How Far the Light Reaches: A Life in Ten Sea Creatures by Sabrina Imbler, illustrated by Simon Ban.
Little, Brown, and Company, New York, 2022.
Adult nonfiction, 264 pages.
Not leveled.
A unique combination of memoir and science writing by a queer, non-binary, Asian-American author.
Although I’ve gotten back into reading nonfiction again, as of this writing the process has been slow and painful, and it’s harder for adult books to catch and keep my attention. The appealing cover design of this definitely helped, but after starting the first essay, I was hooked.
I haven’t reviewed too many essay collections here lately, so a reminder that I usually consider each separately and then discuss the book as a whole.
Imbler begins the book with a consideration of the past three generations of fir family. If You Flush a Goldfish is about Imbler’s own life and journey of self-discovery, as well as common misconceptions about goldfish.
Imbler’s mother immigrated to a white Michigan town from China. Always feeling like she didn’t fit in, she pressured Imbler about race, gender, education, and more while also giving her all to fir. My Mother and the Starving Octopus covers their relationship as well as Imbler’s to food and fir own body, plus the mysterious lives of octopuses, their unusual reproductive cycle, and a few other deep sea creatures.
My Grandmother and the Sturgeon discusses Imbler’s maternal grandmother, a resident of Shanghai whose family fled during the Japanese occupation. Fi writes about the strange beauty of sturgeon and their unusual transformation between fresh and salt water. Many people walk past them in aquariums, but if you ever have a chance to study sturgeon carefully, they are well worth watching.
The elusive life of whales, and how the industry devoted to their destruction affected the oceans, serves as an elaborate metaphor for an ultimately doomed relationship in How to Draw a Sperm Whale. The following chapter, Pure Life, deals with a move to a new and inhospitable environment and the creatures who survive around deep sea vents.
Imbler is full of highly quotable moments, like this one on page 95:
Though the yeti crab’s environment seems inhospitable to us, it is nothing to be pitied. The pressure does not crush the crab, and the darkness does not oppress it. It is exactly suited to the life it leads, however strange or repulsive we might find it.
Beware the Sand Striker is a difficult but well-written chapter, both through the creepy predator in the title, and the even creepier predators in real life. Then Hybrids considers race, and what it means to be biracial. Imbler especially emphasizes something I’ve also read elsewhere – the importance for multiracial children to be connected not only to both parents’ heritages, but also to have multiracial peers and adult mentors in their lives.
Imbler visits fir favorite beach during Pride in We Swarm, and also considers the life of the little-known salp. Then Morphing Like a Cuttlefish discusses flashing, the rarely considered art of how cuttlefish communicate amongst themselves. Sabrina considers being a person best known for blending in and how different it feels to communicate with one’s own people.
Us Everlasting ends the book on a strange, but also strangely beautiful note. Fourteen different contributors help in this chapter about the infamous immortal jellyfish and the unexpected way in which it is immortal. This chapter is about imagining possibilities, some closer to reality than others.
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It’s difficult to describe this book – it’s sometimes weird and haunting yet Imbler never strays from the topic at hand. Each essay could be read alone, with possible exception of the last one, yet they also come together to form an image of a life. Imbler blends personal and science writing seamlessly.
Seldom with adult books do I get the opportunity to comment on illustrations. This book is not heavily illustrated but each of the ten pieces is fronted by an image of a creature covered in that essay. The images are black and white drawings with heavy use of stippling. Some show a whole creature, others only a part – one bone, a cross-section. The illustrations aren’t fully necessary, but do add to the dreamlike feel of the book. These both help set each essay apart and contribute to the vibe connecting everything together, all creatures swimming in the same aquarium somehow.
Several content warnings. This is an adult book and contains swearing (never gratuitous). Imbler discusses eating disorders with specific details that might be triggering to some readers. One chapter covers a rape and other assaults. Drunkenness to the point of blacking out is discussed. An accidental drowning, recreational drugs, AIDs, and a few other topics are mentioned in passing. Being biracial, non-binary, queer, and the child of immigrants are all subjects discussed along with all of the hatred and prejudice directed at members of these groups.
It’s difficult to convey the beauty of Imbler’s prose. Fi combines the two topics in a way that feels natural and fascinating. Each essay is self-contained, although they overlap like waves one after another pulling at a shore. If you read the subtitle thinking, ‘a life in ten sea creatures, I wonder how that works,’ then you will probably enjoy this book.
Recommended.
Colorful Book Reviews 