Life most likely originated in the oceans, and it is to oceans that astronomers are looking to find life elsewhere in the universe. With the publication last year of Kevin Peter Hand’s Alien Oceans, I decided this was the right time to finally review Ocean Worlds, a book that I have been very keen to read ever since buying it some years ago. This, then, is the first of a two-part dive into the story of oceans on Earth and elsewhere.

Ocean Worlds: The Story of Seas on Earth and other Planets, written by Jan Zalasiewicz and Mark Williams, published by Oxford Press in December 2017 (paperback, 302 pages)

Palaeobiologists Jan Zalasiewicz and Mark Williams have previously collaborated on The Goldilocks Planet. Here, they provide a deep history of our oceans. As soon as I tucked in, it became clear that they go deeper than Eelco Rohling did in the previously reviewed The Oceans: A Deep History, a book that focused heavily on palaeoclimatology. Even though most of the action in Ocean Worlds takes place on Earth, and the wider universe is only considered in the opening and closing two chapters, the book is characterised by an almost cosmic perspective on the subject. The writing of Zalasiewicz and Williams is such that I felt as if was surveying major developments in the history of our universe from an elevated, slightly detached, almost omniscient position. The result is thrilling and at times awe-inspiring. What follows are some of the big questions and outrageously fascinating topics they consider.

To have an ocean we first need water. Hydrogen was an immediate byproduct of the Big Bang. Oxygen, however, did not appear until after the universe had gone through its first cycle of stars being born and dying, as its creation required nuclear fusion. Likely, the formation of water had to wait for a few hundred million years, though some have argued it could have started much sooner. As is usual when dealing with processes that took place in such a distant past, opinions are divided and there are several reasonable scenarios.

“the book is characterised by an almost cosmic perspective on the subject […] The result is thrilling and at times awe-inspiring.”

With water present in the universe, how did Earth acquire its oceans? After all, “There is a wild card here, which surely had an impact” (p. 18). We have good evidence that our proto-Earth, called Tellus by some, was hit by a small planetoid, Theia, with the resulting debris forming our current Earth–Moon system. This event would likely have obliterated what early oceans we had, if any. Various authors have proposed that certain meteorites (carbonaceous chondrites) or comets might have subsequently been water’s cosmic delivery vehicle.

However it got here, the first major effect it had was kick-starting plate tectonics. The early Earth was hot, but without the lubrication provided by water, the heat-venting mechanism of plate tectonics was not in place. How did molten rock make its way to the surface? Some scientists argue that it was through simple vertical conduits, so-called heat pipes, which would have made for a radically different surface topography: “the fundamental proportions of land area and ocean area […] would have been utterly different to today’s familiar patterns” (p. 34). Though, again, this idea is contested by others. The puzzle of when plate tectonics started, possibly 3 billion years ago, relies on truly ancient rocks, 3.5 to 3.8 billion years old, of which we have precious few remaining in places such as Australia and Greenland.

Beyond those earliest days, Ocean Worlds has much interesting material about later episodes. Life likely started in the oceans, this much I knew, but these were iron seas. Water without oxygen can hold large amounts of dissolved iron, and early organisms used this in their biochemistry to generate energy. This was the realm of the Archaea: the salt-tolerant, heat-loving, chemoautotrophic microbes for whom oxygen was poison and the Great Oxygenation Event murder. It was also a time when banded iron formations (BIFs) were built up, relevant to us today as they formed the ore deposits providing most of our iron and steel. Though, as clarified here, their formation was anything but straightforward. Other fascinating episodes are the Messinian Salinity Crisis, some 5.6 million years ago, when the Mediterranean repeatedly dried up, leaving behind kilometre-thick salt layers that reduced global ocean salinity.

“However it got here, the first major effect [water] had was kick-starting plate tectonics.”

Of course, a book about oceans has to consider current human impacts. With due diligence, the authors tackle the problems of overfishing, shifting baselines, trawling, litter, ocean warming, oxygen loss, and acidification, and conclude that: “there currently seems not the faintest chance of stopping carbon emissions over many decades, let alone overnight” (p. 191). Does this sound gloomy? I prefer the word “sobering”. Consider, they write, that the “more-than-tripling of human population” (p. 183) was enabled by the invention of the Haber–Bosch process and the plentiful artificial fertiliser it made available. To this, they add geologist Peter Haff’s argument of the technosphere that resonated with me. “The 7 billion humans on Earth today are kept alive only through the continuous action of an enormous, globally interlinked system of transport and communication, metabolized by the use of vast amounts of energy […] Without it, most of us would not be alive—and therefore we are forced to keep it going” (p. 197).

If that was not sobering enough, what really made me feel small was when they pulled back from our timescale and the current “brief ecological wrecking spree” (p. 195), to the long-term future. Our oceans are not forever. As the Sun grows hotter they will evaporate, though the “end of the oceans is not likely to be simple” (p. 207). Whether through a moist greenhouse phase where water is gently siphoned off into space by solar winds, or a runaway greenhouse hot enough to melt rock, a dry future awaits, and plate tectonics will once again grind to a halt. As this process “is unlikely to simply just stop, smoothly and without fuss” (p. 211), expect some extraordinary landscapes.

“Our oceans are not forever. […] Whether through a moist greenhouse phase where water is gently siphoned off into space by solar winds, or a runaway greenhouse hot enough to melt rock, a dry future awaits.”

Amidst these grand, cosmic scenes, the authors highlight the human stories behind this research. Such as the pioneering contributions to oceanography by the people on board the HMS Challenger expedition, the mapping of the seafloor by Marie Tharp, or the work of Wally Broecker who established a link between ocean currents and rapid climatic changes. And while Svante Arrhenius is better remembered for linking historical changes in carbon dioxide concentrations to past ice ages, both he and Fritz Haber tried to extract gold from sea water. Unsuccessfully, I might add.

In the last two chapters, the authors turn their gaze to the skies once more, discussing past and present oceans inside and outside of our solar system. With the many discovered by the Kepler space telescope, “We are on the verge of not just a new chapter in oceanography—or exo-oceanography, if you like—but of setting up an entirely new library of oceans, for the diversity and complexity of cosmic oceans will be beyond anything that we can dream of” (p. 264).

I explore this topic more in-depth in my review of Alien Oceans. But, as a warming-up exercise and a proper deep history of oceans, Ocean Worlds is a fantastic book that strikes the right balance. Zalasiewicz and Williams present fascinating science with enviable ease, without smoothing over the fact that science is rarely a straightforward affair, proceeding by means of conflicting scenarios and competing hypotheses. The deep-time perspective and big questions asked make this one awe-inspiring book.

Ocean Worlds

Other recommended books mentioned in this review:

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Marine biologist Helen Scales returns for her third book with Bloomsbury’s popular science imprint Bloomsbury Sigma. After shells and fish, she now drags the reader down into the darkest depths of the deep sea. Both a beautifully written exploration of the ocean’s otherworldly wonders and a searing exposé of the many threats they face, The Brilliant Abyss is Scales’s most strident book to date.

The Brilliant Abyss: True Tales of Exploring the Deep Sea, Discovering Hidden Life and Selling the Seabed, written by Helen Scales, published in Europe by Bloomsbury Publishing in March 2021 (hardback, 352 pages)

Sir David Attenborough has probably said it best: “No one will protect what they do not care about; and no one will care about what they have never experienced“. Both Scales and the publisher have taken that message to heart and the book is neatly designed. As with her previous book, illustrator Aaron John Gregory is involved again, this time providing two beautiful end plates and an eye-catching cover, while the colour plate section contains some outstanding photos. But at the heart of The Brilliant Abyss is Scales’s captivating writing.

First, consider the landscape. As she explains, the seabed, shaped by plate tectonics, is far from a featureless bathtub. Spreading centres create mid-ocean ridges, colossal mountain ranges that girdle the planet, while subduction zones where oceanic crust plunges back into the planet form deep-sea trenches of terrifying depths. The abyssal plain in between is studded with active or extinct underwater volcanoes that form seamounts of great import to marine life. Wherever magma approaches the surface, percolating seawater becomes superheated, rising back to the surface laden with dissolved minerals and metals. They form hydrothermal vents: towering structures that are home to unique fauna and are “the deep-sea equivalent of hot springs and geysers on land” (p. 97). Woven throughout is a history of scientific exploration, from the first oceanographic expeditions to today’s robotic submersibles, and from pioneering deep-sea explorers to today’s trench-diving billionaires.

Otherworldly as the landscape is, the real stars of this realm are its fauna. Scales’s knowledge and love of marine biology shine through here, as she populates the pages with a bewildering cast of creatures. Notable examples of bizarre deep-sea fishes are included, but she gives you so much more. Whale carcasses, so-called whale falls, become complete ecosystems, home to bone-eating Osedax worms with unusual sex lives. Large gelatinous members of the drifting plankton, such as colonial siphonophores and giant larvaceans, form previously underappreciated links in the food web. Hydrothermal vents are crowded with worms and furry Yeti crabs that domesticate symbiotic bacteria capable of chemosynthesis, the “dark alternative to photosynthesis” (p. 104). Meanwhile, one species of snail makes its shell out of iron! And then there are the corals. No, not the familiar tropical corals who “hog not only the sunlight but the limelight” (p. 129); the lesser-known cold-water corals that occur at great depths and grow even slower.

“[…] the real stars of this realm are its fauna […] whale falls become complete ecosystems, home to bone-eating Osedax worms with unusual sex lives. […] Meanwhile, one species of snail makes its shell out of iron!”

And if the intrinsic value of biodiversity does not sway you, Scales is no stranger to discussing the deep’s instrumental values. The capacity of seawater to absorb heat and carbon dioxide. The role of global oceanic currents in regulating our climate. Or the carbon pump provided by marine snow; the constant rain of dead plankton, fish poop, and other organic debris that descends into the depths. And what of the quest for new classes of biological compounds with antiviral, anti-bacterial, or anti-cancer properties that could form the pharmaceutical drugs and antibiotics of the future?

Two-thirds through the book Scales switches gears. Now that she has your attention, it is time to highlight the many dangers the deep faces. Deep-sea fishing targets long-lived, slow-growing species such as orange roughy. Vulnerable seamounts with millennia-old corals are destroyed by trawlers in a matter of hours. Meanwhile, the promise of food for everyone is not being met. Vast catch volumes are being turned into fish meal for aquaculture and pet food, or questionable nutraceuticals such as omega-3-oil supplements. And where Daniel Pauly already gave me reason to be suspicious of the Marine Stewardship Council, Scales lays bare their dubious raison d’être: funded by royalties from sales of their eco-labelled fish, there is an imperative to keep certifying fisheries. She calls their scandalous certification of the “recovering” orange roughy population a “case of a dead cat bouncing, with a green-washed eco-label tied to its collar” (p. 204).

Scales made me shudder with her stories of pollution, especially the persistent legacy of the large-scale dumping of chemical weapons. But the topic that concerns her most is the looming spectre of deep-sea mining. Though much is still on the drawing boards, mining licenses are being issued and exploratory missions are taking place. What for? The minerals and metals contained in seamounts, hydrothermal vents, and the polymetallic nodules littering the seabed, which take millions of years to form. As with fishing, “the slow pace of the deep is out of step with the timescale of impatient human demands” (p. 205). Here too, the position of the body that oversees protection of the seabed, the International Seabed Authority, is incredibly compromised. Next to issuing mining permits they unbelievably have already assigned areas to be exploited by their own mining company!

“To think that [deep-sea mining] will result in anything but the rapacious plundering of ecosystems we have seen on land seems highly unlikely in her eyes. Meanwhile, the mining PR-machine is already running at full tilt […]”

Scales’s focus on deep-sea mining is urgently needed. Scientists have been sounding alarm bells in the peer-reviewed literature regarding its impact, but this topic is still mostly hidden from the public at large. Her descriptions of the destructive practices and the size of the machines involved are chilling. To think that this will result in anything but the rapacious plundering of ecosystems we have seen on land seems highly unlikely in her eyes. Meanwhile, the mining PR-machine is already running at full tilt, and Scales deftly disarms their arguments as to why deep-sea mining is necessary. She agrees that the shift to renewable energy requires infrastructure that needs tremendous amounts of diverse metals. However, as a detour into the design of wind turbines shows, predicting which ones will be needed is difficult. And whether the seabed is the best place to get them is highly questionable.

Scales tackles many of the same topics that Alex Rogers covered in . Her tone is more strident but no less knowledgeable and, as opposed to The Deep, her book does include endnotes with references. I recommend them both highly. Meanwhile, her call “to declare the entire realm off limits [to] extraction of any kind” (p. 286) meshes seamlessly with Deborah Rowan Wright’s bold vision laid out in Future Sea.

Whether you enjoyed her previous books or are new to her brand of writing about marine biology, I urge you to read this book. Next to an unforgettable trip, she provides a rousing rallying cry for the preservation of the deep sea. The Brilliant Abyss is, true to its title, brilliant.

Disclosure: The publisher provided a review copy of this book. The opinion expressed here is my own, however.

The Brilliant Abyss

Other recommended books mentioned in this review:

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After I reviewed Joy McCann’s book Wild Sea I became fascinated with the three-dimensional nature of ocean currents. She captivated my imagination with her vivid description of the formation of bodies of heavy, cold water plunging into the abyss around Antarctica. So when Cambridge University Press announced this textbook it seemed like the perfect opportunity to dive deeper into this topic.

Ocean Circulation in Three Dimensions, written by Barry A. Klinger and Thomas W.N. Haine, published by Cambridge University Press in March 2019 (hardback, 470 pages)

Both authors are oceanographers that actively teach courses on ocean circulation, so the material and exercises presented here have been field-tested on undergraduate students. Their preface contains suggestions for teachers on how to build a two-semester course out of this book, while a useful table indicates which chapters to read before others. This thoughtful level of organisation characterises the book as a whole. The three dimensions of ocean circulation are also applied figuratively, with each chapter divided into three sections: observations of ocean movements, concepts to explain these observations, and theory to quantify and apply these concepts.

The first two chapters review the foundations of physical oceanography you need to be familiar with, of which three pillars stand out. First are the physical characteristics of the ocean, specifically the importance of temperature and salinity, but also the influence of Earth’s rotation, which affects ocean circulation through the Coriolis force. Second is how oceanographers gather their data: via submerged sensors attached to stationary or moving platforms, or via satellites. With so much of oceanography now done using computers and remotely collected data sets, it is easy to forget where your data come from. It is equally easy to forget their limitations, which feeds into the third foundational pillar: mathematical models.

The oceans are enormous and largely inaccessible, and datasets are often limited in either time or space. You can collect long time series in one location, or you can cover more ground but only collect snapshots. Satellites and remote sensing have advanced the field tremendously, but these time series are relatively recent, often have some limitation on spatial resolution or on how deep they can probe the ocean, and are of limited duration: satellites only last so long and new space missions require continued funding. As such, physical oceanography, and therefore this book, rely heavily on numerical models to fill in the gaps and make predictions.

“A useful table indicates which chapters to read before others. This thoughtful level of organisation characterises the book as a whole […] with each chapter divided into three sections”

Having explained these basics, Klinger & Haine first consider the upper ocean, then the deep ocean, and finally the unique circulation patterns at the planet’s poles. What these chapters reveal is the beautiful complexity and diversity of circulation mechanisms. I will attempt a brief summary – with advance apologies if I oversimplify or butcher concepts given my limited background knowledge.

So, at the surface, wind drives the formation of gyres (frequently mentioned in news reports on plastic pollution and oceanic garbage patches). But rather than centrally located whirlpools, the Earth’s rotation causes them to be offset to the west, leading to powerful western boundary currents hugging the coasts of various continents. The constant churning of wind and waves turns the top layer of the ocean into a mixed layer with a relatively uniform vertical profile of temperature, salinity, and density. Gyre circulation at depth differs from the surface. As you descend, pressure rises and circulation patterns slow down and weaken, building up vertical shear. At the equator, currents differ again, with converging and diverging surface flows dominating, leading to upwelling and downwelling through so-called Ekman suction and pumping, transporting water vertically. Here, the three-dimensional character of ocean circulation comes to the fore, with surface and subsurface waters flowing in different directions.

An interlude, chapter 7, talks about meanders, eddies, and small-scale mixing processes. The authors then complete the circulation picture by looking at polar overturning cells where water sinks into the abyss, moves at depth over long distances, and wells up again near the equator. This is where the topography of the ocean bottom comes into play, with sills and marginal seas having an influence. Because of the position of the continents, the world’s oceans have several north-south corridors such as the Atlantic, where the direction of flow is along lines of longitude or meridians, hence this is called meridional overturning.

“The oceans are enormous and largely inaccessible, and datasets are often limited in either time or space. […] As such, physical oceanography, and therefore this book, rely heavily on numerical models […]”

The planet’s poles deserve special attention. The main reason is that the South Pole with its raging Antarctic Circumpolar Current connects to and interacts with all of Earth’s major ocean basins. This involves all the processes discussed so far. Together with the difficulty of gathering data here, this is still aqua incognita, so to speak: many questions remain and many details are sketchy. The other reason why the poles deserve attention is that they are, well, polar opposites. While the South Pole is an isolated landmass surrounded by water, the North Pole is a land-locked ocean partially covered with sea ice. Narrow passages such as the Bering Strait and the Barents Sea Opening are the only connection to global ocean circulation.

I found the observation and concept sections of each chapter reasonably accessible, and some of the illustrations particularly helpful, though I would have liked a glossary. Klinger & Haine define important terms, but I had to go back repeatedly to look up basic concepts such as geostrophic flow that remained abstract to me. As far as the book’s level is concerned then, this is an advanced-level text – personally, I would have benefitted from first reading an introductory oceanography textbook. Students will want to tackle this book in a classroom setting, especially once it gets to the theoretical sections. I read through these only to discover mathematical operators that I didn’t even know existed. One of the endorsements printed on the book mentions the option of self-study, though my impression is that this is the preserve of advanced students and professional oceanographers who are both familiar and comfortable with the mathematics and modelling used here.

“The planet’s poles deserve special attention […] the Southern Pole with its raging Antarctic Circumpolar Current connects to and interacts with all of Earth’s major ocean basins.”

The above is, of course, not a criticism of the book, but is good to know going in. Minor suggestions for improvements would be aforementioned glossary. Similarly, an online module with animations to help visualise movements and dynamic processes (such as was included with the CUP textbook Structural Geology) would be nifty, though I recognize the time, skill, and effort involved in creating these. No, what I really felt was missing was a final integrative chapter bringing together all the concepts that have been treated separately up to that point. Clearly, different modes of circulation dominate in different parts of the oceans, and at different times, but none of them occurs in isolation. So, what, ultimately, does ocean circulation in three dimensions look like? A short ocean-by-ocean walkthrough would have been instructive. That said, I certainly would not suggest ditching the current last chapter. Here, Klinger & Haine briefly explore the link between ocean circulation and the global climate, palaeoclimatology, and the possibility of abrupt climate change.

Ocean Circulation in Three Dimensions is one of the first books I know of to tackle this topic head-on. The authors explore competing models and explanations and are mindful to highlight that this is forever work-in-progress. Nevertheless, as an overview of our current state of knowledge, this book will be a valuable reference work for professionals. Similarly, the book’s structure and plentiful exercises make it a useful textbook for students, though they will probably need a classroom or graduate course setting to get the most out of it.

Disclosure: The publisher provided a review copy of this book. The opinion expressed here is my own, however.

Ocean Circulation in Three Dimensions hardback or ebook

Other recommended books mentioned in this review:

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The Southern Ocean, that vast body of water that flows unhindered around Antarctica, has to be one of the most forbidding oceans on our planet. Its latitudes are referred to by increasingly unnerving names the gale-force winds that have terrorised mariners since they first set sail here – the roaring forties, the furious fifties, the screaming sixties. Its waters are so cold that they are actually below freezing in places, with only their salinity preventing them from freezing solid (fish here have evolved antifreeze proteins!) As a consequence of these extreme conditions, this region has long remained unexplored. But, as historian Joy McCann shows, explore it we did. Brace yourself for a gripping piece of environmental history, marked by heroism as much as hubris, and curiosity as much as cruelty.

Wild Sea: A History of the Southern Ocean, written by Joy McCann, published in Europe and the USA by the University of Chicago Press in May 2019 (hardback, 274 pages)

Our planet cares little for cartography. From its perspective, there has only ever been one ocean, one all-enveloping fluid lapping its shores. What we now recognize as the Southern Ocean took shape some 40 to 20 million years ago as the forces of plate tectonics ripped up Gondwanaland, pulling apart Australia and Antarctica. Its completion arrived when the Magellan land bridge between South America and Antarctica was breached, opening up the Drake Passage and allowing the ocean to flow unimpededly around Antarctica in a so-called circumpolar current. This, as McCann explains in her introduction, is the geographical setting of the Southern Ocean.

Humans, meanwhile, have long speculated about the existence of a Southern continent, going back as far as the second-century astronomist Ptolemy. Although rumoured sightings of Antarctica by European explorers go back at least as far as 1599, it was not until the mid-1700s that in particular England and France started despatching ships on missions that were equal parts conquest and discovery. These were the times of James Cook commanding HMS Endeavour, Resolution, and Adventure, and later James Clark Ross aboard HMS Erebus and Terror. Particularly influential, and featured here extensively by McCann, was HMS Challenger expedition, which has been hailed as birthing modern oceanography. It also saw merchant’s vessels take crazy risks to try and find shorter routes to India. McCann’s description of sailing boats venturing into the roaring forties and having to turn north at the right moment at a time when they could not even fix their longitude beggars belief.

“The Southern Ocean […] has to be one of the most forbidding oceans on our planet. Its latitudes referred to by increasingly unnerving names – the roaring forties, the furious fifties, the screaming sixties”

McCann has organised each of her chapters around a natural attribute of the Southern Ocean (ocean, wind, coast, ice, deep, current), rather than stick to a strict chronology. This means she sometimes retreads the same historical path but from a slightly different perspective. One such perspective that leaves a bloody trail through the book is that of brutal exploitation. The cold waters of the Southern Ocean feed a huge number of seals, penguins, whales, and fish – and humans have ruthlessly hunted these to near-extinction in roughly that order. Seals were hunted by the millions for fur starting in the 1800s. Penguins fell victim not long after. An estimated two million (!) whales were harpooned, sliced up, and rendered into oil – lubricating and lighting the Industrial Revolution back in Europe. The ecological consequences of this slaughter still reverberate through these ecosystems and fish and whales remain under threat.

McCann pays as much attention to the natural world in this environmental history. Though not intended as a primer on the biology of marine mammals and seabirds, the pages of Wild Sea are nevertheless littered with details on the lives of whales, seals, albatrosses, petrels, and fulmars, though she has left out some delightfully risqué details on penguins. I was very pleased, however, to see her go into the microscopic creatures underlying all this biological richness, such as the diatoms (single-celled algae) and zooplankton, notably the large Antarctic krill.

“An estimated two million (!) whales were harpooned, sliced up, and rendered into oil – lubricating and lighting the Industrial Revolution back in Europe”

The physical environment also features prominently. Much like generations of sailors before her, McCann marvels at ice – the bergs, the floes, the glaciers – and the sometimes otherworldly play of the light here. But I was fascinated by what lies beneath. There is the ocean’s bathymetry (the underwater topography) and the incredible story of the mapping of the ocean floor (see also the biography of Marie Tharp). These efforts revealed the existence of mid-ocean ridges that helped the theory of plate tectonics finally find wide acceptance.

But McCann really enraptured me with the currents. These slowly travelling bodies of water shape our climate on a planetary scale and understanding their three-dimensional nature is an ongoing mission. Invisible to us, this underwater realm features waves, eddies, gyres, and underwater storms of staggering proportions. McCann captures some of this mysterious grandeur in her descriptions: “In the Weddell and Ross seas, which lie on either side of West Antarctica, the water becomes heavy as salt leaches out of the ice shelves, forming waterfalls below the ocean surface that plunge up to 2 kilometres into the abyss.” (p. 144) Her helpful notes link to an amazing animation put together by the Research School of Earth Sciences at the Australian National University.

“Currents form an underwater realm of staggering proportions. McCann captures some of this mysterious grandeur in her descriptions”

Wild Sea is an incredibly diverse book and McCann’s writing is informative and absorbing. In just 200 pages she manages to touch on a plethora of topics including history, oceanography, climatology, ecology, and marine biology. There are other amazing stories in this book I have not mentioned, one inspiring example being footage of a traditional whale-calling ceremony culminating in a meeting of indigenous leaders from around the globe. As an introduction to the many entangled natural and human histories of the Southern Ocean, this one comes highly recommended.

Disclosure: The publisher provided a review copy of this book. The opinion expressed here is my own, however.

Wild Sea hardback or ebook

Other recommended books mentioned in this review:

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