Review of Marianne Apostolide\u27s Deep Salt Water

Gersie, Jenna

English

Wilfrid Laurier University

The GooseVolume 16 | No. 1 Article 98-3-2017Deep Salt Water by Marianne ApostolidesJenna GersiePart of the Critical and Cultural Studies Commons, Feminist, Gender, and Sexuality StudiesCommons, Literature in English, North America Commons, Nature and Society RelationsCommons, and the Place and Environment CommonsFollow this and additional works at / Suivez-nous ainsi que d’autres travaux et œuvres:https://scholars.wlu.ca/thegooseThis article is brought to you for free and open access by Scholars Commons @ Laurier. It has been accepted for inclusion in The Goose by anauthorized editor of Scholars Commons @ Laurier. For more information, please contact scholarscommons@wlu.ca.Cet article vous est accessible gratuitement et en libre accès grâce à Scholars Commons @ Laurier. Le texte a été approuvé pour faire partie intégrantede la revue The Goose par un rédacteur autorisé de Scholars Commons @ Laurier. Pour de plus amples informations, contactezscholarscommons@wlu.ca.Recommended Citation / Citation recommandéeGersie, Jenna. "Deep Salt Water by Marianne Apostolides." The Goose, vol. 16 , no. 1 , article 9, 2017,https://scholars.wlu.ca/thegoose/vol16/iss1/9.Sea Change Deep Salt Water by MARIANNE APOSTOLIDES BookThug, 2017 $20.00 Reviewed by JENNA GERSIE “I’ve never come to terms for this. Not yet. You’ll see” (20), writes Marianne Apostolides in her moving memoir, Deep Salt Water. The book is a reflection on an abortion the author had about twenty years prior to publication of the book and her reconnection with the man seventeen years after their unwanted pregnancy. As the title suggests, the memoir is not just about the author’s experience, but also includes well-researched yet poetic commentary on the loss of our global oceans as we have come to know and understand them. With poignant prose, the author connects these themes of loss.  The memoir is broken into three parts—one for each trimester of a full-term pregnancy—and thirty-seven sections—one for each week. Some sections are written lucidly, while most serve like prose poems that explore loss in sometimes tenebrous ways, allowing the reader to interpret the writing as her own intimate understanding of loss.  Paired with Apostolides’ writing are mixed-media collages by Catherine Mellinger, whose work is also seen on the front, back, and inside covers. Combining images of women’s bodies and the life found under the sea, Mellinger’s art perfectly complements the narrative. Women’s hair flows like that of mermaids, coral structures stretch to the surface like fingers reaching to grasp another’s hands, and seagrasses loop around bodies, making the viewer long to be caressed by the sea, or a lover.  In section one, Apostolides writes, “My water broke and the whole sea spilled. It came without warning: the gush of the ocean. A sac of grief floods cities and women” (11). Thus, from the very beginning, the author positions the reader to recognize that this work pairs an individual loss with global ecosystem and species loss, that though this work is a personal account of one woman’s story, women’s bodies are joined across experiences.  The personal is made accessible in brief snippets that serve to address commentary about women’s rights to their bodies and to “[reject] polarizing rhetoric” (back cover) about abortions, as in this passage:   What is the language to talk of  abortion? The language of ‘rights’ is  too limited: its logic and lawfulness  place it firmly within the mundane.  The mysterious crux of abortion,  therefore, is denied. But the  language of ‘ethics’ is slippery,  sliding—so easily—inside the throat  of religion. Unable to find the proper  words, my only recourse is this plea:  the prayer that someone will offer  forgiveness. (41)  In most cases, Apostolides avoids the usual language used to talk about abortion, so when she clearly writes, “My personal was political […] I wanted to tell her that I was grieving. That it was my right, and that part of that right was the right to grieve” (27), her statements stand out, filled with the power of a woman standing up for herself and her body.  Most of the language used in the memoir is less pointed and seems to be derived from the rhythm and lull of waves 1Gersie: Deep Salt Water by Marianne ApostolidesPublished by / Publié par Scholars Commons @ Laurier, 2017or the sounds of bubbles reaching the surface, corals popping, or the songs of whales. Apostolides’ lyrical sentences lull the reader, offering the comfort of placid seas to counteract the deep emotions derived from discussing difficult topics.     Apostolides writes the ocean like a womb: life-giving, yet also a place where death and dying are not unknown. In some passages, she describes birth:   I’ve never seen the mating of sea  turtles […] stingrays that fly with  graceful menace. A whale is birthing  underwater […] thousands of fish  swim like one sleek body. Jellies  diaphanous, tropical luminous,  corals that mesmer even the  mermaids. (89)  In others, she shares devastation, as in this passage describing viewing a glacier in Alaska—  I faced the frozen edifice. The crevasse was yawning down the sheer; the ice glared blue from dense compression. Watching, waiting, for pieces to fall (78)  —or this one, in which she imagines a stark, but realistic, future— We walk along the plastic beach. The sand is made from petroleum products: a speck of silver from bags of chips; the greenish zest from bottles of water. (137)   The author’s observations are grounded in science. At the end of the memoir, she includes fourteen pages of notes about the research she has done on our oceans and the threats to their survival, from the origins of life and the haunting acoustics of whale song to species extinction, plastic pollution, oil spills, ocean acidification, and anthropogenic climate change. An extensive bibliography provides further reading to continue learning about ocean ecosystems and the effects of climate change on our blue planet.  Faced with these threats, Apostolides allows us to grieve, as is our right. And she recognizes that sometimes, grieving cannot be controlled. She writes, “The orbital angle of the moon will alter the rise. It’s an ebb and a flow; it’s a rhythmic cycle. Tides are predictable. Grief is not” (96). Whether coming to terms with the abortion she had years ago or recognizing the loss we’ve already witnessed in our oceans and the loss that is still to come, Apostolides acknowledges that grief is an essential part of the human experience when what you have loved is gone. Yet the love that is contained within her words—of the seas, of her unborn child, of the man she connects with so many years later—is the kind of love that is oceans deep.  JENNA GERSIE received her master’s degree in environmental studies with a concentration in writing and communications from Green Mountain College. She is managing editor of The Hopper, copyeditor for The Goose, and an international educator and English teacher. 2The Goose, Vol. 16, No. 1 [2017], Art. 9https://scholars.wlu.ca/thegoose/vol16/iss1/9

Deep Salt Water by Marianne Apostolides

Scholars Commons

The Goose
Volume 16 | No. 1 Article 9
8-3-2017
Deep Salt Water by Marianne Apostolides
Jenna Gersie
Part of the Critical and Cultural Studies Commons, Feminist, Gender, and Sexuality Studies
Commons, Literature in English, North America Commons, Nature and Society Relations
Commons, and the Place and Environment Commons
Follow this and additional works at / Suivez-nous ainsi que d’autres travaux et œuvres:
https://scholars.wlu.ca/thegoose
This article is brought to you for free and open access by Scholars Commons @ Laurier. It has been accepted for inclusion in The Goose by an
authorized editor of Scholars Commons @ Laurier. For more information, please contact scholarscommons@wlu.ca.
Cet article vous est accessible gratuitement et en libre accès grâce à Scholars Commons @ Laurier. Le texte a été approuvé pour faire partie intégrante
de la revue The Goose par un rédacteur autorisé de Scholars Commons @ Laurier. Pour de plus amples informations, contactez
scholarscommons@wlu.ca.
Recommended Citation / Citation recommandée
Gersie, Jenna. "Deep Salt Water by Marianne Apostolides." The Goose, vol. 16 , no. 1 , article 9, 2017,
https://scholars.wlu.ca/thegoose/vol16/iss1/9.
Sea Change 
Deep Salt Water by MARIANNE 
APOSTOLIDES 
BookThug, 2017 $20.00 
Reviewed by JENNA GERSIE 
“I’ve never come to terms for this. Not yet. 
You’ll see” (20), writes Marianne 
Apostolides in her moving memoir, Deep 
Salt Water. The book is a reflection on an 
abortion the author had about twenty years 
prior to publication of the book and her 
reconnection with the man seventeen years 
after their unwanted pregnancy. As the title 
suggests, the memoir is not just about the 
author’s experience, but also includes well-
researched yet poetic commentary on the 
loss of our global oceans as we have come 
to know and understand them. With 
poignant prose, the author connects these 
themes of loss. 
 The memoir is broken into three 
parts—one for each trimester of a full-term 
pregnancy—and thirty-seven sections—one 
for each week. Some sections are written 
lucidly, while most serve like prose poems 
that explore loss in sometimes tenebrous 
ways, allowing the reader to interpret the 
writing as her own intimate understanding 
of loss. 
 Paired with Apostolides’ writing are 
mixed-media collages by Catherine 
Mellinger, whose work is also seen on the 
front, back, and inside covers. Combining 
images of women’s bodies and the life 
found under the sea, Mellinger’s art 
perfectly complements the narrative. 
Women’s hair flows like that of mermaids, 
coral structures stretch to the surface like 
fingers reaching to grasp another’s hands, 
and seagrasses loop around bodies, making 
the viewer long to be caressed by the sea, 
or a lover. 
 In section one, Apostolides writes, 
“My water broke and the whole sea spilled. 
It came without warning: the gush of the 
ocean. A sac of grief floods cities and 
women” (11). Thus, from the very 
beginning, the author positions the reader 
to recognize that this work pairs an 
individual loss with global ecosystem and 
species loss, that though this work is a 
personal account of one woman’s story, 
women’s bodies are joined across 
experiences. 
 The personal is made accessible in 
brief snippets that serve to address 
commentary about women’s rights to their 
bodies and to “[reject] polarizing rhetoric” 
(back cover) about abortions, as in this 
passage: 
 
 What is the language to talk of 
 abortion? The language of ‘rights’ is 
 too limited: its logic and lawfulness 
 place it firmly within the mundane. 
 The mysterious crux of abortion, 
 therefore, is denied. But the 
 language of ‘ethics’ is slippery, 
 sliding—so easily—inside the throat 
 of religion. Unable to find the proper 
 words, my only recourse is this plea: 
 the prayer that someone will offer 
 forgiveness. (41) 
 
In most cases, Apostolides avoids the usual 
language used to talk about abortion, so 
when she clearly writes, “My personal was 
political […] I wanted to tell her that I was 
grieving. That it was my right, and that part 
of that right was the right to grieve” (27), 
her statements stand out, filled with the 
power of a woman standing up for herself 
and her body. 
 Most of the language used in the 
memoir is less pointed and seems to be 
derived from the rhythm and lull of waves 
1
Gersie: Deep Salt Water by Marianne Apostolides
Published by / Publié par Scholars Commons @ Laurier, 2017
or the sounds of bubbles reaching the 
surface, corals popping, or the songs of 
whales. Apostolides’ lyrical sentences lull 
the reader, offering the comfort of placid 
seas to counteract the deep emotions 
derived from discussing difficult topics.    
 Apostolides writes the ocean like a 
womb: life-giving, yet also a place where 
death and dying are not unknown. In some 
passages, she describes birth: 
 
 I’ve never seen the mating of sea 
 turtles […] stingrays that fly with 
 graceful menace. A whale is birthing 
 underwater […] thousands of fish 
 swim like one sleek body. Jellies 
 diaphanous, tropical luminous, 
 corals that mesmer even the 
 mermaids. (89) 
 
In others, she shares devastation, as in this 
passage describing viewing a glacier in 
Alaska— 
 
I faced the frozen edifice. The 
crevasse was yawning down the 
sheer; the ice glared blue from 
dense compression. Watching, 
waiting, for pieces to fall (78) 
 
—or this one, in which she imagines a stark, 
but realistic, future— 
We walk along the plastic beach. 
The sand is made from petroleum 
products: a speck of silver from bags 
of chips; the greenish zest from 
bottles of water. (137) 
  
The author’s observations are 
grounded in science. At the end of the 
memoir, she includes fourteen pages of 
notes about the research she has done on 
our oceans and the threats to their survival, 
from the origins of life and the haunting 
acoustics of whale song to species 
extinction, plastic pollution, oil spills, ocean 
acidification, and anthropogenic climate 
change. An extensive bibliography provides 
further reading to continue learning about 
ocean ecosystems and the effects of climate 
change on our blue planet. 
 Faced with these threats, 
Apostolides allows us to grieve, as is our 
right. And she recognizes that sometimes, 
grieving cannot be controlled. She writes, 
“The orbital angle of the moon will alter the 
rise. It’s an ebb and a flow; it’s a rhythmic 
cycle. Tides are predictable. Grief is not” 
(96). Whether coming to terms with the 
abortion she had years ago or recognizing 
the loss we’ve already witnessed in our 
oceans and the loss that is still to come, 
Apostolides acknowledges that grief is an 
essential part of the human experience 
when what you have loved is gone. Yet the 
love that is contained within her words—of 
the seas, of her unborn child, of the man 
she connects with so many years later—is 
the kind of love that is oceans deep. 
 
JENNA GERSIE received her master’s degree 
in environmental studies with a 
concentration in writing and 
communications from Green Mountain 
College. She is managing editor of The 
Hopper, copyeditor for The Goose, and an 
international educator and English teacher. 
2
The Goose, Vol. 16, No. 1 [2017], Art. 9
https://scholars.wlu.ca/thegoose/vol16/iss1/9


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Deep Salt Water by Marianne Apostolides

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