When I was 17, one of my best friends wanted to learn how to scuba dive, so we took the course together and did pool-training. But I was neither that interested in it myself, nor was I really up for an open water dive in Tobermory (on top of being a little nervous about getting the calculations wrong and getting narcosis!). I suppose that makes me kind of like the ABD (all but dissertation) of scuba diving.
Recently a friend gave me an extraordinary scuba diving book, Shadow Divers by Robert Kurson, that both re-ignited my interest, but made me totally fearful at the same time. It’s about deep sea wreck divers (a group who have their own fascinating scuba subculture) who discover a previously unknown German U-Boat from World War Two. The basic premise is about how they came to identify which U-Boat it was, and while that made for a compelling narrative, and was the spine of the story, it was only part of what made the book interesting.
Kurson structures the book brilliantly. The book goes back and forth between the narrative of discovering the U-Boat’s identity, with chapters that delve into the lives of the main characters; the science and risk of deep sea diving; the culture of wreck divers; and by the end, the lives of the German soldiers who died on the U-Boat (fortunately for us Jewish readers, the main characters appear to have been anti-Nazis, but I will admit a touch of skepticism as to the degree to which this was true or not).
A central theme of the book is the lengths to which a person can and will go to achieve something extraordinary, and what they learn about themselves in the process. Perhaps it’s more accurate to say that it’s about the lengths a person needs to go if they want to achieve something extraordinary. John Chatternon is the main character who exemplifies this ethos, as do the German soldiers when their story is told at the end of the book. I’ve thought about this question a lot recently: How much does one have to give up and be monomaniacally focused in order to achieve great success? And is that success worth it if it’s achieved at the cost of all the ‘other’ things that make life worthwhile (e.g. family, health, etc.)? Is balance a better goal for most of us, perhaps healthier, but also an approach that leaves one’s potential unexplored? This might deserve a longer post, but the book was a catalyst for my thinking around these questions.
Whether the topic interests you or not, this was an excellent example of compelling non-fiction storytelling, and a very enjoyable read.
Just Because I Liked It:
- I found this interview with Sabastien Yunger, a war journalist, on Sam Harris’ podcast, really interesting. It’s mostly focused on his most recent book about a near death experience, though they go into interesting questions about his experiences during war.