A review by lucyfurneaux
Soundings: Journeys in the Company of Whales by Doreen Cunningham

5.0

"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
at the point of her death,
late in the work. Cunningham's solace and terror in the face of being solely responsible for her child's life is complex and also relatable. 

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.