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Below the Edge of Darkness: A Memoir of Exploring Light and Life in the Deep Sea by Edith Widder
holljmck's review against another edition
adventurous
emotional
funny
hopeful
informative
reflective
medium-paced
4.0
lyellboi's review against another edition
adventurous
informative
inspiring
reflective
medium-paced
5.0
pilotwhale's review against another edition
adventurous
hopeful
informative
inspiring
mysterious
reflective
sad
medium-paced
4.0
ashtronomic's review against another edition
adventurous
funny
hopeful
informative
inspiring
mysterious
reflective
slow-paced
5.0
I know this is quite a niche read, but I loved it so, so much.
Before I begin with my unrelenting praise, I want potential readers to know that this book is quite scientifically dense. Do not read it if you are simply looking for a biography about life at sea. In the acknowledgements, Widder mentions that early drafts of the book were rejected by publishers with the advice, “You need to make it more personal”. It is hard to imagine earlier iterations with even less familiarity with the author than the final copy. The book focuses on her observations, rather than the role she played in them. So, by the end of the book there is no real sense of connection to the author, a trait that is often expected of memiors. However, her passion and sense of humour do shine through in some ways; this book easily has some of the most hilarious footnotes I have ever read.
If you are willing to get technical and, like me, have an affinity for everything related to the deep sea and/or bioluminescence, then this book is perfect.
It is easy to become immersed in Edith Widder's world; I often felt like I was riding alongside her in the submersible visiting the greatest depths of the ocean. Thanks to her background in research, she has an incredible ability to recall and depict even the most minute details about the sea and its inhabitants. Combine her detail oriented perspective with a fantastic talent for explaining complex concepts with similes that are approachable (and often hilariously outlandish), and you have something magical.
In the words of Edith herself, “To look at the surface of the ocean without knowing the sparkling web of life that is woven through its depths is to be blind to its wonders.”
Before I begin with my unrelenting praise, I want potential readers to know that this book is quite scientifically dense. Do not read it if you are simply looking for a biography about life at sea. In the acknowledgements, Widder mentions that early drafts of the book were rejected by publishers with the advice, “You need to make it more personal”. It is hard to imagine earlier iterations with even less familiarity with the author than the final copy. The book focuses on her observations, rather than the role she played in them. So, by the end of the book there is no real sense of connection to the author, a trait that is often expected of memiors. However, her passion and sense of humour do shine through in some ways; this book easily has some of the most hilarious footnotes I have ever read.
If you are willing to get technical and, like me, have an affinity for everything related to the deep sea and/or bioluminescence, then this book is perfect.
It is easy to become immersed in Edith Widder's world; I often felt like I was riding alongside her in the submersible visiting the greatest depths of the ocean. Thanks to her background in research, she has an incredible ability to recall and depict even the most minute details about the sea and its inhabitants. Combine her detail oriented perspective with a fantastic talent for explaining complex concepts with similes that are approachable (and often hilariously outlandish), and you have something magical.
In the words of Edith herself, “To look at the surface of the ocean without knowing the sparkling web of life that is woven through its depths is to be blind to its wonders.”
unladylike's review
2.0
"We've got to science the shit out of this" are the final words of this audio format science-y memoir, and that line was by far the most "in touch" Edith Widder's writing got. It was published in 2021 and explores a subject I have become extremely interested in, so I was quite disappointed at how much of it was boring or difficult to follow. I love the cover design and it intrigued me several times a week on the Featured New Titles shelves of the library.
There are absolutely many fascinating things I learned about in this book, and it prompted me to Google a handful of things that appear much more astounding in photos than in words. And in some way I got what I was asking for: more attention to methodology [than had appeared in some other natural science or psychology books I've read recently]. But Widder's presentation of these cool and mysterious bioregions is a linear account that includes things like what she had for breakfast that day. Worse, every single attempt at making a joke goes kerplunk like the corniest of dad jokes. I kept rolling my eyes and asking myself, "Who is she talking to?" I myself am nearly 40 years old and yet the comparisons, sayings, and pop cultural references she makes throughout this very new book were highly dated - the language spoken here is strictly Baby Boomer.
If there were a deeeply condensed and carved out summary of this book containing photos and all the coolest things she and her colleagues have found, and *some* of the scientific procedural explanations, I would highly recommend it.
As a long-time (rather light) activist for social and ecological justice, I did appreciate the positive attitude she advocates for explicitly. It's easy to feel despair when looking at the facts of how much reckless harm humans have done and continue to do to the one planet we can live on. And Widder makes a convincing argument for a switcheroo of the kinds of budgets dedicated by governments to outer space exploration vs. oceanic exploration. I learned that we have much better maps of several other planets than we do of our own damn ocean floors. Widder says we don't know about the oft-quoted "5%" of the oceans, but closer to 0.01%.
Despite the confidence with which David Attenborough spews superlatives about whichever ocean animal is the "most" something or other, it is more clear from this veteran scientist's perspective that we really don't know very much for certain about most ocean life. That said, I watched a very dramatic and informative documentary about the Great Barrier Reef about three quarters of the way through this book, and then immediately watched the "Deep" episodes of Blue Planet (the first one), and I would highly recommend either of those awe-inspiring videos to the average layperson. Below the Edge of Darkness might be just perfect for a senior retiree with curious dreams of ocean science.
There are absolutely many fascinating things I learned about in this book, and it prompted me to Google a handful of things that appear much more astounding in photos than in words. And in some way I got what I was asking for: more attention to methodology [than had appeared in some other natural science or psychology books I've read recently]. But Widder's presentation of these cool and mysterious bioregions is a linear account that includes things like what she had for breakfast that day. Worse, every single attempt at making a joke goes kerplunk like the corniest of dad jokes. I kept rolling my eyes and asking myself, "Who is she talking to?" I myself am nearly 40 years old and yet the comparisons, sayings, and pop cultural references she makes throughout this very new book were highly dated - the language spoken here is strictly Baby Boomer.
If there were a deeeply condensed and carved out summary of this book containing photos and all the coolest things she and her colleagues have found, and *some* of the scientific procedural explanations, I would highly recommend it.
As a long-time (rather light) activist for social and ecological justice, I did appreciate the positive attitude she advocates for explicitly. It's easy to feel despair when looking at the facts of how much reckless harm humans have done and continue to do to the one planet we can live on. And Widder makes a convincing argument for a switcheroo of the kinds of budgets dedicated by governments to outer space exploration vs. oceanic exploration. I learned that we have much better maps of several other planets than we do of our own damn ocean floors. Widder says we don't know about the oft-quoted "5%" of the oceans, but closer to 0.01%.
Despite the confidence with which David Attenborough spews superlatives about whichever ocean animal is the "most" something or other, it is more clear from this veteran scientist's perspective that we really don't know very much for certain about most ocean life. That said, I watched a very dramatic and informative documentary about the Great Barrier Reef about three quarters of the way through this book, and then immediately watched the "Deep" episodes of Blue Planet (the first one), and I would highly recommend either of those awe-inspiring videos to the average layperson. Below the Edge of Darkness might be just perfect for a senior retiree with curious dreams of ocean science.