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3.83 AVERAGE
3.83 AVERAGE
adventurous
emotional
hopeful
informative
inspiring
reflective
sad
slow-paced
adventurous
emotional
informative
medium-paced
I enjoyed this book but not for the reasons I thought I would. This was a slightly bizarre memoir about trauma that isn't fully explored in the book but is to the author related to whales.
I found the storyline about her time in Utquigvik fascinating and would have liked more on that and more exploration and perspective.
I was not expecting a single mother narrative and whilst originally grating it was a different story to the usual male dominated nature writing.
I would have liked more whales and less ponies and motherhood, but I think that's more in the marketing of this book than the content because it is about Cunningham's experiences.
I did get frustrated with quite how badly planned her trip was to see the grey whale migration given you can easily see grey whales from shore all along the west coast if you just go in the right month.
I found the storyline about her time in Utquigvik fascinating and would have liked more on that and more exploration and perspective.
I was not expecting a single mother narrative and whilst originally grating it was a different story to the usual male dominated nature writing.
I would have liked more whales and less ponies and motherhood, but I think that's more in the marketing of this book than the content because it is about Cunningham's experiences.
I did get frustrated with quite how badly planned her trip was to see the grey whale migration given you can easily see grey whales from shore all along the west coast if you just go in the right month.
Content Warnings
Moderate: Addiction, Alcoholism, Animal death, Death, Sexual content, Grief, Medical trauma, Abortion, Pregnancy, Alcohol, Colonisation
Minor: Suicide, Car accident
adventurous
challenging
dark
emotional
hopeful
informative
inspiring
reflective
sad
medium-paced
This was described to me as a book about whales but it turned out to be more a book about the author and her toddler, and the varying ways they were accommodated by others. I found myself sympathizing with the retirees grumpily nonplussed by the presence of an unexpected small child -- I too expected and would have preferred an experience dominated by whales and unalloyed by the many needs and demands of two-year-olds.
"This is a wonder of the world, a migration like no other: I can't feel my body, can't speak. Every surge of water, every pair of rolling backs splitting the waves, every breath fracturing the air with spray, sings of life and survival through unimaginable distances and challenges."
This book moved me like few have. I was utterly gripped by the first page, one of the most masterful - and evidently journalistic - I've read in a while. And the quality stayed at that level the whole way through.
Cunningham weaves the story of the journey she undertook with her son Max following the grey whale migration from Baja, Mexico to Alaska with that of a much earlier trip to the Arctic she undertook as a young journalist. Inside both of these narratives is a memoir of her difficult childhood, the life and times of her challenging pony Bramble, and how she came to be a single parent of little Max living in a women's refuge. It's a lot to take in, but I felt that the memoir, journalism, and nature writing were masterfully woven together into a profound and stunning piece of narrative non-fiction.
My whale obsession began with Moby-Dick and sperm whales, bolstered by the stunning Leviathan: or, The Whale by Philip Hoare. But Cunningham's evocation of the grey whales - the protective and resilient mothers of the sea - and their monumental journey up the west coast of the Americas has utterly captivated me. Many reviews I read after finishing this book seemed to complain that it wasn't a book about whales - an accusation I find baffling. I learned so much about the grey whale from this book, and it has set me off on a new obsession.
But this is not just a whale book; it is a climate crisis book, centring on the Iñupiat community of Alaska. Cunningham deftly explores the complex history and society of this community while filling the work with deep love and care. In knew so little about Iñupiat history and life, and once again gained so much knowledge and understanding. It was extraordinary to read about the whale hunt and the significance of the bowhead. More than that, to see this isolated and marginalised community as at the very edge of the climate crisis: the first ones to see it, the first to feel the effects.
The personal memoir elements of the novel were challenging and perhaps the least skilfully managed. But they were crucial to the book's significant emotional impact. A former pony-mad child, I loved the story of Bramble, and its inclusion came to make more sense
She is not always the most likeable of narrators. She makes strange choices, takes odd risks, and heavily anthropomorphises the whales even as she aims to view them through a scientist's lens. And yet she is self-aware. She is frequently terrified, and pushes through. She makes choices I cannot imagine being brave enough to take. She has had a hard and complicated life, and is never quite settled. I found her a bit mad, and inspiring. And her writing is magic.
I was unutterably moved by this book. I will return to it time again. Maybe one day I will travel west to see grey whales. This will be the book that inspired me.
challenging
hopeful
reflective
slow-paced
adventurous
emotional
hopeful
informative
inspiring
reflective
sad
medium-paced