Annotations: Lynne Cox, Swimmer

Cox, Lynne. Grayson. New York: A.A. Knopf, 2006.

I underestimated this book when it first came out, annoyed and distracted by the childishness (I thought) of the cover; also, I had thought the book a fictional fantasy of human-cetacean bonding. In fact, Grayson is a true account, well described, of the 17-year-old Cox's encounter with a seemingly lost baby whale during one of her usual training swims at Seal Beach, California, and of her efforts to swim with the whale, leading it away from the beach and the possibility of a fatal grounding, and to find the whale's mother . . . all while swimming. No boat, no jetski, no kayak, no surfboard, no airplane, no helicopter--and no wetsuit. Cox swims and swims and swims with the baby gray whale. As she describes all that water-time, we get vividly rendered scenes of swimming amidst schools of anchovies, with grunion, with tuna, with bat rays, with dolphins, and whales. Yes, the mother whale arrives to collect her errant offspring, and Cox heads for shore after about three hours in those rather chilly waters off Seal Beach. A well-told tale: I am glad that I have now read it, and I will give copies to family and friends as presents in the future.

This book could be a good English 90 or 92 text.

---. Swimming to Antarctica: Tales of a Long-Distance Swimmer. New York: Harcourt, 2005.

I discovered Cox's aquatic autobiography late in 2008, though I don't know how I had overlooked it before that. I love stories of open water swimming and of the strength of body, mind and spirit that such a pursuit demands. Jenifer Levin's novel Water Dancer has been a favorite novel on this topic for the last 25 or so years of my life--and I still love and prefer that novel to this book--but Swimming to Antarctica has the definite advantage of being non-fiction, of being a set of true tales. (I say "advantage" because students often prefer the non-fiction, the documentary, over stories that are merely made up. Fiction has its own advantages.) Cox is a very determined individual, more positive thinking than anyone I know, and with the life experiences and adversity to back up her positive modeling.

I recommend this book, and I started recommending it before I even finished it, as I read through that first chapter. I am now recalling the chapter in which Lynne Cox sets a record for crossing the English Channel at age 16, and I am wanting to know more; I want to reread now. Where's my copy of Swimming to Antarctica?

(Isn't that the best response to any book?)

Quick Fiction: What He Missed

David kept coming back to it. Did Julia miss him? What did she miss about him, if anything? He'd claimed he didn't want any calls, but he kept checking messages. What did he miss? Her bright eyes and smile, of course. Sweet, soft kisses, juicy curves, cinnamon skin, and . . . her hair. Black river, black storm. Thick, dark flowing. Pulling, twisting, losing himself in it just and he--and she, surely--loved. Is that really what he missed? Mostly, he missed the selfishness, the easy and simple selfishness. Doing what he wanted, doing what she wanted. Now, nothing was simple; nothing was easy. He missed Julia, but he also missed his life before Julia, when he wasn't so selfish, when he wasn't so neglectful of his own home.

Annotations: Jacques-Yves Cousteau

Cousteau, Jacques-Yves, with James Dugan. The Living Sea. New York: Ballantine, 1975.

Jacques Cousteau has always been one of my heroes. I have been a diver most of my life because of my father, my Uncle Bob, and Captain Cousteau. Here is one of his classic texts, a little dated now (originally published in 1963), but still a fine introduction to life in the sea and to human efforts to enter, to observe, and to understand that undersea life.

More importantly, perhaps, this book guides us through the earliest period of scuba-diving and the slow process of applying this new technology of diving to exploring the underwater world, revolutionizing the whole fields of marine biology and oceanography. I've always been a particular aficionado of this early period when scuba was new--and Jacques, remember, was a crucial co-inventor of scuba--and I have always loved reading about that learning curve, that series of trials and errors. Mostly, I just love going underwater with my hero. (Cousteau's famous ship, the Calypso, is the star of much of this book also. Cousteau and her crew are predominantly French, so they needed a container on shipboard that could hold enough wine: a stainless steel "barrel" able to hold three tons of prime vintage!)

I would use excerpts from this book and the next, but the style doesn't work as well as the subject matter does. For a truly inspiring author from this early period of scuba, I turn to Honor Frost, as we shall see.

Cousteau, Jacques-Yves, with Frederic Dumas and James Dugan. The Silent World. New York: Ballantine, 1977.

My favorite of Cousteau's books, originally published in 1950. I always wanted Cousteau to be my father when I first read as a young man--and even as I reread--his description of introducing his two sons to the undersea world. In this volume, we get the true beginning of the scuba-story, complete with the free diving foundation, staving off starvation during World War II through spearfishing (with curtain rods, actually). This book provides the beginning and middle of the "menfish" dream that inspired Cousteau in his efforts to penetrate and plumb the depths; the end of that dream still lies in the future, I would hope and claim. Every diver everywhere owes something to Jacques; when warming up after my own dives, I wear the signature red stocking cap in honor of the Calypso's captain and crew.

Note: The undersea world is actually quite noisy; everybody who puts his or her head underwater for any length of time knows this, and so Cousteau has received a certain amount of criticism and even ridicule for his apparently inappropriate title. If you actually read the book, you find the episode in which his two boys are so excited as their father puts masks on their faces and regulators in their mouths and brings them underwater amongst the fishes, so excited that they can't stop talking, not even to breathe properly, talking so much that the regulators keep falling out of their mouths. Cousteau attempts to focus his children--and safeguard them--by pointing out that the sea is a "silent world" and they need to stop talking for a bit -- and perhaps participate in that "silence" or at least listen, but the two boys are simply too excited by the wonders before them to listen to their father. Who can blame them?

Hence, his quite appropriate and memorable title.

Posing as Myself

At the risk of revealing my intense narcissicism, I am posting four photos of myself from this summer's adventures.

The top photo: Drake's Bay, Ca; foggy, overcast midday. We are cruising at the mouth of the Estero, getting ready to play in the waves on the sandbars there. There's a squid-lid on my head for warmth. Also, I'm wearing my Rocket Fins just in case I'm capsized for speedy recovery. Capsizing will happen: solid practice for rougher days up north in quest of abalone.

The second-from-top photo: Tomales Bay, Ca; foggy morning. Self-portrait. (I hate how my neck bunches up from the wetsuit and the way I'm holding my head. I like this shot because I can see how much older I really am than how old I tend to think I am. Plenty of gray hair and those lines from so much sun and wind, from so many half-thoughts and full smiles.)

The third-from-top photo: Tomales Bay, Ca; different day, cruising back to base. Sofia, my Ocean Kayak Scrambler, is a lovely diving platform and surf-creature, but she's at best a sturdy cruiser and so demands muscle to gain any speed or distance. Here, I'm feeling very relaxed from the efforts and experiences of the day. (This is one of my favorite photos.)

The fourth or bottom photo: Del Monte Beach, Monterey, Ca; ready for a kelp forest jaunt. (And yet, despite such anticipation, I obviously am not comfortable trying to smile for the camera. Why not wait until we are in the water for a photo? Hey, am I too skinny? too fat? What am I worrying about? Take the picture, so we can go and have fun. I know that I asked for a picture. So what, let's go.) Many otters--mommas & babies--that day.

Note: Recently, I received an email reporting that someone else may be presenting himself as "mattduckworthunderwater," as the blogger of this site, as myself (as odd and humorous as that sounds), so these few photos may make such a masquerade slightly more difficult.

Annotations: Eddie Would Go

Coleman, Stuart Holmes. Eddie Would Go: The Story of Eddie Aikau, Hawaiian Hero and Pioneer of Big Wave Surfing. New York: St Martins, 2001.

I like this book, and I like to use it in my English 93 classes.

At first, I felt the book presented a key Hawaiian figure, Eddie Aikau, in a fine, though perhaps too journalistic way. By that I mean, when I assign books to my students, I want the style and the organization as well as the obvious subject matter to be worth attention and emulation, and I underestimated Coleman's presentation at first. His style on the level of the sentence is solid, though unremarkable; however, his organization on the chapter level and within each chapter is intelligent and thoughtful, worth close attention, especially at the English 93 level.

I also appreciate this book for the heroics and the frailty of the main figure, Eddie Aikau. I appreciate the presentation of Hawaiian history, of the difficult and necessary Hawaiian Renaissance, and of specific personal and social issues that waylay the people in the book. The writing is accessible and engaging, and yet in assigning the reading, I can be demanding in terms of student understanding and retention of information in ways that seem perfectly appropriate and useful.

I have teamed this book with three documentaries: Heart of the Sea, Surfing for Life, and Bustin' Down the Door. The first two videos offer significant models for living that our students deserve to be faced with: legendary and extraordinary Rell Sunn, her pioneering surf-career, and her fight against breast cancer; Doc Ball, Fred van Dyke, Peter Cole, Woody Brown, Rabbit Kekai, Anona Napoleon, among others--all surfers in their 60's, 70's, 80's, and 90's! Both videos offer lots of history and social issues as well. The third documentary--Bustin' Down the Door--had a mainstream theatrical release in the summer of 2008, so you may have seen it recently. Eddie Aikau and his brother Clyde Aikau both appear in the film, though the focus is on the Australian and South African surfers who galvanized the sport, who created a professional sport, of surfing. Coleman devotes a chapter to the material in the Bustin' DVD, so using the video is actually essential. (Besides, the tale of Rabbit Bartholomew and Shaun Tomson is gripping in its own right.)

Postcard: Foam Fun

That's my jacket--or the shadow of my jacket--marring an otherwise good photo, especially one taken with a disposable camera. That's why I should upgrade to a proper digital camera. Better quality shot; ability to check the shot on site.

Still, I have to say I like this photo. It puts me back on the beach, and that's what I'm looking for.