Blue Meridian

Matthiessen was among the entourage when Peter Gimbel set out in 1968 to track down and film the awesome great white shark - the biggest, heaviest, meanest (it will attack anything and down a man in one or two bites) shark around. That was its appeal for Gimbel, who had already hobnobbed almost to the point of boredom with lesser breeds. But the great white is also very rare. . . . For most of the book the crew sails back and forth in South African waters, lights, cameras and aluminum submersion cages at the ready, and Matthiessen glides after with loads of preparatory shark and nature lore; but the white hides out and the interim account is one of technical difficulties, inclement weather, spluttering tempers, deepening friendships. That isn't to say there aren't extraordinary diversions, such as an unprotected swim among blues and tigers and hand-feeding a monster barracuda, or that the narrative filler isn't worthwhile (for example, angry digressions on whale killing and apartheid). It's simply that such diffuse attractions tend to cancel the excitement of the Great Wait and vice versa; and though the encounter is still chilling when it comes, many months and a million dollars later off southern Australia, some of the impact has been lost. It ends as an agreeable miscellany, pitched vaguely in the direction of Moby Dick and due to land with the reflective bedside reader, though the film's release may greatly improve its prospects. (Kirkus Reviews)