The Restless Sea: Exploring the World Beneath the Waves

Did you know that we could end 17% of the excess carbon dioxide that we generate every year to the bottom of the ocean? And do it by fertilizing the plankton with iron spread from a freighter? And that this has actually been tested by marine scientists? If not, read The Restless Sea and learn this plus dozens of other fun facts to know and tell. Kunzig is a kind writer. If a scientist has no personality, he writes about the science. If a scientist happens to be a truly warped human being, we get a paragraph or two about the warpage before Kunzig dives back into the science. If you hate James Gleick's endlessly tedious books (e.g., Chaos), you'll be refreshed by Kunzig's work.

Absolutely the only uninteresting thing in this book is the title (which sounds like the title of a filmstrip you might have watched in school in about the sixth grade, back in the 60's.) It's a survey of what's known about the oceans, from their formation (the current thinking is that the water came from comets) and oceanography, what the engine is that keeps continental drift going (gravity), why jellyfish and so many other sea creatures are transparent (because underwater, there's no reason to waste resources on features like pigment) on and on and on, a wealth of information explained and described perfectly lucidly. He has a gift for writing very well, explaining technical information to the non-technical layman (I was a history major) as well as John McPhee ever could. It turns out that we have mapped the surface of Venus more accurately than the ocean floor. So much of what I thought I knew about the ocean is wrong. Remember those relief maps you see, which show the continental shelf dropping off like the grand canyon into the abyss? Turns out that's not accurate, the continental shelf actually slopes at a very gentle rate, not as steep as the mountain passes the Tour de France racers climb. The maps exaggerate the slopes by a factor of ten, emphasizing the presence of the features over their accuracy.There is so much information in here that I was feeling, as I approached the end of the book, that I should go back through and read it again, for all the stuff I missed.The story isn't told in the first person plural, like a textbook, but rather is related through the stories of the scientists who made the discoveries. For instance, much of our current understanding of how continental drift works was done by a scientist heating a pan of paraffin in his kitchen. Because it's focuses on the stories of the scientists, it's a story as much about the development of science as about strict oceanography, how the limits of knowledge shift as our ability to ask questions and interpret the answers changes.I could go on and on and on, but I won't. This is a wonderful, fascinating book about a very important topic. Read it.

I loved this book. Mr. Kunzig took quite a lot of technical information and made it accessible to the average ocean lover. It made me look much closer when I go out cod fishing, especially at the odd jellies that I never noticed before floating around the boat. I would recommend this book for anyone interested in the seas.

At a time when some scientists fear they are running out of mysteries to explore, this book shows that right here on earth we have a potentially inexhaustible source of marvels and mysteries: the sea. Whether he is pondering the life cycle of plankton or peering at deep-sea vents or tracking the flow of ocean currents, Kunzig always holds my interest. This is science writing at its finiest, passionate, lyrical, vigorously reported. Kunzig does for oceanography what John McPhee did for geology. I loved this book!

The best-written account of what scientists currently know about the ocean since Rachel Carson published her first bestseller, The Sea Around Us, almost 50 years ago. Among other things, it makes you wonder why we're spending so much time, money, and effort exploring the far reaches of outer space when there are so many wonders to be discovered much closer to home--in the 2/3 of our own planet that we're just beginning to fathom.