Remarkably Bright Creatures

I had to push through this one. It’s not a bad story, indeed, it’s won awards and has been on best-sellers lists, but I just don’t enjoy this kind of multi-generational, rom-com softball writing.

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The prose is simplistic, the plot was obvious from a mile away, and one of the main characters is very annoying.

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The only thing that gives this novel any kind of interest, the reason I picked it up, is the presence of an octopus. The very short bits of first-octopus perspective prose are what kept me from putting this book down. I wish there had been more facts, lore, and commentary from Marcellus, the Giant Pacific Octopus.

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Well, of course I am intelligent. All octopuses are. I remember each and every human face that pauses to gaze at my tank. Patterns come readily to me. I know how the sunrise will play on the upper wall at dawn, shifting each day as the season progresses.

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When I choose to hear, I hear everything. I can tell when the tide is turning to ebb, outside the prison walls, based on the tone of the water crashing against the rocks. When I choose to see, my vision is precise. I can tell which particular human has touched the glass of my tank by the fingerprints left behind. Learning to read their letters and words was easy. I can use tools. I can solve puzzles. None of the other prisoners have such skills.        

The main themes of this, beyond inter-species, multi-generational love connections are how we take care of each other when we get old, the power of community, how different people deal with loss and grief, and the rejuvenating power of change.

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This novel  is not for people who like to be challenged by what they read, but would be good for a long flight or week on the beach.

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