One of these things is not like the other.
All of them fascinating and brilliant in their own way, one kept creeping back into my thoughts long after finishing, meaning it merited a review…
Is it weird when one of your new favorite characters is a giant Pacific octopus?
It is. He is. And here we are.
Remarkably Bright Creatures is billed as “a luminous debut novel about a widow’s unlikely friendship with a giant Pacific octopus reluctantly residing at the local aquarium—and the truths she finally uncovers about her son’s disappearance 30 years ago.”
Yes, yet that boxes up this book in too small a space. Remarkably Bright Creatures deals with being trapped, and yet brilliantly presents sprawling emotional landscapes.
As I’ve said before, I only write reviews for books that either come to me gratis or lodge themselves so firmly in my brain grooves that they become virtual tenants. This one has accrued a substantial mental rent, yet I couldn't be happier with its residency.
Some writers write for other writers, or for themselves…the literary equivalent of big puppy dog eyes. Others write to a reader they either underestimate or fear. Shelby Van Pelt writes for a reader she respects and adores. The result sticks to the ol’ ribs. Literarily.
The plot is straightforward, but the characters are so expertly drawn, their voices so authentic, that I found myself charmed. And I am not easily charmed. Ask my husband.
Ugh, who knows. Maybe it’s just the change of seasons or one of those weird “I’m HOW old?” interstitials in my life, or I have too much thinking time on my hands, but Van Pelt’s words of pathos and wit got me on all sorts of chutes and ladders. You know the kind. “When do we start living? When do we start dying? Does it matter? Do the people in our lives factor into that? Is love the starter pistol for living? What’s love got to do with it?”
(Clearly, I think these things in the car. While listening to music. Tina Turner. And my kids would like you to know how much they love it when I sing along.)
The book nudges us to think about walls and boundaries – be they physical or emotional, self-imposed or external, restricting or comforting. It explores loneliness, isolation, companionship, and the ever-evolving notion of community as we age.
I don’t think those are Tina Turner songs, but I haven’t listened to her entire catalog yet.
Have I mentioned it’s funny?
It’s funny because of these glorious characters, all of whom, in one form or another, we love and hate, embrace and avoid every day of our lives.
If I can fall in love with a ne’er do well 30-year-old lost soul, a 70-year-old fussy widow, a gruff but sweet Scottish grocer, and a haughty octopus, so may you. So may we all.
I give this one eight sucker-covered legs. Well done.
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this one (the one not like the others) was already on my list but you, crafty word-minx that you are, definitely just bumped it UP the list :)