Whalefall

by Daniel Kraus

Have you noticed that there have been a weird number of instances where paddleboarders or kayakers have narrowly missed being swallowed by a whale? What would happen upon ingestion? Would death be imminent? Would you be crushed by jaws or suffocated in the confines of the esophagus or stomach? Well, Whalefall is a novel where our main character, Jay, finds himself within the confines of a whale’s digestive tract.
Jay Gardiner believes that the only way can can reconcile himself with the suicide of his abusive father is to go on a solo scuba dive in the area where his father drowned recover his bones. Shortly into his dive, Jay spies a giant squid and is enthralled with the creature to the point of distraction. A sperm whale suddenly appears and swallows the squid sucking Jay into its mouth in the process. Once inside the whale, Jay realizes that he only has one hour left of air in his tank and, therefore, has to figure out a way to save himself before it’s too late.
Alone in the dark confines of the whale’s belly (one of its bellies), Jay is forced to confront the hatred he feels towards his father, the love he wishes he had, and the guilt that consumes him.
I read this novel in one evening. Very short chapters, a fast-pace, a sympathetic main character and a tonne of facts about the ocean, biology and the anatomy of whales make this an amazingly engaging read. This book is perfect for reluctant readers and/or as a read-aloud for junior and senior high school students. There is one chapter in particular where Jay has an emotional inner dialogue with the whale (or his father) that I would have two students read it aloud to the rest of the students (it is a truly emotionally raw and beautiful dialogue). . Kraus’s writing is wonderfully vivid and can be VERY descriptive regarding the gooey, bloody squishiness of the internal goings-on of a living being. And then, at times, descriptions are incredibly and poetically beautiful. For example:
It is the moon, pale blue, mottled, massive, dream legend. Rising. A ship of gods from primordial tar, yard after yard of wrinkled black bulk, a farce of size displacing the entire ocean. There’s an Omega shape in phosphorescent white, and Jay’s stupor permits the dull understanding that this crescent is a mouth, twenty feet of closed mouth and this obsidian skyscraper is no surfacing Atlantic. No colliding planet. It is a living thing. (Kraus pg 80). How amazing is this!!!

There’s a Trigger warning for mental, verbal and physical abuse and suicide.