Such a beautiful book!

Sabrina Imbler has created something unique and awe-inspiring with this book. It is a blend of personal memoir/narrative and science journalism/nature writing that educates, informs, and inspires. Each essay has it's own aching beautiful story, full of hope, full of questions, and full of information the reader might not have known. At times, this read isn't easy due to the personal nature, but the connections made between personal experiences and the natural world are truly wonderful to read and explore.

The lyricism of Sabrina Imbler's work is remarkable. I wish I could soak in a bathtub of her work for a weekend. Highly recommended.

Thank you to the publisher and Netgalley for providing an advance copy in exchange for honest feedback

Sabrina is such an incredible and lyrical voice when it comes to all things human and ocean... I was lucky to work with Sabrina when they wrote about queerness and tide pools for HCN. An incredible mind.

Thank you to Netgalley and the publishers for giving me free access to the digital advanced copy of this book.

*ARC was provided by Little, Brown and Company through Netgalley.

I really wish I liked this more, especially because I'm also queer and mixed race and heavily related to Imbler in that sense. I had a lot of trouble following the science aspects, which I would say is a personal thing and not necessarily reflective of the writing. This just didn't really work for me.

A mixture of science and memoir, Sabrina Imbler's How Far the Light Reaches finds inspiration in marine life. A goldfish in its bowl seems like a lonely existence, but it is reborn in the wild, creating its own ecosystem. An octopus sets the record for the longest brooding period to protect her eggs. Essays illuminate how close we resemble the animal world.

These essays start off incredibly moving and continue to become spectacular by the end. The marine life allegories to queen life are incredible. Crabs' need to huddle for warmth resembles a queer club as a need for the heat to connect. An ever-changing jellyfish allows one to change their trajectory of desire and gender. Just a beautiful book and one I need to read after all the hate and vitriol going on now.

A beautiful lure that caught me; the lush colors of the cover, the temptation of sea creatures, explorations of identity. Overall, it was an interesting collection of pieces that interested and occasionally challenged me. I can be honest enough to say that Sy Montgomery and her attempts to do something similar drives me bonkers, perhaps because I’ve had my fill of straight, white, middle-class women. Intersectionality and grey areas are everything.

If You Flush a Goldfish: I had no idea how devastating goldfish were in the environment, which makes the fact that they are so common a little bit horrifying. I would have wanted to learn a little more about this. I understand that this is a childhood fascination, but given where the essay ended, with a story of mutually discovered transformation, I would have chosen a different water creature. Perhaps a coral, which utilize a variety of reproductive techniques and go through some cool physical transformations.
“We both had been expected to be daughters but turned out to be something else.”

My Mother and the Starving Octopus: Comparing their adolescence, their mother’s journey from Taiwan to Michigan, their mutual preoccupation with the size of their bodies, and the story of the purple octopus who nurtured her egg clutch for four and a half years. This one was heart-breaking.
“What I mean to say is: I wanted to know if she ever regretted it.”

My Grandmother and the Sturgeon: Weaving together the endangered Chinese sturgeon and its home in the Yangtze river, her grandmother and her family’s escape from the Japanese in Shanghai. This one was quite close to perfect, much like a double-strand DNA. Each story parallels the other.

How to Draw a Sperm Whale: I liked this one, although the formatting it vaguely like a report was a challenge. This one tries to parallel their college thesis on sperm whales, information on necropsies, and their first girlfriend, M. (they abbreviate it ‘M,’ which I found distracting, like we were reading an impression of a medical report, except medical reports would no longer use abbreviations). Given how much I abhor whaling, even the historical accounts of it, it was hard to warm to this section. However, I thought it awkwardly done and felt, well, like a college writing project.
“Conclusion: The proximate cause of death may be falling in love with the idea of a person, or the idea of a relationship.”

Pure Life: hydrothermal vents and the deep sea yeti crab, Kiwaidae, and Imbler’s time in Seattle, where they moved for an internship. They explore the parallels of space and movement between the crab and them; inhospitable space transformed by a monthly queer POC party, and dancing, the crab farming the bacteria attached to their bristles. “It is exactly suited to the life it leads.”

Beware the Sand Striker: a triggering piece on many levels. Sandstrikers are ambush predators. They note their first time giving a blow job to a man, segue into Lorena Bobbit’s story and then awkwardly segue into Imbler’s drinking blackouts. At no point do they mention alcohol abuse, except to say “I knew vaguely that this happened to me more frequently than the others, but I brushed this off as a quirk, something that made me fun.” There’s an interesting digression on predation in animal shows, and they segue into the woman who was assaulted by the Stanford swimmer. Tying these both together is an exploration of responsibility: “Almost every system we exist in is cruel, and it is our job to hold ourselves accountable to a moral center separate from the arbitrary ganglion of laws that, so often get things wrong.” Breams are a sort of fish that responds to the sand striker by jetting air around the hidden worm until its uncovered. Despite the somewhat awkward transitions and the frank ignorance that alcohol is a clear problem, it is still potent.

Hybrids: wow, they just tackle all the hard stuff. The Question so many people face, “‘What are you?’ is an act of taxonomy, even if the asker does not realize it.” The child of a Chinese mother and a white father, they have been asked this much of their lives. They become fascinated by hybrid butterflyfish. This is an essay that felt very much like my friends wrestling with such issue in college, way back in 1989, and I wonder how old Imbler is.

We Swarm: Riis Beach, New York: famous for queer culture, there was a time they were there during an inundation of blobby creatures, perhaps salps. Salps periodically swarm for food, unlike Pride in NYC, which is for a variety of reasons. This is a fun piece, a delightful break from the emotional challenge of ‘Striker,’ or the intellectual challenge of ‘Hybrid.’

Morphing Like a Cuttlefish: kingpin cuttlefish are accused of going in drag: males will adopt female patterns to get close to the female for mating. It’s a very personal piece that describes in pieces how their sexual evolution morphs.

Us Everlasting: immortal jellyfish actually revert to polyp stage (‘ontogeny reversal’). This piece attempts some more poetic license, using second person narrative at times, as well as talking about different lives. “Its immortality is active. It is constantly aging in both directions, always reinventing itself.”

The writing is lovely; the science is usually–but not always–cleverly integrated, the perspective interesting, though occasionally so very developmentally young. I’d love to read more about what Imbler does with their life in twenty years.

Many thanks for an advance copy from Netgalley and Little, Brown. Opinions are my own, as is the massive delay in reviewing.

An excellent read as part-memoir, part-memorial to a lucky ten sea creatures. I especially enjoyed learning more about each creature and how their respective behavior corresponded with the author or their family. Plus, there is an excellent bibliography at the end of the book.

Deeply personal, surprisingly deep educational, and thoughtfully philosophical, Imbler delivers a stunning and rewarding commentary on a wide array of relatable subjects through the lense of marine biology. Part memoir and part essay collection, ‘How Far the Light Reaches’ reminds readers of our connection to all other life and teaches us a few interesting lessons about the highlighted sea creatures along the way. Each story covers a fairly different topic and we get some personal and empathetic perspective on cultural criticisms, sexuality, identity, body acceptance, generational trauma, and much more.

Though this may be a difficult or at times stale read for those who are more interested in the science than the personal reflection, if you love a good memoir and a short nonfiction, ‘How Far the Light Reaches’ is the book for you.

Thank you to the author; Netgalley; and Little, Brown and Company for the opportunity to read an e-galley of this book in exchange for an honest review.

Beautiful essays that intertwine personal history / reflection with cultural criticism, queer theory, and marine biology. Stunning, complex, at times difficult, but always rewarding.

TW: sexual assault, disordered eating/body dysmorphia

OMG.
This. Book. A memoir in which Imbler pairs a personal anecdote or aspect of their life with a different sea creature. It's such a unique structure and premise for a memoir and the way the stories wove together truly made my jaw drop.

Imbler shares deep and intimate aspects of their life as a nonbinary queer mixed Asian person living in California, but at the same time they've set a boundary of how much of their life they're willing to share - and for a memoir / it toes the line perfectly.

There are vulnerable coming of age stories, struggles with family, coming out and their queer identity, as well as grappling with living as a mixed Asian person in the world. This last point spoke to me quite personally and is probably by the essay “hybrids” was probably my favourite.

Other standouts for me were the first essay, “goldfish”, in which Imbler shares surprising information about discarded household goldfish and their ability to rampantly overtake bodies of water; and ‘we swarm’, in which I learned about these fascinating creatures called ‘salps’, and Imbler’s comparison of these generative and swarming creatures to the overnight infusion of lgbtqi people during pride month in NYC.

This is NOT a science textbook, but I was pleased to casually learn about some random aspects of marine biology in a very engaging format. I really loved this book and highly recommend it!

I really liked the idea behind this book. I was so drawn in just from the synopsis. But I just couldn't fully get into it. I had trouble picking it back up because it wasn't really resonating with me. I definitely think it will for a variety of people, but unfortunately wasn't for me.

This was an interesting book in terms of both scientific facts and book structure. The facts parts about the sea animals were amazing and in each chapter Imbler relates a characteristic of the animal to a time or event in their life - unfortunately most of those didn't resonate with me. While some were fascinating, like the story of their grandmother's life in China, or interestingly portrayed, as with the necropsy discussion of both a whale and a relationship, others didn't really match up and felt a bit forced and I found myself fast-forwarding through a couple. I did find Imbler's writing to be engaging and truly hope that they write a non-fiction science book because I would absolutely read that. Thank you to Little, Brown and Company and NetGalley for the advance access in return for my honest opinion.

Hands down my favorite nonfiction book of the year and one of my favorite memoirs period. I love how Imbler casts a queer lens into the lives of these different species and how they are able to tie the creatures attributes to experiences in their own life.

I listened to the audiobook this morning and stopped by a book shop before heading to work because I wanted this one in my collection.

How Far the Light Reaches: A Life in Ten Sea Creatures by Sabrina Imbler is a collection of essays from a queer, mixed race writer working in a largely white, male field. Science and conservation journalist Sabrina Imbler has always been drawn to the mystery of life in the sea, and particularly to creatures living in hostile or remote environments. Each essay in their debut collection profiles one such creature: the mother octopus who starves herself while watching over her eggs, the Chinese sturgeon whose migration route has been decimated by pollution and dams, the bizarre Bobbitt worm (named after Lorena) and other uncanny creatures lurking in the deep ocean, far below where the light reaches. Fusing genres to create a new kind of essay, Imbler's debut collection weaves the wonders of marine biology with stories of their own family and coming of age, implicitly connecting endangered sea life to marginalized human communities and asking how they and we adapt, survive, and care for each other.

How Far the Light Reaches is a merging of scientific exploration and information with a personal memoir. I thought the essay collection was interesting, and that the book would appeal and resonate with many individual- and would frankly be great for some people to read in order to gain empathy and understand others a bit more. However, I have to admit that I was hoping to learn more about sea life and new discoveries than the author's personal life- although this has nothing to do with the narrative of their life and is more about the book not being what I was looking for or needing to read in that moment. I did think that the book was very well written, with plenty of understanding and heart. I think it will be a very important read for some, and enlightening read for many, and a highly engaging read for all. It is a fantastic book- just not what I was looking for when I read it.

This collection of essays blew me away. The author is fascinated with the lives of sea creatures and interweaves tales about their lives with the author's memoirs. There are considerations of queer community, being bi-racial, and relationships with family, amongst others. I loved learning various facts about hydrothermal vents, marine biology, etc., and then suddenly delving into the author's experiences.

Thanks to Little, Brown and Company, the author, and NetGalley for the opportunity to read an e-galley in exchange for an honest review.

These essays are a fascinating blend of scientific explorations of strange sea creatures and personal memoir. Sabrina Imbler ties together the discovery of hybrid butterflyfish and their own relationship to their biracial identity, compares hydrothermal vents on the ocean floor to queer community spaces, and draws parallels between octopuses' self-destructive mothering practices and their own difficult relationship to food inherited from their mother. These essays are powerfully written, and they'll forever change the way you look at the ocean. If you loved Why Fish Don't Exist, definitely check this one out!

I enjoyed this book at looking at the life of sea creatures as a lens to explore the author's own life. I loved the goldfish chapter. Beautiful, atmospheric writing.

4/5 stars. Thanks to NetGalley for arc


So I thought this was a science book, but it's not really. This is a memoir that uses sea creatures as a way to talk about their own life. I won't pretend I wasn't a little disappointed that it wasn't science, but I love a good memoir so it evens out.

This is a look at Imbler's life and their identify in the queer community. The use of sea creatures as a way to explore their own identity was intriguing but not always entirely effective for me.

Nevertheless, I recommend it.