Carl Safina did a good job on focusing on a travelogue narrative pumped with scientific details on not just the subjects of the book, the leatherbacks, but other sea turtles and organisms related to their livelihood. He traveled to various sites along the Atlantic and Pacific where leatherbacks are known to aggregate for feeding and nesting. He consulted scientists, conservationists, and fisherman and let them speak for themselves. The only sensationalizing here were interjections of poetic scenery description. I appreciate that.

This had two dimensions: human and turtle.

The humans who shared their stories to be written in this book are fishermen, conservationists, and scientists. Safina let these people tell their stories and did not add a certain cast of light to one and a different cast to another. The stories are amusing, enlightening on both intellectual and empathetic grounds, and add dimension not just to the story of the leatherback sea turtle's conservation but our society as a whole.

The turtle dimension was trivia and biological dynamics abound. Even in the introduction one can gleam how unique these turtles are. Some chapters don't discuss the turtles but affiliated counterparts like the squid that they eat or the swordfish they often would get caught with in long lines (now some laws are in place so the situation isn't as inflated). Other chapters tackle nesting and how different issues in different oceans affect populations. Most interestingly is how well-traveled the turtles are and how they are adapted, whether it be north to Newfoundland in cold waters or deeper below the surface than sperm whales.

Other than a few parts that I considered too fluffy, either because of anthropomorphizing poetry toward the beginning and general narrative that sometimes didn't add to the story (that I surrendered to skimming), the book was a substantial read for both social science and ecology interests...and beach travel! There were maps throughout the book so one can geographically follow the adventure.
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Interesting, educational and mostly well written book about sea turtles and the trials they face from egg to death. The author researches the effects of man on sea turtle populations around the globe, and how detrimental effects can be halted, minimised and/or reversed. I would have liked to have read more about turtle ecology and how they interact with other sea creatures, rather than the chapter on swordfish. The book includes photographs. ( )

Love at first page, and I would give this a four and a half. It was very literary for a non-fiction book, with many memorable and poignant passages. Every time I opened it I felt like I was escaping to another world.

There is no doubt that sea turtles (particularly the dinosaur-like leatherback turtles, which are the only living members of their genus, family, and suborder) qualify as “charismatic megafauna.” They feature in South Pacific legends and fables, were considered sacred to Aphrodite in ancient Greece, and were believed to support the world in Mayan, Chinese, Japanese, and Indian legend. Beaches known for attracting laying females are tourist attractions, and “turtle tourism” brings in millions of dollars a year to some communities in Costa Rica. As for the “megafauna” part, an average leatherback turtle weighs about 800 pounds – some weigh close to 1100 – and has a flipper span of eight feet.

One of the South Pacific fables recounted in the book that I particularly enjoyed: A fisherman noticed a large Hawksbill Turtle – a true prize. Without even pausing to anchor his canoe, he dove in after it, and finally managed to catch the turtle. But by then his canoe had drifted far away, and he had to release the turtle so he could try to retrieve his canoe. But he couldn’t and had to swim back to his village without either the turtle or the canoe. Moral: “those who try to do two things at once often accomplish neither.” In other words, be careful when it comes to multitasking…

There was a rather sickening chapter describing harpoon hunting for swordfish. While this was well-written (I kind of wanted to stop reading and at the same time couldn’t) and I learned a lot about swordfish (and the cruelty humans are prepared to inflict on wild animals that haven’t hurt them), it had nothing to do with turtles. This chapter probably would have worked better within the book as a whole if it had been cast as something like “sea turtles and swordfish share similar habitats [which is why the author was on a swordfishing boat to begin with] and here’s how sea turtles (marine reptiles) do things compared to the different way swordfish (true bony fish) get the same thing accomplished.” Unfortunately, it didn’t seem to tie in well with the story of sea turtles as told in the preceding and succeeding chapters. In some ways I wish it had, because it did one thing quite well. Especially when juxtaposed with stories of the lengths people will go to help sea turtles (one scientist helped an arthritic leatherback dig a nest), it darkly illuminated two conflicting aspects of the human relationship with nature. Two passages in particular stuck with me: “What a confusing species we are, by turns murderous and merciful, negligent and attentive, angels of both death and salvation” (page 240) and, “Watching her [a nesting Leatherback Turtle], and the people, I’m reminded of humans’ strange range of treatment of other animals, our deep capacity for kindness and our equal one for cruelty. Each comes naturally, and each is learned in like measure.” (page 17).

The book also describes how imperiled sea turtle populations are, and the conservation efforts being made to save them. Interestingly, turtle populations in the Atlantic and Caribbean are growing or at least stabilizing, while populations of the same species are nosediving in the Pacific. It is possible that some species will become locally extinct in the Pacific but continue doing well in the Atlantic. On the subject of extinction, I have seen so many references to an endangered species “battling” the possibility of extinction that the perspective of this passage struck me, “The death of a species comes as tranquilly as [a] gentle sunrise. There’s no final struggle, no valorous last stand or terminal flourish. Just one final puff of breath, then mere absence. No creature mourns its own passing. The grief and the consequences lie solely with us, but few feel the loss.” (page 238).

There is also an interesting discussion of how we need to start rerouting money for conservation efforts. Logging companies and developers have plenty of money to throw around and don’t hesitate to do it. But conservation groups tend not to have the money, and even if they do there is often the attitude that people shouldn’t have to be paid to conserve resources or protect species (in other words, to do the right thing). The upshot is that people only see the immediate and material benefits of not conserving or protecting, as opposed to the material sacrifice of conserving or protecting. And the material benefits that come from not conserving can include a wide range of undeniably good things – mosquito nets, vaccinations, books, and increased education. Right now, all of this is coming at the cost of tropical rainforests, pristine beaches, and sea turtles – or what many people might see as paradise. And so, “the human heart will cast itself out of Eden every time, because it has needs heaven never addresses.” (page 305).

At the same time, the book also sounds a note of optimism: “Two identical ships, leaving the same harbor on headings differing by just a couple of degrees, will end long journeys on very different shores. We might yet adjust our course.” (page 239).

A further example of the writing style includes what has to be the most poetic description of marine snow ever: “the dust of life from the sunlit surface of the miracle planet, the blue curve of earth.”

And lastly, there are more than scientific reasons to study turtles and think about how they behave:
“Turtles may seem to lack sense, but they don’t do senseless things. They’re not terribly energetic, yet they do not waste energy. Turtles don’t have the intellect to form opinions about greed, oppression, superstition, or ideology, yet they don’t inflict misery on themselves or other creatures. Turtles cannot consider what might happen, yet nothing turtles do threatens anyone’s future. Turtles don’t think about the next generation, but they risk and provide all they can to ensure there will be one. Meanwhile we profess to love our own offspring above all else, yet above all else it is they from whom we daily steal. We cannot learn to be more like turtles, but from turtles we could learn to be more human.” (page 237).
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Love at first page, and I would give this a four and a half. It was very literary for a non-fiction book, with many memorable and poignant passages. Every time I opened it I felt like I was escaping to another world.

There is no doubt that sea turtles (particularly the dinosaur-like leatherback turtles, which are the only living members of their genus, family, and suborder) qualify as “charismatic megafauna.” They feature in South Pacific legends and fables, were considered sacred to Aphrodite in ancient Greece, and were believed to support the world in Mayan, Chinese, Japanese, and Indian legend. Beaches known for attracting laying females are tourist attractions, and “turtle tourism” brings in millions of dollars a year to some communities in Costa Rica. As for the “megafauna” part, an average leatherback turtle weighs about 800 pounds – some weigh close to 1100 – and has a flipper span of eight feet.

One of the South Pacific fables recounted in the book that I particularly enjoyed: A fisherman noticed a large Hawksbill Turtle – a true prize. Without even pausing to anchor his canoe, he dove in after it, and finally managed to catch the turtle. But by then his canoe had drifted far away, and he had to release the turtle so he could try to retrieve his canoe. But he couldn’t and had to swim back to his village without either the turtle or the canoe. Moral: “those who try to do two things at once often accomplish neither.” In other words, be careful when it comes to multitasking…

There was a rather sickening chapter describing harpoon hunting for swordfish. While this was well-written (I kind of wanted to stop reading and at the same time couldn’t) and I learned a lot about swordfish (and the cruelty humans are prepared to inflict on wild animals that haven’t hurt them), it had nothing to do with turtles. This chapter probably would have worked better within the book as a whole if it had been cast as something like “sea turtles and swordfish share similar habitats [which is why the author was on a swordfishing boat to begin with] and here’s how sea turtles (marine reptiles) do things compared to the different way swordfish (true bony fish) get the same thing accomplished.” Unfortunately, it didn’t seem to tie in well with the story of sea turtles as told in the preceding and succeeding chapters. In some ways I wish it had, because it did one thing quite well. Especially when juxtaposed with stories of the lengths people will go to help sea turtles (one scientist helped an arthritic leatherback dig a nest), it darkly illuminated two conflicting aspects of the human relationship with nature. Two passages in particular stuck with me: “What a confusing species we are, by turns murderous and merciful, negligent and attentive, angels of both death and salvation” (page 240) and, “Watching her [a nesting Leatherback Turtle], and the people, I’m reminded of humans’ strange range of treatment of other animals, our deep capacity for kindness and our equal one for cruelty. Each comes naturally, and each is learned in like measure.” (page 17).

The book also describes how imperiled sea turtle populations are, and the conservation efforts being made to save them. Interestingly, turtle populations in the Atlantic and Caribbean are growing or at least stabilizing, while populations of the same species are nosediving in the Pacific. It is possible that some species will become locally extinct in the Pacific but continue doing well in the Atlantic. On the subject of extinction, I have seen so many references to an endangered species “battling” the possibility of extinction that the perspective of this passage struck me, “The death of a species comes as tranquilly as [a] gentle sunrise. There’s no final struggle, no valorous last stand or terminal flourish. Just one final puff of breath, then mere absence. No creature mourns its own passing. The grief and the consequences lie solely with us, but few feel the loss.” (page 238).

There is also an interesting discussion of how we need to start rerouting money for conservation efforts. Logging companies and developers have plenty of money to throw around and don’t hesitate to do it. But conservation groups tend not to have the money, and even if they do there is often the attitude that people shouldn’t have to be paid to conserve resources or protect species (in other words, to do the right thing). The upshot is that people only see the immediate and material benefits of not conserving or protecting, as opposed to the material sacrifice of conserving or protecting. And the material benefits that come from not conserving can include a wide range of undeniably good things – mosquito nets, vaccinations, books, and increased education. Right now, all of this is coming at the cost of tropical rainforests, pristine beaches, and sea turtles – or what many people might see as paradise. And so, “the human heart will cast itself out of Eden every time, because it has needs heaven never addresses.” (page 305).

At the same time, the book also sounds a note of optimism: “Two identical ships, leaving the same harbor on headings differing by just a couple of degrees, will end long journeys on very different shores. We might yet adjust our course.” (page 239).

A further example of the writing style includes what has to be the most poetic description of marine snow ever: “the dust of life from the sunlit surface of the miracle planet, the blue curve of earth.”

And lastly, there are more than scientific reasons to study turtles and think about how they behave:
“Turtles may seem to lack sense, but they don’t do senseless things. They’re not terribly energetic, yet they do not waste energy. Turtles don’t have the intellect to form opinions about greed, oppression, superstition, or ideology, yet they don’t inflict misery on themselves or other creatures. Turtles cannot consider what might happen, yet nothing turtles do threatens anyone’s future. Turtles don’t think about the next generation, but they risk and provide all they can to ensure there will be one. Meanwhile we profess to love our own offspring above all else, yet above all else it is they from whom we daily steal. We cannot learn to be more like turtles, but from turtles we could learn to be more human.” (page 237).
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The Voyage of the Turtle is more than just a book about turtles. This book is also a voyage throughout the many seas the leatherback sea turtles inhabit. by journeying with the turtles, we get to know the people that try to protect them, their nesting sites, the many problems surrounding their conservation, how fisheries hurt the turtles and the seas with their practices. But, most of all, the Voyage is about getting to know one of nature’s oldest and mysterious creatures, creating an empathy bond with its life and destiny.

As with Beyond Words, by the same author, we are taken to the animal world and get to see it through different eyes, eyes not accustomed (or forgetful) to seeing life as life in nature is.

If you want to broaden your empathy circle to encompass more of nature, if you want to, at least for a bit, to break with a human-centered view of the world, this book won’t disappoint you. ( )