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Blue Meridian: The Search for the Great White Shark
A classic work of nature and humanity, by renowned writer Peter Matthiessen (1927-2014), author of the National Book Award-winning The Snow Leopard and the new novel In Paradise
National Book Award-winning author Peter Matthiessen takes readers on an expedition to find the most dangerous predator on Earth—the legendary great white shark. On a trek that lasts 17 months and takes him from the Caribbean to the whaling grounds off South Africa, and across the Indian Ocean to the South Australian coast, Matthiessen describes the awesome experience of swimming in open water among hundreds of sharks; the beauties of strange seas and landscapes; and the camaraderie, tension, humor, and frustrations that develop when people continually risking their lives dwell in close proximity day after day. Filled with acute observations of natural history in exotic areas around the world, Blue Meridian records a harrowing account of one of the great adventures of our time.
National Book Award-winning author Peter Matthiessen takes readers on an expedition to find the most dangerous predator on Earth—the legendary great white shark. On a trek that lasts 17 months and takes him from the Caribbean to the whaling grounds off South Africa, and across the Indian Ocean to the South Australian coast, Matthiessen describes the awesome experience of swimming in open water among hundreds of sharks; the beauties of strange seas and landscapes; and the camaraderie, tension, humor, and frustrations that develop when people continually risking their lives dwell in close proximity day after day. Filled with acute observations of natural history in exotic areas around the world, Blue Meridian records a harrowing account of one of the great adventures of our time.
204 pages, Hardcover
First published January 1, 1971
29 people are currently reading
592 people want to read
About the author
Peter Matthiessen
143 books912 followersPeter Matthiessen is the author of more than thirty books and the only writer to win the National Book Award for both non-fiction (The Snow Leopard, in two categories, in 1979 and 1980) and fiction (Shadow Country, in 2008). A co-founder of The Paris Review and a world-renowned naturalist, explorer and activist, he died in April 2014.
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Displaying 1 - 30 of 30 reviews
September 17, 2017
For the shark book completist. There are surprisingly few narrative works out there about sharks (as opposed to handbooks, textbooks, conservation guides, coffee table photo books, etc.--all great but not exactly filled with story appeal) so a work by Matthiessen is something to notice. It's dated now, both in terms of its actual facts (some of its shark lore we now know to be wrong, Prince Edward Island is not in New Brunswick unless I have gone insane) and its social/cultural take on things (apartheid rates a passing mention as a poor system of government, the lone woman diver on board the ship cooks for the men without raising an eyebrow) but in some other respects is pretty all right. Matthiessen mourns the fact that the Norwegian, Russian, and Japanese whaling industries are eradicating whales and other sea creatures (while catching a ride with the Norwegians) and he writes gorgeously and vividly about seeing sharks in the wild. But overall this has the feel of a lesser work, marred by a macho, entitled worldview that isn't flaunted--Matthiessen is too classy for that--but that underpins the whole enterprise.
The voyage he's part of is ostensibly a cultural or research expedition undertaken by a playboy millionaire adventurer, which is nonetheless a transparent effort to win fame and approval by getting underwater footage of the BIGGEST sharks, BIGGER than Cousteau's. Folly, and Matthiessen must have known it, but he went along for the ride and wrote this little book, which documents more days spent futilely searching for sharks than actually encountering them. Eventually they do meet up, and late in the book there's a jarring moment when he mentions that one of his fellow divers, a mild-mannered Australian, kills as many sharks as he can whenever he's in the water. He slits their bellies open with his diving knife, because sharks have attacked two of his friends, killing at least one. It's a horrifying example of vengeful privilege and it passes without comment or reflection. Matthiessen is an accomplished writer but this is a shallow work.
The voyage he's part of is ostensibly a cultural or research expedition undertaken by a playboy millionaire adventurer, which is nonetheless a transparent effort to win fame and approval by getting underwater footage of the BIGGEST sharks, BIGGER than Cousteau's. Folly, and Matthiessen must have known it, but he went along for the ride and wrote this little book, which documents more days spent futilely searching for sharks than actually encountering them. Eventually they do meet up, and late in the book there's a jarring moment when he mentions that one of his fellow divers, a mild-mannered Australian, kills as many sharks as he can whenever he's in the water. He slits their bellies open with his diving knife, because sharks have attacked two of his friends, killing at least one. It's a horrifying example of vengeful privilege and it passes without comment or reflection. Matthiessen is an accomplished writer but this is a shallow work.
February 1, 2015
Peter Mathiessen' Blue Meridian: The Search for the Great White Shark provides as useful antidote to the excesses of both sides of the debate. Mathiessen is one of our great nature writers and an environmentalist from the days before it became fashionable. Peter Gimble invited him along on a trip to South African waters to see if they could get some film footage of great whites from the inside of free-floating aluminum cages. The plan was to follow whaling ships out of Durban who, after harpooning the whale, inflate them with air so they will float and can be towed into shore later. On occasions when many sharks have been present, attracted by the blood, a frenzy has erupted that, after six or seven hours, might leave only the backbone. C. carcharias has a fearsome reputation. In Australia the great white is known as the " death" and numerous documented accounts exist of them attacking small skiffs and dories. A good friend of one of the divers on Gimble's trip had been bitten in half by a great white. His diver companion had hauled the top half back to shore where he took some photographs (which could never be sold because of their gruesome nature) before reporting the incident.
One great white that had been harpooned by a whale boat had a jaw measuring a vertical opening of three feet. While in South Africa, the team experienced the lunacy of apartheid. Two shipmates from the Cape who had been hired to work on their boat were formally classified as "" by the South African government, but they were light enough to pass as white and often went to European bars where they were rarely challenged. On one evening they were accompanied by the second engineer who looked so "black" that he was told to leave even though he was officially classified as "white" but he had forgotten his card that proved it. " In other words, this weird classification of human beings isn't even efficient, so that in the end all the dull cruelty it has meant for millions will have been in vain."
One great white that had been harpooned by a whale boat had a jaw measuring a vertical opening of three feet. While in South Africa, the team experienced the lunacy of apartheid. Two shipmates from the Cape who had been hired to work on their boat were formally classified as "" by the South African government, but they were light enough to pass as white and often went to European bars where they were rarely challenged. On one evening they were accompanied by the second engineer who looked so "black" that he was told to leave even though he was officially classified as "white" but he had forgotten his card that proved it. " In other words, this weird classification of human beings isn't even efficient, so that in the end all the dull cruelty it has meant for millions will have been in vain."
March 21, 2022
2.5 stars
In the 1970s, the author managed to get himself on an excursion that is filming a movie about sharks. Matthiessen learns how to dive with one of those cages to keep him safe from any sharks that may come by.
The book couldn’t keep my attention and I kept falling asleep (granted, it was also a busy, stressful week). It was very slow to read, even when I was paying attention. I wasn’t happy with the animals (particularly the whales) they used as bait to attract the sharks. There was also very little about the sharks themselves, beyond how dangerous they are. I wanted to know more about the sharks, and not the emphasis on how dangerous, which I feel has contributed to the scary shark stereotype. But then, the focus was more on making the movie. The cages were cool – it sounded like they were fairly new at the time. There were some really good photos included in the book. Overall, though, I was disappointed in this.
In the 1970s, the author managed to get himself on an excursion that is filming a movie about sharks. Matthiessen learns how to dive with one of those cages to keep him safe from any sharks that may come by.
The book couldn’t keep my attention and I kept falling asleep (granted, it was also a busy, stressful week). It was very slow to read, even when I was paying attention. I wasn’t happy with the animals (particularly the whales) they used as bait to attract the sharks. There was also very little about the sharks themselves, beyond how dangerous they are. I wanted to know more about the sharks, and not the emphasis on how dangerous, which I feel has contributed to the scary shark stereotype. But then, the focus was more on making the movie. The cages were cool – it sounded like they were fairly new at the time. There were some really good photos included in the book. Overall, though, I was disappointed in this.
June 30, 2008
A good enough story of expedition chasing after great white sharks, but rather pedestrian and narrow in focus compared to M's classic The Snow Leopard.
April 8, 2020
A really phenomenal accompaniment to the film Blue Water White Death. Very well written. A great read.
February 27, 2022
Fun read of adventurous documentary production, even if some of the narratives about animals are a bit dated.
June 25, 2015
As I mentioned in an earlier post, I’m a huge Peter Matthiessen fan, and when a recent featured author in the New York Times “By the Book” section said that he also was, and mentioned Blue Meridian in particular, I thought I’d better give it a look.
This book has the virtues of Matthiessen’s best non-fiction. It is superbly written, includes a great deal of arcane information (the man was a great researcher, or at least employed one), and it portrays a search for one of nature’s most magnificent and fearsome creatures, not (as in Matthiessen’s greatest nonfiction book) the snow leopard, but the great white shark.
It’s almost as if the post-Hemingway generation—Matthiessen along with Norman Mailer, James Jones, William Styron, Irwin Shaw, Matthiessen’s pal George Plimpton—felt some obligation to do adventurous things and write about them, as if measuring themselves against Hemingway’s macho past. In this case, Matthiessen goes down to observe the Great White in a fairly flimsy metal cage, and also, on various occasions, swims among sharks while they’re feeding. The idea is that they’re busy enough feeding on fish that they won’t bother with the humans. It’s a good theory, and turns out to be true, though the group didn’t try it with the Great White. But do you really want to test such a theory with your life?
The stories of what Great Whites have done (like attack small boats and overturn them so they could feed on the people inside. People actually died that way), and the descriptions of finally encountering them are simultaneously thrilling and terrifying; Matthiessen is a marvelous descriptive writer. The man was a novelist, of course, so he does a wonderful job of characterizing the various people on the expedition and his encounters with them, also their interactions in a rather difficult environment. The expedition was headed by Peter Gimbel, heir to the department store fortune, who wanted to make a documentary about the Great White, and actually did. Everything depended on getting good footage of that particular shark, and finally he got spectacular footage. But his obsession with it was akin to Ahab’s in Moby Dick. He travelled to the Caribbean, to the whaling grounds off South Africa, and to Australia. He would have gone to hell to get that footage.
There’s something slightly dilettantish about the whole project, an heir to a fortune who’s trying to find something to do with his life so he decides to make a great documentary film. He hires an all-star crew, great divers, great cinematographers (Matthiessen tagged along just to observe). One has the feeling that his whole self-image is involved.
But the crew actually killed whales so they could attract Great Whites, and killed other fish as well. They killed fish in order to see this other fish, and to satisfy the ego of this lunatic millionaire. No one on the expedition questioned that basic premise. I found it somehow sickening, just as revolting as all the killing Hemingway did to prove he was a man (to himself, apparently. Did anyone else care?).
Matthiessen did not become a Buddhist until some years later, so it doesn’t seem appropriate to hold up Buddhist standards to this earlier time. This adventuresome ideal goes a long way toward explaining the way he wrote about Buddhism; he essentially saw it as a heroic venture where he was trying to accomplish something, rather than a religious practice that would lead to a better life. Maybe he adjusted as he got older and practiced more (I’m judging by the early book Nine-Headed Dragon River: Zen Journals 1969-1982). We all tend to be somewhat heroic when we start out.
But let’s look at what’s actually happening in Blue Meridian: a man kills a number of whales, and a great number of fish, so he can make a documentary movie and make something out of his life. Does that make sense?
Not to me. I think the whales would agree.
This book has the virtues of Matthiessen’s best non-fiction. It is superbly written, includes a great deal of arcane information (the man was a great researcher, or at least employed one), and it portrays a search for one of nature’s most magnificent and fearsome creatures, not (as in Matthiessen’s greatest nonfiction book) the snow leopard, but the great white shark.
It’s almost as if the post-Hemingway generation—Matthiessen along with Norman Mailer, James Jones, William Styron, Irwin Shaw, Matthiessen’s pal George Plimpton—felt some obligation to do adventurous things and write about them, as if measuring themselves against Hemingway’s macho past. In this case, Matthiessen goes down to observe the Great White in a fairly flimsy metal cage, and also, on various occasions, swims among sharks while they’re feeding. The idea is that they’re busy enough feeding on fish that they won’t bother with the humans. It’s a good theory, and turns out to be true, though the group didn’t try it with the Great White. But do you really want to test such a theory with your life?
The stories of what Great Whites have done (like attack small boats and overturn them so they could feed on the people inside. People actually died that way), and the descriptions of finally encountering them are simultaneously thrilling and terrifying; Matthiessen is a marvelous descriptive writer. The man was a novelist, of course, so he does a wonderful job of characterizing the various people on the expedition and his encounters with them, also their interactions in a rather difficult environment. The expedition was headed by Peter Gimbel, heir to the department store fortune, who wanted to make a documentary about the Great White, and actually did. Everything depended on getting good footage of that particular shark, and finally he got spectacular footage. But his obsession with it was akin to Ahab’s in Moby Dick. He travelled to the Caribbean, to the whaling grounds off South Africa, and to Australia. He would have gone to hell to get that footage.
There’s something slightly dilettantish about the whole project, an heir to a fortune who’s trying to find something to do with his life so he decides to make a great documentary film. He hires an all-star crew, great divers, great cinematographers (Matthiessen tagged along just to observe). One has the feeling that his whole self-image is involved.
But the crew actually killed whales so they could attract Great Whites, and killed other fish as well. They killed fish in order to see this other fish, and to satisfy the ego of this lunatic millionaire. No one on the expedition questioned that basic premise. I found it somehow sickening, just as revolting as all the killing Hemingway did to prove he was a man (to himself, apparently. Did anyone else care?).
Matthiessen did not become a Buddhist until some years later, so it doesn’t seem appropriate to hold up Buddhist standards to this earlier time. This adventuresome ideal goes a long way toward explaining the way he wrote about Buddhism; he essentially saw it as a heroic venture where he was trying to accomplish something, rather than a religious practice that would lead to a better life. Maybe he adjusted as he got older and practiced more (I’m judging by the early book Nine-Headed Dragon River: Zen Journals 1969-1982). We all tend to be somewhat heroic when we start out.
But let’s look at what’s actually happening in Blue Meridian: a man kills a number of whales, and a great number of fish, so he can make a documentary movie and make something out of his life. Does that make sense?
Not to me. I think the whales would agree.
July 9, 2020
This was a reread, triggered by some recent trends related to great white sharks - their appearance in what seems to be larger numbers than expected off the coast of my home province of Nova Scotia, and their apparent disappearance in the waters off the Cape. This book, written in 1970 by the great late natural history writer Peter Matthiessen, raises a good many questions from the deep. Matthiessen remarks that great white shark attacks on small boats around Maine and Nova Scotia were commonplace - news to this Nova Scotian. But what is truly jarring is the astonishing lack of knowledge about the Cape populations. The book is about a film crew's quest to do the first cage dive with a great white, and it begins off South Africa - but off the coast of Durban, where the crew went out with whaling vessels in the hopes of filming sharks attracted to the harpooned leviathans. At great cost, they then went to Sri Lanka and Madagascar and finally got the footage they needed off the south Australia coast. The end result was the classic documentary "Blue Water, White Death."
But 30 years later, there was a well-established white shark cage diving industry in the Cape waters around Gaansbaai and other places nearby. My wife and I did such a dive in 2001 and I did a story for Reuters at the time and mentioned the book, which I read then for the first time, noting how it highlighted how little was known about the shark and its range at that time. The Cape should have been their first destination.
So, how did they miss this? Is it possible that the great whites were not there in significant numbers then - do their populations in some regions rise and fall in response to changing ecological conditions? If that is the case, perhaps when the film was being made, there were few great whites off the Cape, just like today. Or does it highlight indeed how little we knew about the shark and its habits and range in 1970?
I plan to pursue these questions for a story ....
But 30 years later, there was a well-established white shark cage diving industry in the Cape waters around Gaansbaai and other places nearby. My wife and I did such a dive in 2001 and I did a story for Reuters at the time and mentioned the book, which I read then for the first time, noting how it highlighted how little was known about the shark and its range at that time. The Cape should have been their first destination.
So, how did they miss this? Is it possible that the great whites were not there in significant numbers then - do their populations in some regions rise and fall in response to changing ecological conditions? If that is the case, perhaps when the film was being made, there were few great whites off the Cape, just like today. Or does it highlight indeed how little we knew about the shark and its habits and range in 1970?
I plan to pursue these questions for a story ....
January 12, 2013
This book had lay on my shelf for some time. This year being the 90th birthday of Stan Waterman, one of the books main protoganists, and the death this year of Ron Taylor, another major character in the book; I was prompted to finally crack it open. The book details the search for the mysterious Great White Shark by an expedition during the 1970's. The story is a true adventure, as very little was know about this animal during the time. The book is also a great representation of politics during the time period. Side plots deal with whaling (still legal at the time) and the apartheid system (which the team encounters when they visit South Africa). All the characters in the book would go on to be major explorers of the undersea world in the future. It is a shame that as the years pass, we lose these incredible personalities. I would recommend this book to anyone who enjoys adventure travel writing, in particular undersea adventure. A great book!
December 15, 2019
This is another true life adventure that Peter Matthiessen delivers in his methodical, descriptive style that really grounds the reader in place and circumstance. I enjoyed the wide geographic sweep of the expeditions and the descriptions of natural history in some really remote parts of the globe.
The animal that is the focus of the events portrayed, the Great White Shark, is an incredibly magnificent creature and the world's largest predatory fish. I first "encountered" the Great White while reading Susan Casey's "Devils Teeth", another highly recommended true life adventure story.
The animal that is the focus of the events portrayed, the Great White Shark, is an incredibly magnificent creature and the world's largest predatory fish. I first "encountered" the Great White while reading Susan Casey's "Devils Teeth", another highly recommended true life adventure story.
March 19, 2015
Peter Matthiessen is always readable and this book almost demands to be consumed quickly. Reading it now, several decades after it was written, is quite eye opening not only in terms of shark and marine conservation, but also in terms of dealing with places like South Africa which have changed a great deal. Well worth the time even for people who don't consider themselves hard core nature writing enthusiasts.
September 1, 2011
Before Peter Benchley scared everyone out of the water with his 1974 novel "Jaws," Peter Matthiessen was writing eloquently about the Great White shark, the apex predator of the oceans. The film "Blue Water, White Death" was based on this book. His writing, along with the journals kept by diver Valerie Taylor, make this a must-have book for anyone interested in marine biology.
February 18, 2017
I found this book in a box from the Sault Ste Marie public library. This book is an interesting, highly informative page turner. Peter Matthiessen is an insightful, educational author. His graphic account (including post attack photographs) of Rodney Fox surviving a Great White shark attack on the Great Barrier Reef was bone chilling and horrific.
November 28, 2018
I started reading a book about finding sharks and a behind-the-scenes journal broke out.
Too many direct quotes from the divers' and crews' journals. I stopped reading halfway as there was no real thread connecting anything. It felt like endless descriptions of people interspersed with second-hand-news journals about making a documentary.
Too many direct quotes from the divers' and crews' journals. I stopped reading halfway as there was no real thread connecting anything. It felt like endless descriptions of people interspersed with second-hand-news journals about making a documentary.
December 18, 2021
It's an interesting book. The knowledge is incredibly dated.
If you view it more of a historical memoire then it's a fun read.
If you're looking for more information on what sharks are like, I'd find another book.
The writing is well done, there are issues but, it was a nice read even if a lot of the content wasn't.
If you view it more of a historical memoire then it's a fun read.
If you're looking for more information on what sharks are like, I'd find another book.
The writing is well done, there are issues but, it was a nice read even if a lot of the content wasn't.
August 21, 2018
I almost didn't make it past the first chapter, which was a disturbing look at the whaling industry, but I'm glad I did. Matthiessen tells an exciting story that relates the exhaustion of film making, the thrill of the chase, cultural inequity, natural wonders, and the awe-inspiring great white.
August 13, 2024
“A first bird, the sooty shearwater, slides like a shadow in the trough of the unlit sea” (8).
“A giant bird, bone-white but for upper wing coverts and under wing tips, and a thin band at tail tip and wing’s trailing edge, all of these black; its beak and legs a pale pink, like a sun-worn conch shell high above the tide line—this is the wandering albatross of the southern oceans, the greatest flying bird on earth” (9).
“In late July, I joined the film crew at Hog Island, across the channel from Nassau, where a house had been rented that had a dock and even a small workshop-laboratory. I was fresh from my first two diving lessons in the Florida Keys, where neither instructor had accompanied me into the ocean, and where I had been forced to go to the aid of a fellow student whose straits were scarcely more dire than my own. My third lesson, which came from Gimbel, was more helpful than the other two put together.
After twenty years of experience, Peter Gimbel is one of the best divers in the business; it is he who obtained for Life the first pictures of the Andrea Doria, lying in 225 feet of water in the treacherous, dark North Atlantic currents off Nantucket. He is also a first-rate teacher, taking the trouble to explain the theory of diving as well as the practice of it; he knows that an extra scrap of knowledge might save your life. More important still, he dives with you and watches you and sets up such small tests and emergencies as pulling out the mouthpiece of one’s air line; these things can happen by accident underwater and may cause an inexperienced diver to panic. (It is panic, not true danger, that kills most divers. Drowning is a far more common cause of death than the celebrated air embolism, which itself is ordinarily a result of panic; a frightened diver decides he must get to the surface now, and grabs a big breath of air which he forgets to expel as he ascends. Near the surface, where ambient pressure is rapidly decreasing, the pressure of the air still in his lungs is no longer equalized, and his big breath, expanding, ruptures his lungs” (20).
“Just below the rim of the Blue Hole were rock gardens of sessile sea life—algae, corals, anemones, hydroids, and the flower-like filaments of fan worms…” (23).
“Watching the needle on the depth gauge and straining to clear my mask and ears, I did my best not to gasp all my precious air away. Over our heads the round mouth of the Blue Hole was taking shape against the sunlit surface of the sea; I felt immersed in a heavy element, like a fly in amber—the surface above appeared liquid.
Abruptly, at seventy feet, the cage was locked in a vault of dark cold water. In the Blue Hole, the thermocline is so well defined that one’s legs may be in the frigid abyss and one’s chest in the tropic sea of the Yellow Banks…” (23).
“The cage had entered a blue realm of dream. The water glistened as if with its own light, and utter silence made the scene more awesome, a nether world of open mouthed dead staring forms that moved in slow predestined circles: having no air bladder to buoy them and lacking a true breathing apparatus, most sharks must draw oxygen from the water pouring through their opened jaws and washing over their gill surfaces, and are doomed to keep swimming from birth to death. Because they do not weigh much more than the water they displace, their movements seem effortless; they glide forever through the seas like missiles lost in space” (54).
“Some of the sharks carried remoras, which attach themselves to larger creatures by means of a disc on the top of the head, and all were accompanied by pilotfish, a small member of the jack family with vivid striping, blue on black. The visibility was well over 100 feet, and the pilotfish shimmered like striped petals as far away as one could see the sharks, which formed and vanished in the ocean mist. From below, the long-winged white-tips were surreal, silhouetted on the silvered sun like ancient flying beasts” (55).
“The Aldabra lagoon is a pale waste of white tide flats and clear mangrove creeks where nests of frigate birds and red-footed boobies overhang the water on all sides: in the mangrove green, the red throat pouches of the male frigate birds gleamed like apples. Fairy terns and the blue pigeon raced overhead on the sunny wind and white-eyes and drongos came confidingly to the low branches.
This tranquil scene was marred almost immediately by Homo sapiens…” (124).
“some say that ‘the fishe’ who swallowed Jonah was the great white shark” (171).
“More than once I went ashore and prowled the tide pools. I have spent hours of my life crouched beside tide pools, watching the slow surge of simple organisms still close to the first pulse of life on earth. On Dangerous Reef are gaudy giant limpets, and companies of blue, black and banded periwinkles, and the green snail and a brown cone and a very beautiful cream flute with zigzag stripings; also rockfish and the great fire-colored rock crabs that grow enormous in the deeps, and a heart-colored sea anemone, and a garden of hydroids, barnacles and algae” (186).
“A giant bird, bone-white but for upper wing coverts and under wing tips, and a thin band at tail tip and wing’s trailing edge, all of these black; its beak and legs a pale pink, like a sun-worn conch shell high above the tide line—this is the wandering albatross of the southern oceans, the greatest flying bird on earth” (9).
“In late July, I joined the film crew at Hog Island, across the channel from Nassau, where a house had been rented that had a dock and even a small workshop-laboratory. I was fresh from my first two diving lessons in the Florida Keys, where neither instructor had accompanied me into the ocean, and where I had been forced to go to the aid of a fellow student whose straits were scarcely more dire than my own. My third lesson, which came from Gimbel, was more helpful than the other two put together.
After twenty years of experience, Peter Gimbel is one of the best divers in the business; it is he who obtained for Life the first pictures of the Andrea Doria, lying in 225 feet of water in the treacherous, dark North Atlantic currents off Nantucket. He is also a first-rate teacher, taking the trouble to explain the theory of diving as well as the practice of it; he knows that an extra scrap of knowledge might save your life. More important still, he dives with you and watches you and sets up such small tests and emergencies as pulling out the mouthpiece of one’s air line; these things can happen by accident underwater and may cause an inexperienced diver to panic. (It is panic, not true danger, that kills most divers. Drowning is a far more common cause of death than the celebrated air embolism, which itself is ordinarily a result of panic; a frightened diver decides he must get to the surface now, and grabs a big breath of air which he forgets to expel as he ascends. Near the surface, where ambient pressure is rapidly decreasing, the pressure of the air still in his lungs is no longer equalized, and his big breath, expanding, ruptures his lungs” (20).
“Just below the rim of the Blue Hole were rock gardens of sessile sea life—algae, corals, anemones, hydroids, and the flower-like filaments of fan worms…” (23).
“Watching the needle on the depth gauge and straining to clear my mask and ears, I did my best not to gasp all my precious air away. Over our heads the round mouth of the Blue Hole was taking shape against the sunlit surface of the sea; I felt immersed in a heavy element, like a fly in amber—the surface above appeared liquid.
Abruptly, at seventy feet, the cage was locked in a vault of dark cold water. In the Blue Hole, the thermocline is so well defined that one’s legs may be in the frigid abyss and one’s chest in the tropic sea of the Yellow Banks…” (23).
“The cage had entered a blue realm of dream. The water glistened as if with its own light, and utter silence made the scene more awesome, a nether world of open mouthed dead staring forms that moved in slow predestined circles: having no air bladder to buoy them and lacking a true breathing apparatus, most sharks must draw oxygen from the water pouring through their opened jaws and washing over their gill surfaces, and are doomed to keep swimming from birth to death. Because they do not weigh much more than the water they displace, their movements seem effortless; they glide forever through the seas like missiles lost in space” (54).
“Some of the sharks carried remoras, which attach themselves to larger creatures by means of a disc on the top of the head, and all were accompanied by pilotfish, a small member of the jack family with vivid striping, blue on black. The visibility was well over 100 feet, and the pilotfish shimmered like striped petals as far away as one could see the sharks, which formed and vanished in the ocean mist. From below, the long-winged white-tips were surreal, silhouetted on the silvered sun like ancient flying beasts” (55).
“The Aldabra lagoon is a pale waste of white tide flats and clear mangrove creeks where nests of frigate birds and red-footed boobies overhang the water on all sides: in the mangrove green, the red throat pouches of the male frigate birds gleamed like apples. Fairy terns and the blue pigeon raced overhead on the sunny wind and white-eyes and drongos came confidingly to the low branches.
This tranquil scene was marred almost immediately by Homo sapiens…” (124).
“some say that ‘the fishe’ who swallowed Jonah was the great white shark” (171).
“More than once I went ashore and prowled the tide pools. I have spent hours of my life crouched beside tide pools, watching the slow surge of simple organisms still close to the first pulse of life on earth. On Dangerous Reef are gaudy giant limpets, and companies of blue, black and banded periwinkles, and the green snail and a brown cone and a very beautiful cream flute with zigzag stripings; also rockfish and the great fire-colored rock crabs that grow enormous in the deeps, and a heart-colored sea anemone, and a garden of hydroids, barnacles and algae” (186).
September 30, 2023
I am afraid that I am being sucked inexorably into the vortex of Peter Matthiessen titles. I read The Snow Leopard, and while I really enjoyed it, I can’t say that it struck me as quite the masterpiece that many hold it to be (it’s possible that this is because I had recently read a few Bill Bryon books, which are a rather different kind of travel writing). In Blue Meridian, however, Matthiessen displays his full abilities to write beautiful prose, and to put his subject foremost and not make everything about himself.
If I had any criticism to make, it’s that the author is often absent, and relying heavily on the (block-quoted) diaries and letters of the expedition’s crew, particularly Valerie Taylor, who herself writes piercingly and captivatingly. On the other hand, this contributes to the perfect 360 degree view of not only sharks and the intricacies of underwater filming (albeit in the 1960s), but also the perfect touch of the interpersonal relations on the expedition that make it not just a technical description.
Matthiessen is definitely among the better nature writers that I have encountered, and the 0.5 readers of this blog will probably be seeing some more of him in the future.
If I had any criticism to make, it’s that the author is often absent, and relying heavily on the (block-quoted) diaries and letters of the expedition’s crew, particularly Valerie Taylor, who herself writes piercingly and captivatingly. On the other hand, this contributes to the perfect 360 degree view of not only sharks and the intricacies of underwater filming (albeit in the 1960s), but also the perfect touch of the interpersonal relations on the expedition that make it not just a technical description.
Matthiessen is definitely among the better nature writers that I have encountered, and the 0.5 readers of this blog will probably be seeing some more of him in the future.
January 25, 2023
This book only became interesting to me after I finished it and read about the author's life as a CIA operative who founded the Paris Review as an intel gathering op. If I had the expectation of a memoir about a nearly failed documentary production this would've felt like less of a slog, but I was expecting more nature writing with info about sharks. The whole story is kind of butch and I think next time I read it with the lens of documentary filmmaking I'll probably have a better time. Some of the writing was beautiful, some of it was repetitive and a little tedious, which did a nice job of showcasing the boredom of working on such a project. I'm also wondering what kind of CIA shit Mattiessen was getting up to as they made stops throughout the Indian Ocean.
November 23, 2024
I read this after watching the documentary that goes with it, Blue Water White Death. I loved them both. The book is written in a way that keeps you interested and gives you so much more details about the inner-workings of the expedition and the things we didn’t see. There are excerpts about everything. And yes, some of it, both in shark facts and in cultural and societal perspectives, is out dated but the writing is amazing. I couldn’t put it down. The Taylors are weird people, the way Valerie talks about not knowing Ron at all, despite being married is crazy. But the group as a whole, I found likeable.
This entire review has been hidden because of spoilers.
May 6, 2024
Read the book after watching the accompanying documentary, which I liked. I think he is a good writer and some passages describing the voyages are excellent. I think the narrative dragged at points. Overall a pretty good read
November 7, 2024
3.5. I enjoyed the shark attack survivor stories and much of the information. Some of the information the author included seemed kinda pointless to me. Seeing how people treated the ocean in 1970 it is no surprise that we are where we are today.
August 23, 2022
i’m biased because this book is very special to me. BUT i found it informative and engaging! also kind of looking forward to a future career in this world
April 19, 2024
Definitely a product of its time, the flashes of prose are worth the read and enhances the experience of the documentary it chronicles.
May 25, 2014
Blue Meridian: The Search For the Great White Shark by Peter Matthiessen (Random House 1971) (597.3). The incomparable Peter Matthiessen takes his readers on a search across many months and many seas in search of a fearsome predator. My rating: 7/10, finished 1979.
December 27, 2008
Pretty good, but nowhere close to his masterpiece, "The Snow Leopard"
June 28, 2016
I wrote a review: http://www.learntodivetoday.co.za/blo...
May 3, 2014
Zissou without the Zissou.
May 30, 2016
Now I just want to go see them again. I will have to try and find the movie. The book is a perfect snapshot of the time.
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