Lush and literate. The author both explains and deepens the enigmas of the sea.




A writer immersed in the lore and life of the sea returns with some ruminations about his favorite subject, interweaving the stories of literary and other artists whose lives were inspired by and/or ended in the ocean.

Hoare (The Sea Inside, 2014, etc.) adores the sea, swims in it regularly (weather be damned!), visits significant sites near it, reads about it, and finds mystery and magic in whale songs—for further enlightenment on that subject, read his 2010 book, The Whale. In these chapters, which could be stand-alone essays, as well, Hoare rehearses the stories of a number of literary giants whose lives were sea-soaked in various ways. Among these figures are Percy Bysshe Shelley, Herman Melville (Hawthorne has some cameos, as well), Wilfred Owen, Siegfried Sassoon, Henry David Thoreau, Jack London, Virginia Woolf, and numerous others. Some serve as principal’s in Hoare’s narrative, while others dog paddle on the surface or swim slyly just below. The author does not always get his facts right—e.g., Allegra was not the daughter of Shelley but of Byron; the Hudson River is nowhere near Niagara Falls—but the narrative current is so strong and the language so seductive and even hypnotic (think: waves on a midnight beach) that most readers won’t worry about occasional minor inaccuracies. In the manner of biographer Richard Holmes, Hoare travels to the key locations as his stories progress; he fully understands that standing on the ground and swimming in the water gives his observations stability and gravitas. The beaches where Owen walked, Cape Cod (where Plath and Hughes had stayed), Porthmadog (the seaside community in Wales where Shelley and his first wife, Harriet, lived for a while)—these and other locations Hoare writes about with an intimacy that only a visitor could achieve.

Lush and literate. The author both explains and deepens the enigmas of the sea.

Pub Date: April 2, 2018

ISBN: 978-0-226-56052-6

Page Count: 416

Publisher: Univ. of Chicago

Review Posted Online: Jan. 22, 2018

Kirkus Reviews Issue: Feb. 1, 2018

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Loads of good explaining, with reminders, time and again, of how much remains unknown, neatly putting the death of science...


Bryson (I'm a Stranger Here Myself, 1999, etc.), a man who knows how to track down an explanation and make it confess, asks the hard questions of science—e.g., how did things get to be the way they are?—and, when possible, provides answers.

As he once went about making English intelligible, Bryson now attempts the same with the great moments of science, both the ideas themselves and their genesis, to resounding success. Piqued by his own ignorance on these matters, he’s egged on even more so by the people who’ve figured out—or think they’ve figured out—such things as what is in the center of the Earth. So he goes exploring, in the library and in company with scientists at work today, to get a grip on a range of topics from subatomic particles to cosmology. The aim is to deliver reports on these subjects in terms anyone can understand, and for the most part, it works. The most difficult is the nonintuitive material—time as part of space, say, or proteins inventing themselves spontaneously, without direction—and the quantum leaps unusual minds have made: as J.B.S. Haldane once put it, “The universe is not only queerer than we suppose; it is queerer than we can suppose.” Mostly, though, Bryson renders clear the evolution of continental drift, atomic structure, singularity, the extinction of the dinosaur, and a mighty host of other subjects in self-contained chapters that can be taken at a bite, rather than read wholesale. He delivers the human-interest angle on the scientists, and he keeps the reader laughing and willing to forge ahead, even over their heads: the human body, for instance, harboring enough energy “to explode with the force of thirty very large hydrogen bombs, assuming you knew how to liberate it and really wished to make a point.”

Loads of good explaining, with reminders, time and again, of how much remains unknown, neatly putting the death of science into perspective.

Pub Date: May 6, 2003

ISBN: 0-7679-0817-1

Page Count: 304

Publisher: Broadway

Review Posted Online: May 20, 2010

Kirkus Reviews Issue: April 1, 2003

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Ackerman writes with a light but assured touch, her prose rich in fact but economical in delivering it. Fans of birds in all...


Science writer Ackerman (Ah-Choo!: The Uncommon Life of Your Common Cold, 2010, etc.) looks at the new science surrounding avian intelligence.

The takeaway: calling someone a birdbrain is a compliment. And in any event, as Ackerman observes early on, “intelligence is a slippery concept, even in our own species, tricky to define and tricky to measure.” Is a bird that uses a rock to break open a clamshell the mental equivalent of a tool-using primate? Perhaps that’s the wrong question, for birds are so unlike humans that “it’s difficult for us to fully appreciate their mental capabilities,” given that they’re really just small, feathered dinosaurs who inhabit a wholly different world from our once-arboreal and now terrestrial one. Crows and other corvids have gotten all the good publicity related to bird intelligence in recent years, but Ackerman, who does allow that some birds are brighter than others, points favorably to the much-despised pigeon as an animal that “can remember hundreds of different objects for long periods of time, discriminate between different painting styles, and figure out where it’s going, even when displaced from familiar territory by hundreds of miles.” Not bad for a critter best known for bespattering statues in public parks. Ackerman travels far afield to places such as Barbados and New Caledonia to study such matters as memory, communication, and decision-making, the last largely based on visual cues—though, as she notes, birds also draw ably on other senses, including smell, which in turn opens up insight onto “a weird evolutionary paradox that scientists have puzzled over for more than a decade”—a matter of the geometry of, yes, the bird brain.

Ackerman writes with a light but assured touch, her prose rich in fact but economical in delivering it. Fans of birds in all their diversity will want to read this one.

Pub Date: April 12, 2016

ISBN: 978-1-59420-521-7

Page Count: 336

Publisher: Penguin Press

Review Posted Online: Feb. 17, 2016

Kirkus Reviews Issue: March 1, 2016

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