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No matter how tumultuous a relationship you might have with your parents, never forget the valuable advice they may offer along the way.
That is one of the ultimate life-and-death lessons Jay Gardiner, the 17-year-old protagonist in Whalefall, discovers in the gripping novel by prolific author Daniel Kraus. Currently in development as a feature film by 20th Century Fox, the book served as the focal point when Kraus visited the University of Illinois Urbana-Champaign campus in November 2024. Kraus—who earned his master’s degree in library and information science from the university’s School of Information Sciences in 2005—joined moderator Ryan Ross, director of history and traditions programs at the UI Alumni Association and senior editor of Illinois Alumni magazine, for an intimate discussion about the story’s origins, mechanics, and emotional core.
In Whalefall, Jay dives into the Pacific Ocean attempting to locate the remains of his deceased father, Mitt, hoping the effort will ease the crushing guilt he feels over Mitt’s suicide. But the dive goes horribly awry. After getting entangled in the tentacles of a giant squid, Jay is caught in the crossfire when a predatory sperm whale swoops in for the kill. Sucked directly into the first of the whale’s four stomach chambers, Jay is left with roughly one hour to escape before his oxygen supply depletes. The high-octane survival narrative constantly intersects with Jay’s memories—flashbacks that conjure the clumsy but well-meaning advice of his father, ultimately providing the tools Jay needs to survive the belly of the beast.
“It’s what Daniel does with the idea, as well as his beautifully vivid descriptions of ocean life and his skill in milking suspense out of the situation, that make this a special book,” Ross told the audience.
The concept was inspired by a viral news story about an individual caught inside a whale’s mouth, though headlines sensationalized the event by claiming the person had been swallowed. Set against the backdrop of the pandemic, Whalefall explores themes of grief, trauma, and forgiveness. At its most raw, the novel confronts the painful realization of not having the parent—or child—one hoped for.
Mitt was an overbearing father, Kraus explained, but the ocean survival skills he imparted to Jay were ultimately his way of showing love.
“It was a flawed way, but it was how he was trying to do it—the best way he could at the time with his limited emotional vocabulary,” Kraus said.
To anchor the outrageous premise in believable science, Kraus spent three months consulting marine biologists, whale experts, and scuba divers. He even earned his own scuba certification to grasp the physical realities of the sport. His research required a process of “working backward” to figure out how the narrative puzzle pieces would fit together, necessitating a meticulous outline to account for every second Jay spends trapped inside the whale.
The scientists Kraus consulted were eager to help, largely because no one had ever asked them how a human might realistically engineer an escape from a sperm whale. Because no record of such an event exists, the experts offered their best educated guesses.
Ross, who read Whalefall three times prior to the event, praised how Jay operates as a “teenage MacGyver,” utilizing whatever debris he can find inside the stomach—such as the indigestible beak of the giant squid—to craft an escape route. Kraus noted that he wanted the story to be a relentless page-turner that forced readers into the exact physical state of the protagonist.
Much like Cast Away, the action relies on a lone protagonist in total isolation. And just as Tom Hanks’ character forms a deep emotional attachment to a volleyball, Jay becomes tethered to the squid’s beak.
Kraus also drew inspiration from Apollo 13, specifically the tense scene where NASA engineers must assemble a working carbon dioxide filter out of a random heap of cabin parts to save the crew. The pitch-black isolation of being trapped inside a marine giant, Kraus noted, mirrors the terrifying void of deep space.
The conversation turned deeply resonant when Kraus explained the title’s literal definition. A “whalefall” occurs when a whale dies and its massive carcass sinks to the ocean floor, creating a rich ecosystem that sustains sea life for decades, even centuries.
“It’s one of the greatest metaphors I’ve ever run across,” said Kraus, a former documentary filmmaker who admitted to getting goosebumps discussing the phenomenon. “How one entity’s death can impact generations. I thought that was just wonderful.”
The metaphor became painfully personal when Kraus shared that his sister, Jane, died suddenly during the week Whalefall was released in 2023. Her passing brought the weight of the term into stark focus.
“We’re all Jane’s whalefall,” Kraus recalled telling mourners at her funeral. “She just died, and we’re all here. We’ve all been affected by it. There’s something really kind of beautiful about that.”
An unapologetically multi-genre author, Kraus has written across nearly every category of fiction except Westerns—and even that is on the horizon for the Chicago-based writer. An self-described “omnivorous” reader and writer, he moves effortlessly between thrillers, horror, and romance, jokingly calling himself an “agent’s nightmare” because of his varied bibliography. His brand, he explained, is having no brand at all—a strategy that offers total creative freedom and steadily expands his readership.
Yet a thread of dark suspense runs through all his work, a byproduct of a childhood spent turning to the genre for comfort while being bullied in school.
“I turned to horror for, I think, armor to sort of make myself comfortable,” Kraus said. “Maybe the bullies in school were bigger, but they couldn’t watch what I watched.”
When an audience member asked how he cultivated a career as a full-time author and managed his creative process, Kraus was disarmingly candid.
“To some extent, I thought I could do this while I was in middle school,” he said.
The most vital habit he developed early on was writing purely for the joy of creation. In middle school, he would finish a story, feel satisfied with the work, and put it away in a drawer without showing anyone. That process ingrained a sense that writing was a private, joyful outlet. Even today, he maintains a strict boundary between the act of writing and the public reception of his published books, viewing promotional tours and reviews as the least interesting aspects of his career.
“I’m still just sort of living in this little happy castle where I’m just happy with all my stuff,” Kraus said. “I think that’s a really good way to work.”
Kraus treats writing like a standard 9-to-5 job, logging eight hours a day wherever he happens to be—at home, in airport terminals, or mid-flight. For years, he wrote seven days a week before finally convincing himself to take Sundays off. While he admitted he would write constantly if he could, he recognizes that his obsessive passion can come at a cost.
“I love writing so much that it has been to some deficit of other life,” he admitted. “I’ve lost time for people. I’ve got this sort of tunnel vision in a way that is really good if you want to write a lot of books, but I need other hobbies.”