The sharks there are at the top of the food chain, some longer than twenty feet, and they congregate 27 miles off the coast of San Francisco.

After going through many restrictions and barriers, she manages to join a group of scientists studying predation patterns by great white sharks within the so-called Red Triangle.

[1] As the creative director of Outside magazine during its Jon Krakauer-Sebastian Junger heyday, Casey ([then] the development editor of Time Inc.) acquired a good ear for the false notes of ecotourism and a thorough understanding of the humbling swipe nature can take at cocky adventurers.

Because of that awareness, she often allows herself to come across as a blundering nautical novice, which is refreshing (and true), though somewhat alarming considering that her lack of competence puts the researchers themselves and the funding for their project in jeopardy.

In fact, though no one becomes shark bait, the story ends in misfortune for two of its cast, leaving one to wonder if the book itself is a bittersweet apologia to those who may have suffered because of Casey's admittedly single-minded obsession with the Farallon whites.