Whenever the topic arises, many people I have met excitedly recall a period of fascination for whales and dolphins at some stage in their youth. As with dinosaurs, these ocean giants possess that blend of mystery, immensity and charisma that captures young imaginations and fuel fleeting obsessions. For some of us, the obsession is one we never grow out of, as cetaceans become lifelong subjects of curiosity, empathetic connection and awe. Their enduring appeal makes them a popular subject for literature and natural history books, and as an avid reader of such fare, I was excited to get my hands on a copy of Fathoms: The World in the Whale by Rebecca Giggs.

The book combines science, philosophy, and history—both natural and human—to explore our understanding of whales, our turbulent relationship with them and how it has evolved over time. The author questions accepted narratives, and her own assumptions, about these once-reviled, oft-revered marine mammals. Giggs intersperses facts and science in a way that is highly informative, without the writing feeling like a lesson or a textbook. Rather, she takes us along on her personal journey of discovery and reflection, which roams across a vast range of subjects that touch, or are touched by, the existence of whales.

I had expected a narrative largely based on the author's own encounters with diverse cetacean species, but instead, Giggs focuses on just a few direct experiences with whales. One such example is the prologue, which opens the book with an introspective meditation sparked by her witnessing the drawn-out death of a stranded humpback whale on an Australian shore. Her unflinching yet empathetic style forces us to confront both the dispassionate and the heart-wrenching, a deft nod to the importance of detached, scientific fact that yet leaves room for the poignant and imaginative.

The book that follows is structured into eight chapters, each fronted by a miscellany of words and phrases referring to various points of interest that emerge as the chapter progresses, a Darwinesque shorthand obliquely signposting the curiosities visited in the text. Repeatedly, Giggs begins by taking a grain of information about the physiology or behaviour of whales and uses this as the basis of a conceptual exploration that takes the reader far from the whale itself, reaching out into more philosophical territory. These thought-provoking forays invite us to consider a wealth of ideas and questions beyond, but connected to, the natural history, ecology, and conservation of whales. The book covers a multitude of issues, from the relatively minute—parasites, microplastics, marauding gulls, toxic chemicals, small morsels of whale meat swimming in Japanese soup—to the massive—interstellar weather, invisible deep-sea magnetic mountain ranges, climate change and sound pollution. Few stones are left unturned in the quest to consider the whale from every angle: ecological, political, moral, cultural, gastronomic, social, and beyond. Although occasionally the narrative appears to sail a little off course, this expansive approach does live up to the book's title: an invitation to consider vast concepts with the whale as our lens, cetaceans serving as ecological lynchpins, conceptual touchstones, and storytelling devices through which to interpret the wider world.

The author is drawn to contemplating the dichotomy between the literal and metaphorical separation of whales and humans and our persistent need to bridge and overcome it, examining both the drivers and the impacts of that impulse. She charts the history of how we once feared and mythicized whales, then relentlessly pursued and slaughtered them, and in more recent times, driven by a sense of custodianship and guilt, seek to protect them, grappling with the knowledge that we should leave them be, and the contradictory desire for closeness and interaction. She meticulously delves through the complex layers of how we relate to whales in ways both practical and psychological, and our need to hold them up as a symbol of absolution and hope in the face of our impotence: the campaigns in the 1980s that led to the whaling moratorium and the fact these animals persist to the present day are proof that humanity can come together for the sake of something beyond ourselves. And yet, we have failed to address the myriad threats less blatant and villainous than whaling, but equally devastating in their own insidious ways.

Giggs defies the usual conventions of popular science writing. Poetic, lyrical, and creative, the prose is elevated by its inventive vocabulary, yet not so lofty as to be inaccessible or contrived. I enjoyed this departure from a more straightforward approach, and the way that an unexpected turn of phrase would inspire me to interpret things differently.

I would recommend this book for the way it challenges the neat lines we draw around animals and our attempts to confine their conceptualization to what directly influences them, and is directly influenced by them. In Fathoms, Giggs explores so much beyond what is usually covered in whale-related discourse, and in so doing prompts us to consider these remarkable animals with a mind more open to the depth and breadth of their connections and interdependence with the human and natural worlds.