Finding ourselves in the ocean: reading Deep Water by James Bradley
Immerse yourself, because this book will change you
‘the ocean offers new ways of imagining the world and our relationship to it’ (17)
Last week I wrote a piece about how writers might reframe the overwhelm of creating stories in a world oversaturated by books and information, by turning our discomfort into an impetus to pursue depth and authenticity in our work. This week I want to celebrate a non-fiction book that could be used as a touchstone in such endeavours, because Deep Water by James Bradley is the perfect example of a work that deserves to be discussed and championed. I love Bradley’s fiction, and when I heard this book was coming, I knew it would be something special - and it is! It’s everything I thought it would be, and so much more.
Deep Water is a sprawling epic that immerses us in the history, culture and science of the ocean, including the planetary conditions that led to its formation, and its diverse ecology and inhabitants. Did you know that dolphins learn language and some populations get high on pufferfish venom, while cleaner wrasse show evidence of having a ‘theory of mind’ and are capable of recognising themselves in a mirror? Or that every night there’s an immense movement of living organisms rising from the ocean’s depths to feed nearer the surface under cover of darkness; or that 2500 metres below the surface, creatures such as shellfish, worms, crabs and shrimps gather around hydrothermal vents, getting energy from chemosynthetic microbes rather than sunlight? There is much joy and fascination to be found in these many small details, but they are only part of the story. Deep Water is also an account of how human curiosity and connection to the ocean has evolved into a nightmare, with greed and destruction decimating the earth’s waters, stripping this brackish world of its treasures at exponential speed. You cannot read about the unconscionable plundering of the oceans without feeling torn between rage and despair, but there is no shying away from the fact that so much of this activity ripples through our lives: the fish in our supermarkets; the goods in our homes (shipped from all over the planet); the seabirds choking on garbage; and the discarded plastic that ends up scattered on beaches and in the water - such as the fragments of a Frozen balloon found at the bottom of the Mariana Trench. Not to mention the plastic and mercury now dormant in our bodies from the poisoned creatures we continue to consume.
As Bradley points out, sometimes we’re not even aware of how much we’ve lost, as we tend to measure the changes in the world via the observable differences to the environment during our lifespan. What would it have been like in the sixteenth century to marvel at an Atlantic so filled with cod that it was difficult to row a boat through them; when nets weren’t needed because these fish could simply be scooped out by dropping a basket into the water? Or to stand on a clifftop overlooking a bay awash with calling, breaching whales? Instead, scarcity is the standard for today’s oceans, thanks to overfishing, water pollution and climate change – and the popular narrative is to blame all of humankind for this. However, the disruption to nature and the climate has largely come about since industrialisation – whereas for thousands of years before that, Indigenous wisdom carefully balanced human need with environmental conservation. The true culprit of our ocean tragedy is the coloniser, whose malignant insistence on control and superiority discards any veneration of the natural world – and Bradley acknowledges in the book that he belongs to the group of people who have benefited from colonial endeavours, living a life of plenty at the expense of others. I feel the weight of that too.
Deep Water transforms our perception of the ocean from a distant, unknowable portion of the world to an entity that is intricately connected to every aspect of our lives. The book also reconnects us to ourselves, through memory, insight and truth-telling. Bradley intersperses generous and vulnerable personal reflections throughout his work, inviting us to consider our own relationships with the ocean. This resonated with me, as my husband and I are drawn to the water. We have spent the past 30 years seeking out such adventures together, since we first learned to scuba dive at university, and many of the most wondrous moments in my adult life have been connected to the ocean. We love spending time on boats, but it was the diving that changed me, when the world I had peered into from above suddenly became an immersive, 3D reality. Instead of looking from a distance, I was part of the ecosystem, with countless creatures around me simply going about their business, and the occasional curious soul coming over for a closer look. It was like visiting an alien planet, and it quickly became addictive. We’ve dived with hammerhead sharks in the Galapagos, been trailed by bat fish and small sharks on night-time dives in Thailand, escaped from angry titan triggerfish in Egypt, and tried to keep up with manta rays and whale sharks in Exmouth. I once even had a cleaner wrasse stay with me for an entire dive, nibbling away at my mask now and then. I’d always thought it was doing a spot of cleaning, but now I wonder if it was simply admiring its own reflection.
I have tried to give back to the ocean in my own small ways, doing beach clean-ups, working on conservation stalls, and supporting not-for-profits fighting development, such as the current battle to stop Woodside’s devastating plans for the Burrup Peninsula here in WA, and the fight to save the Exmouth Gulf*. However, these efforts can easily feel pathetic and pointless in the face of such cataclysmic change. Deep Water transforms that despair into an informed determination to stay the course. It reminds us to support the army of scientists and environmentalists who refuse to give up in the face of insurmountable odds, who work daily to give our frail and fragile ocean, and all the creatures and diversity within it, a fighting chance. Every action is essential, because, as Bradley reminds us in his final chapter, ‘however much is lost, there is still more to save’.
Deep Water is available in bookshops now, or you can purchase online from Booktopia here.
On this subject, please also check out
’s latest podcast and post. Two Torres Strait Islander uncles are suing the Australian government over their failure to prevent climate change and arguing that this negligence has unlawfully breached the government’s duty of care to the Torres Strait community (in Deep Water, Bradley also discusses a previous case called the Torres Straight 8, who took a similar case to the United Nations). A victory could force the government into making stronger decisions to reduce emissions, protect the environment and potentially mitigate at least some of the more devastating effects of climate change. The podcast also details the important ways we can offer support: by signing a pledge to stand in solidarity with the uncles, and by following and sharing this story.
* Tim Winton’s documentary series on Ningaloo offers a fantastic insight into why the Exmouth Gulf is so special and needs urgent protection. And if you enjoyed this post, you might also be interested in these related posts from me:
