Not that the story shies away from significant loss. No, each character is dealing with overwhelming sorrow and challenges. But as they come into contact with one another, they are changed. The initial narrator is an octopus named Marcellus, who is detailing the final days of his captivity in the Sowell Bay Aquarium. Tova Sullivan is the petite Scandinavian widow, in her 70s, who tidies the aquarium every night. She is not only grieving the loss of her husband to cancer but also the mysterious loss of her 18-year-old son Erik three decades ago. The interactions between Marcellus and Tova are magical. When Tova falls and injures her leg, the aquarium director hires Cameron to fill the position temporarily. Cameron is in Sowell Bay seeking information about the parents he never knew. His past abandonments have left him stuck.
Initially, I thought the title applied to the octopus. After all, they are incredibly intelligent. I had read of an escaping octopus in Sy Montgomery's The Soul of an Octopus (did Van Pelt read Montgomery's book?). Toward the end of this tale, Marcellus attributes this title to humans, and it feels quite apt. For all the bumbling and stumbling we do with one another, at times we can be "remarkably bright creatures."
What a delightful read! It well deserves its recognition as an instant New York Times bestseller! This is one I would happily return to in the future. If you don't believe you can get behind an animal narrator, please allow yourself the willful suspension of disbelief. You will not be sorry! The endorsements are long and varied, but these were three of my favorites that articulate far better than I can:
"Shelby Van Pelt has done the impossible. She's created a perfect story with imperfect characters, that is so heartwarming, so mysterious, and so completely absorbing, you won't be able to put it down because when you're not reading this book, you'll be hugging it." - Jamie Ford, author of Songs of Willow Frost and The Hotel on the Corner of Bitter and Sweet
"Remarkably Bright Creatures is a beautiful examination of how loneliness can be transformed, cracked open, with the slightest touch from another living thing. Shelby Van Pelt makes good on this wild conceit, somehow making me love a misanthropic octopus, but her writing is so finely tuned that it's a natural element of a larger story about family, about loss, and the electricity of something found." - Kevin Wilson, author of Nothing to See Here
"Infused with heartfelt humor, Van Pelt's elegant portrait of a widowed woman who finds understanding and connection with a clever octopus is refreshingly, if surprisingly, relatable. Despite the unorthodox relationship at its core, the debut novel offers a wholly original meditation on grief and the bonds that keep us afloat." - Elle
1 comment:
Sounds Wonderful! I immediately put my name on a Libby "hold" list. Can't wait to read it.
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