage ('ontogeny reversal'). This piece attempts some more poetic license, using second person narrative at times, as well as talking about different lives. "Its immortality is active. It is constantly aging in both directions, always reinventing itself."
The writing is lovely; the science is usually--but not always--cleverly integrated, the perspective interesting, though occasionally so very developmentally young. I'd love to read more about what Imbler does with their life in twenty years.
Many thanks for an advance copy from Netgalley and Little, Brown. Opinions are my own, as is the massive delay in reviewing.
January 5, 2023
I love books that are part science, part memoir and this one delivered. There were moments here that left me a bit breathless with their vulnerability and honesty. It was at times difficult to read, at times hopeful and beautiful.
It's always tough to rate non-fiction, especially memoirs, but this is also part science writing. I found that some of the connections between marine life and the author's life worked a bit more seamlessly for me than others. I also think at some points, we spent too much time with the fish and I felt my attention drifting.
That said, this is one that I already want to reread and take my time with. To revisit single essays and appreciate the honesty and clarity with which Imbler writes.
cw: r@pe, sexual assault, alcohol abuse, fat phobia, discussion of weight and weight loss, coming out, transphobia, gender dysphoria
March 5, 2023
Favorite book of the year so far. Incredible.
April 3, 2023
I admit that I feel bad that I didn't like this as much as everyone else did. I really loved the first two essays. I loved all the essays, really. It's having them all in one book that was not really for me.
The format of them is almost all the same (there's a couple slight deviations from form, but only slight) and after a while I found myself feeling stuck in the same rhythm. Personal anecdote, sea creature anecdote, personal anecdote, sea creature anecdote, all of them reflecting back some of the same themes. I felt bad while I was feeling stuck because I think a lot of what Imbler is doing is very important. It is a big deal to show just how much of nature goes outside our expectations on a scientific level, how much gender and sexuality and other things that we humans treat as immutable and identical across all life are not actually that way at all. That there really is science to back up this kind of spectrum of identities and behaviors. But I can't help it, I did feel like I was getting a lot of repetition.
I suspect this was harder for me because the memoir side of the book was often mostly vague, more tied up into general themes than specific experiences. And because the science side was the same, pulling out little stories here and there. I do not really like that kind of memoir or that kind of science writing. I like to go deep. I like to get into the details. I don't like memoirs or science books that only scratch the surface and there was just too much of that here for me as a reader. It's definitely a personal thing, and I suspect many readers will find a lot to love here.
Imbler's writing is poignant and thoughtful, their prose is lovely without being too complex or too precious. The essays, individually, are beautifully rendered and their love for the natural world shines through along with their love for queer community.
The format of them is almost all the same (there's a couple slight deviations from form, but only slight) and after a while I found myself feeling stuck in the same rhythm. Personal anecdote, sea creature anecdote, personal anecdote, sea creature anecdote, all of them reflecting back some of the same themes. I felt bad while I was feeling stuck because I think a lot of what Imbler is doing is very important. It is a big deal to show just how much of nature goes outside our expectations on a scientific level, how much gender and sexuality and other things that we humans treat as immutable and identical across all life are not actually that way at all. That there really is science to back up this kind of spectrum of identities and behaviors. But I can't help it, I did feel like I was getting a lot of repetition.
I suspect this was harder for me because the memoir side of the book was often mostly vague, more tied up into general themes than specific experiences. And because the science side was the same, pulling out little stories here and there. I do not really like that kind of memoir or that kind of science writing. I like to go deep. I like to get into the details. I don't like memoirs or science books that only scratch the surface and there was just too much of that here for me as a reader. It's definitely a personal thing, and I suspect many readers will find a lot to love here.
Imbler's writing is poignant and thoughtful, their prose is lovely without being too complex or too precious. The essays, individually, are beautifully rendered and their love for the natural world shines through along with their love for queer community.
December 14, 2022
This may be my favourite book I’ve read this year, and there’s been some stiff competition.
I would be interested in either of these versions of How Far the Light Reaches, if the two had been separated: the memoir or the science. Imbler’s writing on marine biology is accessible and fascinating, so while it’s not my usual genre, I was completely pulled in. By braiding these two threads together, though, it’s more than the sum of its parts.
It’s a gloriously queer narrative, exploring Imbler’s relationships, gender, and queer community more generally. They also discuss their mixed race identity, both personally and in relation to their mixed race partner. In one essay, they write about how to give a necropsy report of dead whales, and then they reiterate different versions of the necropsy report of a previous relationship, giving a different proposed cause of death each time.
I savored reading this book, looking forward to ending each day with an essay. It’s philosophical, curious, thought-provoking, and kind. It explores queer people as shapeshifters, as swarms, as immortal. I never wanted it to end. Even if you aren’t usually a reader of science writing—I usually am not—I highly recommend picking this one up, and I can’t wait to see what Imbler writes next.
Content warnings: discussion of weight and weight loss, fatphobia, war
Full review at the Lesbrary.
I would be interested in either of these versions of How Far the Light Reaches, if the two had been separated: the memoir or the science. Imbler’s writing on marine biology is accessible and fascinating, so while it’s not my usual genre, I was completely pulled in. By braiding these two threads together, though, it’s more than the sum of its parts.
It’s a gloriously queer narrative, exploring Imbler’s relationships, gender, and queer community more generally. They also discuss their mixed race identity, both personally and in relation to their mixed race partner. In one essay, they write about how to give a necropsy report of dead whales, and then they reiterate different versions of the necropsy report of a previous relationship, giving a different proposed cause of death each time.
I savored reading this book, looking forward to ending each day with an essay. It’s philosophical, curious, thought-provoking, and kind. It explores queer people as shapeshifters, as swarms, as immortal. I never wanted it to end. Even if you aren’t usually a reader of science writing—I usually am not—I highly recommend picking this one up, and I can’t wait to see what Imbler writes next.
Content warnings: discussion of weight and weight loss, fatphobia, war
Full review at the Lesbrary.
Read
April 15, 2023I don't give star ratings to non-fiction, especially memoirs. I don't feel it's my place to add or subtract stars to anyone's lived experience.
In How Far the Light Reaches: A Life in Ten Sea Creatures, Sabrina Imbler examines a selection of marine life and their methods and adaptations of survival, highlighting what makes these creatures unique. Simultaneously, Imbler shares their experience as a queer, nonbinary POC working in science. Each anecdote is paired with a certain sea creature, their traits and habits becoming the jump-off point to an analogous revelation about Imbler themself.
This is a work of thoughtfulness and vulnerability. Some things shared take incredible courage to divulge, and experiences with racism, SA, body image, gender dysmorphia, and homophobia are discussed. If you are in a place to read about such content, I encourage you to pick this up. While these subjects remain difficult, Imbler's way of framing them - through facts about marine life - offers a truly valuable perspective.
What resonates with me most about this book is community. While looking at the systems sea creatures employ to ensure their survival, Imbler celebrates the ways marginalized groups band together to protect each other. As much as this book emphasizes the disproportionate targeting and violence POC and LGBTQ+ groups face, it reinforces that no one need suffer alone. There is always community to be found and welcomed by.
Read this if you're into humans. Read this if you're into non-human animals. Just read this.
In How Far the Light Reaches: A Life in Ten Sea Creatures, Sabrina Imbler examines a selection of marine life and their methods and adaptations of survival, highlighting what makes these creatures unique. Simultaneously, Imbler shares their experience as a queer, nonbinary POC working in science. Each anecdote is paired with a certain sea creature, their traits and habits becoming the jump-off point to an analogous revelation about Imbler themself.
This is a work of thoughtfulness and vulnerability. Some things shared take incredible courage to divulge, and experiences with racism, SA, body image, gender dysmorphia, and homophobia are discussed. If you are in a place to read about such content, I encourage you to pick this up. While these subjects remain difficult, Imbler's way of framing them - through facts about marine life - offers a truly valuable perspective.
What resonates with me most about this book is community. While looking at the systems sea creatures employ to ensure their survival, Imbler celebrates the ways marginalized groups band together to protect each other. As much as this book emphasizes the disproportionate targeting and violence POC and LGBTQ+ groups face, it reinforces that no one need suffer alone. There is always community to be found and welcomed by.
Read this if you're into humans. Read this if you're into non-human animals. Just read this.
April 3, 2023
I found an audiobook of HOW FAR THE LIGHT REACHES by Sabrina Imbler on the Libby app. Check for your local library on the app and read great books for free!📚
Imbler writes magnificent essays about being queer in a straight world, being mixed race in a white world, being gender queer in a binary world, and relates the sometimes elusive experiences and intractable challenges through the mysterious lives of creatures who come from deep in the sea. Imbler tries to bridge the worlds she straddles with her existence and her writing, using the animals' colorful lives, fruits of creative genetics. Each of the essays is about another lesson on survival and adaption that Imbler sees reflected in the history of her life, and in the wild of the ocean.
I love memoirs in which the author includes some kind of technical writing or specialized history, but especially when they include science writing. I learned about sea creatures, and connected emotionally with them, almost as much as I did with Imbler herself. This is a powerful, moving collection for the unexpected, heartbreaking, and affirming stories Imbler shared from the parts of the world we don't always pay attention to.
Rating: 🐙🐋🦀🪼🦈 / 5 sea creatures
Recommend? Yes, for sure!
Finished: March 17 2023
Read this if you like:
👤 Memoirs
🌈 Queer lit
🏞 Science and conservation
🐢 Animals
🌊 The ocean
Imbler writes magnificent essays about being queer in a straight world, being mixed race in a white world, being gender queer in a binary world, and relates the sometimes elusive experiences and intractable challenges through the mysterious lives of creatures who come from deep in the sea. Imbler tries to bridge the worlds she straddles with her existence and her writing, using the animals' colorful lives, fruits of creative genetics. Each of the essays is about another lesson on survival and adaption that Imbler sees reflected in the history of her life, and in the wild of the ocean.
I love memoirs in which the author includes some kind of technical writing or specialized history, but especially when they include science writing. I learned about sea creatures, and connected emotionally with them, almost as much as I did with Imbler herself. This is a powerful, moving collection for the unexpected, heartbreaking, and affirming stories Imbler shared from the parts of the world we don't always pay attention to.
Rating: 🐙🐋🦀🪼🦈 / 5 sea creatures
Recommend? Yes, for sure!
Finished: March 17 2023
Read this if you like:
👤 Memoirs
🌈 Queer lit
🏞 Science and conservation
🐢 Animals
🌊 The ocean
August 1, 2023
This collection of 10 essays weaves together memories and experiences of the author's real life with the rich and varied lives of sea creatures, from octopi, Chinese sturgeon, whales, sand strikers and immortal jellyfish to yeti crabs and more. My favorite part was learning about some deep sea creatures I had never heard of before, the kinds of beings that live in oases around thermal vents on the ocean floor and survive by chemo-synthesis. I loved a story about encountering a bloom of clear, gelatinous creatures known as salps flooding the water of Riis Beach, a historically queer hangout spot in New York. This book wrestles with heavy content- one essay deals with eating disorders and parental pressure to diet, another with sexual assault and blackout drinking. It's hard for me to judge the quality of these essays when my life has not been touched by these topics, but I appreciated the author's honesty and the thoughtful maritime metaphors.
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January 15, 2023
Part-memoir, part marine science, 100% queer and incredible.
I did not think I would relate so hard to this book, and yet I did. I highly recommend it, both from the marine science side and the coming-of-queerness side, and of growing up a child in the calorie-counting sludge of diet culture—and more that hit hard and resonated.
Tread lightly, though. There a ton of trigger warnings, many of which I was not prepared for in what I had thought was an examination of the lives of ten sea creatures through a queer BIPOC perspective. This book is that, and so much more.
I did not think I would relate so hard to this book, and yet I did. I highly recommend it, both from the marine science side and the coming-of-queerness side, and of growing up a child in the calorie-counting sludge of diet culture—and more that hit hard and resonated.
Tread lightly, though. There a ton of trigger warnings, many of which I was not prepared for in what I had thought was an examination of the lives of ten sea creatures through a queer BIPOC perspective. This book is that, and so much more.
January 11, 2023
I think my expectations for this book of hybrid memoir / essays was a bit too high, so I ended up being disappointed. Although I enjoyed both aspects of Imbler's writing -- science journalism about interesting sea creatures and personal stories about their queer identity and experiences -- the essays felt like two alternating threads that weren't well integrated.
I also thought thematically the connections between the sea creatures and Imbler's life didn't quite resonate. Although I loved the idea of combining these two disparate genres, the execution didn't work for me. That said, I learned a lot of cool stuff about the ocean and its inhabitants that I won't forget and I appreciated getting this information from a queer feminist mixed race perspective. I would have liked a book that was just that better, I think.
I read this as an audiobook, which was fine, but I might have appreciated the writing more in print. The author reads the book themselves, which made sense, but when someone who isn't a performer does an audiobook it's never as good as when someone who is does. It was cool to hear Imbler's smile and laugh sometimes when they read certain lines.
I also thought thematically the connections between the sea creatures and Imbler's life didn't quite resonate. Although I loved the idea of combining these two disparate genres, the execution didn't work for me. That said, I learned a lot of cool stuff about the ocean and its inhabitants that I won't forget and I appreciated getting this information from a queer feminist mixed race perspective. I would have liked a book that was just that better, I think.
I read this as an audiobook, which was fine, but I might have appreciated the writing more in print. The author reads the book themselves, which made sense, but when someone who isn't a performer does an audiobook it's never as good as when someone who is does. It was cool to hear Imbler's smile and laugh sometimes when they read certain lines.
November 22, 2023
I'm trying to put my finger on why I was so deeply unimpressed by this book. I love deep sea creatures, and I love personal essays. I also didn't think the writing was bad. I think it comes down to this - I was not surprised by any of these essays. For me, a successful essay needs to be just that - an "essay"- a stab at something, an attempt, a mess. There was something so slick about these, so unproblematic. There was some fundamental tension that was lacking. In each essay, the life of a sea creature served as an analogy for the author's experience as a biracial queer person. Sea creatures, with their strangeness, always inspire in me a sense of awe at the multiple of possible lived existences. I believe the author was going for that. Yet beyond that, I just didn't find anything. And at times the essays read more like checking off sexual orientation/gender identity/racial identity boxes rather than engaging with something nagging and unresolved.
March 5, 2024
I was slightly shocked and deeply disappointed by this book. Hesitant at first about a gay man criticizing a bi woman, I put aside any comment.
But, after reading the one and two star reviews, I realized both men and women were criticizing this book, not because of her gender, but because the book’s premise was faulty.
A book which purports to be essays about Marine Biology, but interweaves those essays with memoir material is dubious, but it has been done. Think Jane Goodall. But Jane wasn’t doing Tik-Tok psychological self-analysis, nor revealing in excruciating detail the depths of her sexual history cum substance abuse.
There is very little science in the essays that has not already been seen in nature periodicals for general audiences.
There is toooo muchhhh anguished self-revelation in the essays that should not have been heard outside the office walls of a licensed practitioner. And, frankly, having heard it, it has nothing to do with fish and mollusks.
But, after reading the one and two star reviews, I realized both men and women were criticizing this book, not because of her gender, but because the book’s premise was faulty.
A book which purports to be essays about Marine Biology, but interweaves those essays with memoir material is dubious, but it has been done. Think Jane Goodall. But Jane wasn’t doing Tik-Tok psychological self-analysis, nor revealing in excruciating detail the depths of her sexual history cum substance abuse.
There is very little science in the essays that has not already been seen in nature periodicals for general audiences.
There is toooo muchhhh anguished self-revelation in the essays that should not have been heard outside the office walls of a licensed practitioner. And, frankly, having heard it, it has nothing to do with fish and mollusks.
August 4, 2024
Contemplating whether it's too late to become a marine biologist
December 21, 2022
The author is a journalist and writer who covers science and queer issues. They are both queer in terms of sexuality and gender as well as being mixed race. This brilliant collection of essays covers many of these elements of their identity by contrasting them with sea creatures that illustrate key elements.
From a brooding octopus mother that starves herself while looking after her eggs we get the author's thoughts on their relationship with their mother and their unhealthy body image. From the life of a Chinese Sturgeon we get their thoughts on their grandmother and mother's origins in China and their family's immigration to the US. Particularly harrowing is their essay on the Sand Striker Worm (formerly named after an abuser whose penis was severed by his victim) and their thoughts on consent and sexual assault in their own life. There are many more essays here as well, each fascinating for the illustrations they provide for all the identities that the author embodies.
Brilliant, scientifically interesting, deeply personal and highly recommended.
From a brooding octopus mother that starves herself while looking after her eggs we get the author's thoughts on their relationship with their mother and their unhealthy body image. From the life of a Chinese Sturgeon we get their thoughts on their grandmother and mother's origins in China and their family's immigration to the US. Particularly harrowing is their essay on the Sand Striker Worm (formerly named after an abuser whose penis was severed by his victim) and their thoughts on consent and sexual assault in their own life. There are many more essays here as well, each fascinating for the illustrations they provide for all the identities that the author embodies.
Brilliant, scientifically interesting, deeply personal and highly recommended.
June 22, 2023
I really liked this collection. It is smart and thoughtful and the writing is very good. The idea is special, using sea creatures to further illuminate memoir. I think the balance wasn't always there, but overall very very good.
Read
May 20, 2024I don’t rate memoirs, but this will stick with me for a long time
March 7, 2023
I was disappointed in this book. Mostly my own fault because I didn’t pay enough attention to the title. How Far the Light Reaches: A Life in Ten Sea Creatures. There it is A LIFE. I am not a fan of memoirs.
This book is largely a memoir. Imbler is a fine writer, and I enjoyed reading about the different sea creatures, their habitats, histories, and their lives. Many will probably comment on how the memoir is artfully woven through the stories of sea creatures. This is true.
But I just wanted to read about sea creatures not the author’s coming of age, coming out, or romances lost and found.
So now fellow memoir haters, you have been warned!
This book is largely a memoir. Imbler is a fine writer, and I enjoyed reading about the different sea creatures, their habitats, histories, and their lives. Many will probably comment on how the memoir is artfully woven through the stories of sea creatures. This is true.
But I just wanted to read about sea creatures not the author’s coming of age, coming out, or romances lost and found.
So now fellow memoir haters, you have been warned!
November 12, 2022
Miraculous and alien creatures live in the sea. Jellyfish which don’t die but clone themselves. Mother octopus who protect their egg cases unto death. Giant worms that hide in the sand until they spring up to grasp their prey. A hybrid fish.
Sabrina Imbler was fascinated by these creatures, and her descriptions of their lives is beautiful. Imbler saw deep lessons in these sea creatures that shed light on their own experience.
Imbler’s debut book is a hybrid, part memoir as a queer person and part nature writing. I marveled at the creatures they so eloquently describes. And was impressed by the original approach of using them as a way to plumb their personal journey. They are frank, confessional about their experience, the confusion and social pressure, the failed love affairs, finally becoming who they were meant to be. It’s an emotional read.
Imber is a writer to watch.
I received an ARC from the publisher through Goodrads. My review is fair and unbiased.
Sabrina Imbler was fascinated by these creatures, and her descriptions of their lives is beautiful. Imbler saw deep lessons in these sea creatures that shed light on their own experience.
Imbler’s debut book is a hybrid, part memoir as a queer person and part nature writing. I marveled at the creatures they so eloquently describes. And was impressed by the original approach of using them as a way to plumb their personal journey. They are frank, confessional about their experience, the confusion and social pressure, the failed love affairs, finally becoming who they were meant to be. It’s an emotional read.
Imber is a writer to watch.
I received an ARC from the publisher through Goodrads. My review is fair and unbiased.
March 4, 2024
They describe this as "Gay 'Blue Planet'", and I agree. I learned about the complex life-path of Sabrina as they awaken to their true queer self, while mapping their life-events intricately to creatures of the under sea world.
Each essay toggles back and forth between marine biology of a fascinating creature (yes, you will learn something new about even goldfish here), and the analogy to Sabrina's life story.
A favorite for me was: "Beware the Sand Striker". A detailed sketch of a Sand Striker adorns the chapter first page. I thought it must be an exaggeration. I started reading about these sea worms that can be as long as 10 feet that spring up out of the sea floor to grab a fish or octopus and instantly suck it down into the sea floor to eat.
I had to look this up immediately on the web - wow - they really look this mean, and gobble whatever might swim over them.
And so do men at college parties. They wait for girls to get too drunk to say 'no', or at least too drunk to remember what they said. Sabrina talks of their times experiencing parties to where 'blackout' occurred and waking up next to a guy, or hearing story details that could not be remembered, were becoming a regular event.
There is such honesty in every essay here, as we discover Sabrina admitting to mistakes or wrong paths, but learning from them and moving forward as their queer personality slowly showed itself.
Each essay got stronger, with the final "Us Everlasting" essay explaining the life of the 'immortal jellyfish'. I get goosebumps as I write this. There was great hope and truth found here.
It's an old trope now that many queer and trans people have a second adolescence. The first happens alongside everyone else's, except you are not yourself.
...
Now comes your second childhood, second adolescence. Maybe you cut off your hair, or maybe you wear chokers. Maybe you fall in queer love for the first time, which feels symphonic when it starts, world-ending when it's over. This second adolescence is bittersweet - full of highs and also plagued by the nagging reminder that ll this could have been yours the first time around.
You will find this book filed under 578.77 at the library, next to "Blue Planet", as there is great strength in the marine biology science in this book. But you are in for a surprise - this is a queer/gay book (306.76) with a science analogy (578.77) as you read a memoir (928.2) about a talented writer's adventure getting to know themself. So, add philosophy too? (126.0)
Solid 5*
Each essay toggles back and forth between marine biology of a fascinating creature (yes, you will learn something new about even goldfish here), and the analogy to Sabrina's life story.
A favorite for me was: "Beware the Sand Striker". A detailed sketch of a Sand Striker adorns the chapter first page. I thought it must be an exaggeration. I started reading about these sea worms that can be as long as 10 feet that spring up out of the sea floor to grab a fish or octopus and instantly suck it down into the sea floor to eat.
I had to look this up immediately on the web - wow - they really look this mean, and gobble whatever might swim over them.
And so do men at college parties. They wait for girls to get too drunk to say 'no', or at least too drunk to remember what they said. Sabrina talks of their times experiencing parties to where 'blackout' occurred and waking up next to a guy, or hearing story details that could not be remembered, were becoming a regular event.
There is such honesty in every essay here, as we discover Sabrina admitting to mistakes or wrong paths, but learning from them and moving forward as their queer personality slowly showed itself.
Each essay got stronger, with the final "Us Everlasting" essay explaining the life of the 'immortal jellyfish'. I get goosebumps as I write this. There was great hope and truth found here.
It's an old trope now that many queer and trans people have a second adolescence. The first happens alongside everyone else's, except you are not yourself.
...
Now comes your second childhood, second adolescence. Maybe you cut off your hair, or maybe you wear chokers. Maybe you fall in queer love for the first time, which feels symphonic when it starts, world-ending when it's over. This second adolescence is bittersweet - full of highs and also plagued by the nagging reminder that ll this could have been yours the first time around.
You will find this book filed under 578.77 at the library, next to "Blue Planet", as there is great strength in the marine biology science in this book. But you are in for a surprise - this is a queer/gay book (306.76) with a science analogy (578.77) as you read a memoir (928.2) about a talented writer's adventure getting to know themself. So, add philosophy too? (126.0)
Solid 5*
June 20, 2024
Really enjoyed this! My ideal memoir blend, I only wish it was a little longer
February 8, 2024
There is so much to love about this book. I love the way Sabrina is so open and honest about their life, identity, and existence. Each essay provides us with a glimpse to their story, a story that is intertwined with a love for sea creatures and science that only Sabrina can blend together. By portraying their life through sea creatures, Sabrina opened the door for strangers to walk in and see a world that is both familiar and strange. Of all the essays I must say that my favorites were definitely "If You Flush A Goldfish" and "We Swarm". Two essays that felt both deeply personal and universal at the same time.
The only reason I give this book a 4.5 and not 5 stars is because there were a couple of essays where the chosen sea creatures and scientific discussions did not easily blend with the story that Sabrina was presenting at the time.
Regardless, I cannot help but love a book where I learned a lot and feel even more.
TW: Animal death, Eating disorder, Racial slurs, Bullying, Cultural appropriation, Drug use, Sexual content, Blood, Dysphoria, Alcohol, Animal cruelty, Grief, Racism, Lesbophobia, Misogyny, Emotional abuse, Rape, and Sexual assault
The only reason I give this book a 4.5 and not 5 stars is because there were a couple of essays where the chosen sea creatures and scientific discussions did not easily blend with the story that Sabrina was presenting at the time.
Regardless, I cannot help but love a book where I learned a lot and feel even more.
TW: Animal death, Eating disorder, Racial slurs, Bullying, Cultural appropriation, Drug use, Sexual content, Blood, Dysphoria, Alcohol, Animal cruelty, Grief, Racism, Lesbophobia, Misogyny, Emotional abuse, Rape, and Sexual assault
July 30, 2024
I think it's an important book, particularly in learning about LGBTQ+, however I came for the sea creatures not the memoir. Imbler is a very good writer and she made sea life fascinating. There just wasn't enough science for me. I found it interesting to a point, and I did learn a few things.
3.5 Stars
Listened to the audio book narrated by the author. She was very good!
3.5 Stars
Listened to the audio book narrated by the author. She was very good!
July 10, 2024
30 Books in 30 Days, Vol. 4
Book 16/30
This was good! My preference would have been for more sea creature facts and less memoir, hence the three stars. The author does a good job narrating the book.
[3.5 stars]
Book 16/30
This was good! My preference would have been for more sea creature facts and less memoir, hence the three stars. The author does a good job narrating the book.
[3.5 stars]
April 6, 2024
Book clubs were not kind to me this month :((((
Was excited to learn about sea creatures and was intrigued by the combination of science writing and memoir but Damn waaaaayy to corny and tenderqueer for me.
unfortunately Imbler has not lived that remarkable of a life?? So propping up sea creatures lives as sometimes pretty crude metaphors for common experiences felt very human-naval-gazy and made the natural world feel reduced rather than expansive. By far the best was when she compared her grandmothers pretty crazy emigration from china to the life cycles of sturgeons.
My cynical speculation is that the secret to its good reviews is that it explains non-binary mixed race identity in a painstakingly earnest way that makes those experiences more legible to middle aged/straight reviewers. Which is useful I suppose but I am unfortunately not that audience. I dunno. Sorry to hate!
Was excited to learn about sea creatures and was intrigued by the combination of science writing and memoir but Damn waaaaayy to corny and tenderqueer for me.
unfortunately Imbler has not lived that remarkable of a life?? So propping up sea creatures lives as sometimes pretty crude metaphors for common experiences felt very human-naval-gazy and made the natural world feel reduced rather than expansive. By far the best was when she compared her grandmothers pretty crazy emigration from china to the life cycles of sturgeons.
My cynical speculation is that the secret to its good reviews is that it explains non-binary mixed race identity in a painstakingly earnest way that makes those experiences more legible to middle aged/straight reviewers. Which is useful I suppose but I am unfortunately not that audience. I dunno. Sorry to hate!
May 8, 2023
I thought this was going to be more about sea creatures than it actually was. I definitely should have read the cover flap a bit more, because I really didn't care about her life. I don't really like any of those types of books so nothing against her. I think if parts of her life resonated with mine I would have been more intrigued. Every time it switched to the sea creatures I read it quickly, and hoped it would continue onto the next paragraph, but when it went back to her life I found myself skiming the page looking to when it goes back to the sea creatures. I got within 40 pages of the end, and just didn't have it in me to keep reading.
January 1, 2023
Just ruined myself for all other books this year. But seriously, this is where pockets of publishing is now and it’s an amazing, beautiful, creative, and smart place to be.
January 21, 2023
The analogies feel so cheaply drawn and half the time, unfortunately silly. Half angsty teenage-ish narrative, half surface level pop science, with a bit of self reflection thrown in. I’m not sure that either worked for me. I typically enjoy science nonfiction filled with anecdotes and bits of personal memoir, but here, very little of the personal stories had anything to do with marine conservation. I also read quite a bit of queer lit, and legitimately struggled to get through the dating and romantic bits.
March 20, 2024
i want to cry because of how much i loved this
April 2, 2024
A galaxy of stars for how scientific and yet deeply personal Sabrina made this truly unique nonfiction work. I was absolutely floored by how vulnerable this work of nonfiction was. I laughed, cried, explored Sabrina's identity right along side of her. What a powerful and immersive work.
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