263 pages
English language
Published Nov. 3, 2022 by Little Brown & Company.
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: the mother octopus who starves herself while watching over her eggs, the Chinese sturgeon whose migration route has been decimated by pollution and dams, the bizarre Bobbitt worm (named after Lorena), and other uncanny creatures lurking in the deep ocean, far below where the light reaches. 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 …
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: the mother octopus who starves herself while watching over her eggs, the Chinese sturgeon whose migration route has been decimated by pollution and dams, the bizarre Bobbitt worm (named after Lorena), and other uncanny creatures lurking in the deep ocean, far below where the light reaches. 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 book that invites us to envision wilder, grander, and more abundant possibilities for the way we live.
Soul-searching memoir essays peering through and interrogating analogies in deep sea science for growing up on many outsides, finding queer community, and clear-eyed reflection on sexual assault.
My dad told me a while ago about a writing assignment he had - memoirs disguised like other things - a recipe, an obituary, a research paper. This book delightfully interweaves the author’s experiences and feelings with each informative chapter. I’m going to see if my dad wants to read it
This book was part science, part memoir. The sea creatures are used to reference different points in Imbler's life and ultimately represents the ability to grow and morph into who you truly are. I felt like this was decent. I ultimately felt like I didn't get enough of the memoir and enough of the sea life throughout the book. I kept wishing for more information on both. It was interesting enough, but I think I would look elsewhere if I had a desire to read a science/memoir mashup again.
I love a book that is trying to figure out other ways, other models for living, gathering, and organizing. This book does that, examining the deep sea and setting it alongside Imbler's own life and experiences. My favorite essay in the collection is called "Pure Life," and it examines deep sea heat vents alongside queer gathering spaces.
This was an astonishingly beautiful book. Imbler doesn't shy away from difficult and very personal topics, and yet I found so much of it to be SO relatable. They narrate the audiobook, which I think very much made it all the more resonant. Although, they did mention illustrations that I missed out on, so even more reason to buy a physical copy! This book is profound, and uses marine biology to tell visceral, beautiful, deeply personal stories in a way that felt especially impactful to me.
I loved it, obvy.
Mixed feelings: I loved most of its parts, just not the entirety. Probably because I’m old and cismale, also in large part because I read it too soon after [b:World of Wonders|48615751|World of Wonders In Praise of Fireflies, Whale Sharks, and Other Astonishments|Aimee Nezhukumatathil|https://i.gr-assets.com/images/S/compressed.photo.goodreads.com/books/1577258440l/48615751.SY75.jpg|73952157] and it’s impossible not to contrast them: the describe-a-creature-then-find-parallels-with-my-life thing was less effective this time; it was also a lot harsher in this book, chip on shoulder. I felt deeply sorry for the author, for their pain; also somewhat angry at their parents and parental figures for not teaching boundaries or enthusiastic consent. I feel angry thinking of how many more children out there will suffer because parents shy from difficult conversations.
Imbler writes elegantly. Their marine biology segments are informative and fascinating. Their memoirs profoundly vulnerable, distressing at times but in necessary ways: Imbler’s experiences will be more relatable to young people, but …
Mixed feelings: I loved most of its parts, just not the entirety. Probably because I’m old and cismale, also in large part because I read it too soon after [b:World of Wonders|48615751|World of Wonders In Praise of Fireflies, Whale Sharks, and Other Astonishments|Aimee Nezhukumatathil|https://i.gr-assets.com/images/S/compressed.photo.goodreads.com/books/1577258440l/48615751.SY75.jpg|73952157] and it’s impossible not to contrast them: the describe-a-creature-then-find-parallels-with-my-life thing was less effective this time; it was also a lot harsher in this book, chip on shoulder. I felt deeply sorry for the author, for their pain; also somewhat angry at their parents and parental figures for not teaching boundaries or enthusiastic consent. I feel angry thinking of how many more children out there will suffer because parents shy from difficult conversations.
Imbler writes elegantly. Their marine biology segments are informative and fascinating. Their memoirs profoundly vulnerable, distressing at times but in necessary ways: Imbler’s experiences will be more relatable to young people, but we olds can learn from them. If I had a high-school age person in my life, I would pass my book to them. For my friends, though: if you’ve read World of Wonders, skip this one, or perhaps wait a year or two. If you’ve read neither, but want to read one: both are excellent, pick WoW for a broader view of racism and a wider selection of living beings, pick HFtLR for intense and painful perspectives on toxic masculinity, rape culture, blackout-drinking, queer self-discovery (and a narrow focus on marine biology). You will be better for reading either one.
Favorite excerpt: When the sand striker snatches a fish and begins to feast, it is not thinking of what the fish is feeling. It has no complex brain and no sense of morality, which means its intentions are never cruel. A worm cannot shirk a duty it does not know. But we can.
Picked this up because I enjoy Imbler's work at Defector. Took me a while to get into because I expected it to be mostly about the sea creatures, but after I got over the disappointment at it not being the book I thought I was going to be reading, eventually the autobiographical parts grew on me, and I enjoyed the book I was actually reading.
I was skeptical that the concept would work, but good writing can bridge many gaps. I was drawn in by curiosity about weird sea creatures and was rewarded richly in that realm, but also unexpectedly in metaphorical ties to the author's personal realm, which is also very different from my own.
