Sabrina Imbler Reworks the Personal Essay for Scientific Study

For the generation who grew up with Ms. Frizzle and Bill Nye types, I’m delighted to announce that our rising class of science-for-the-people personalities now includes Sabrina Imbler, who arrived at a recent lunch in Brooklyn sporting a pair of sea slug-bedecked pants, a fairly fresh tattoo of the sandwich-loving tropical fish from Lilo & Stitch, and a wealth of stories about the time they cohabitated with six 30-gallon fish tanks. 

According to Imbler, that whole situation was the result of living in a lovingly crammed house in Flatbush a few years ago, back when they were testing aquariums on assignment for Wirecutter. One went in the living room, one went in the bedroom; another cornered the nightstand. “I was sleeping in a hallway, and I was like, that’s okay! I don’t need windows! I’ll just have this aquarium,” the 28-year-old journalist recalled. “It was excessive. At one point, I had three fish tanks and moved apartments, and I was like, this is the worst experience of my life.” 

These days, Imbler lives amongst two cats and five ember tetras—manageable, yet appropriate for a writer whose name is synonymous with online natives with a niche form of the “creatures beat,” wherein Imbler combines scientific investigation of life forms, particularly of the undersea variety, with both literary inflection and viral memes: If you happen to see a heart-wrenching essay about octopus motherhood or a punnily perfect headline about Moray eels bubbling up in your timeline, chances are high that it’s an Imbler joint (The editor of The Atlantic once tweeted that the latter was worthy of Pulitzer consideration). 

This month, Imbler’s new book of essays, How Far the Light Reaches: A Life in Ten Sea Creatures, ventures further into their trademark exploration of deep-sea life that’s both both scientific and figurative within the context of Imbler’s personal coming-of-age—turning a jaunt below the waves into a lyrical consideration of alternative models of survival. 

In conversation with Vanity Fair, Imbler discussed crab memes, anthropomorphism (and its limits), and the use of the personal essay as a form for bridging across species differences. This interview has been edited and condensed for clarity. 

Vanity Fair: As a Bay Area native, how early in your life did the aquatic world become an interest? 

Sabrina Imbler: Very early. My elementary school was really into field trips, and when we went to the tide pools in third grade, I think that was a spark moment where I didn’t realize how close I was to the ocean. You could just go and see these little pockets of anemones and crabs and things that I thought you would have to be inside the ocean to see. 

One thing I am suspicious of is that, when I was a baby, my parents decorated my nursery to be Little Mermaid–themed. There was fish wallpaper, my mom sewed fish pillows, I had a fish mobile, fish curtains. My first toy was Flounder. So I don’t know. I have this illusion of free will, but maybe I was indoctrinated. 

When I look at your writing from over the years at titles like Scientific American, Audubon, Wirecutter, Atlas Obscura, and Catapult, I can see so clearly how your “creatures” specialty has crystallized. But of course, some of the splashiest (sorry) work came out of your fellowship at The New York Times, where a few particularly delightful headlines went viral: