Remarkably Bright Creatures Review – A Whale of a Tale

Quick Verdict

Remarkably Bright Creatures is one of those rare novels that earns every emotional beat it lands. The Remarkably Bright Creatures book alternates between Tova's quiet grief and an octopus named Marcellus who is far sharper than he has any right to be. Is it perfect? No — but it's close enough that I read the last fifty pages twice because I didn't want them to end. I'd give it a 4.7 out of 5 for readers who appreciate character-driven fiction with a twist of wonder.

What Is the Remarkably Bright Creatures Novel?

I picked up Remarkably Bright Creatures on a recommendation from a friend who described it as "a book about an octopus solving a mystery" — which, honestly, undersells it. The novel, written by debut author Shelby Van Pelt and published by Ecco in 2022, centers on Tova Sullivan, a 70-year-old widow who has worked the night shift at the Sowell Bay Aquarium in Seattle for nearly two decades. Tova is guarded, private, and still wearing the weight of her son's disappearance thirty years earlier.

Into this quiet routine comes Marcellus, a giant Pacific octopus who has spent four years in the aquarium's tank. Marcellus is old by octopus standards, and he has grown observant — watching the humans who pass through, cataloguing their habits, and developing a particular interest in Tova. The novel unfolds through both their perspectives, and it's this structural choice that makes everything else work.

Key Features

• Dual first-person narration: an elderly human and an invertebrate
• Alternating chapters of roughly equal length for balanced pacing
• Mystery element involving a decades-old disappearance
• Themes of grief, isolation, memory, and unexpected connection
• Accessible literary prose — not dense, not simplistic
• Standalone novel — no cliffhangers, complete arc
• Approximately 360 pages; brisk chapter lengths

Hands-On Review

Let me be honest — I was skeptical about the octopus narrator. It felt like a gimmick waiting to fail. But by the end of Marcellus's first chapter, I was hooked. Van Pelt gives him a voice that is curious, vain in an endearing way, and surprisingly philosophical without tipping into pretension. He knows he's dying (octopuses live fast and short), and that awareness colors everything. "I have seen things no aquarium should hold," he thinks, and you believe him.

The human half of the story is Tova, and here is where the novel earns its emotional keep. She lost her son, Erik, under circumstances the novel reveals slowly. She works nights because sleep doesn't come easy anymore. She polishes the glass cases and counts the visitors who trickle in during the day — a small ritual that says more about her loneliness than any exposition could. What surprised me was how much I cared about Tova's small victories: a conversation with a new acquaintance, a letter she almost sends, the way she learns to look at her own history differently.

The pacing does dip in the middle section, roughly between pages 150 and 220. The mystery mechanics — a private investigator, some old photographs, a confrontation that needs to happen — feel slightly mechanical compared to the organic character work. But Van Pelt pivots well. The final act brings both storylines together in a way that is less about dramatic revelation and more about quiet recognition. I closed the book and sat still for a moment, which is about the highest compliment I can give any novel.

Who Should Buy It?

Pick up Remarkably Bright Creatures if you enjoyed Eleanor Oliphant Is Completely Fine or A Man Called Ove — stories about prickly, isolated people who slowly let the world back in. It's also a strong fit for readers who like their literary fiction with a speculative edge.

Skip this one if you need a plot-driven thriller. The mystery is real, but it's a delivery mechanism for character study, not the main event. And if you read primarily for action and pacing, the slower middle section may test your patience.

Book clubs will find plenty to discuss — the ending especially tends to spark debate about what Van Pelt is saying (or not saying) about consciousness, sacrifice, and what we owe each other.

It's also worth considering if you listen to audiobooks. The dual narration translates well to audio, with distinct voices for Tova and Marcellus adding to the characterization.

Alternatives Worth Considering

If Remarkably Bright Creatures resonated with you, here are three books that hit similar notes:

• The House in the Cerulean Sea by TJ Klune — another story that blends heartfelt character work with a quietly fantastical premise. Less mystery, more warmth.
• Eleanor Oliphant Is Completely Fine by Gail Honeyman — for readers who connected with Tova's loneliness and gradual healing arc. Shares the same literary fiction DNA.
• The Midnight Library by Matt Haig — if you appreciated the contemplative, "what does a life mean" energy of the novel's final chapters. Different premise, similar emotional territory.

FAQ

Final Verdict

Remarkably Bright Creatures is a novel about two lonely beings who are paying attention — to each other, to the world around them, and eventually to themselves. Van Pelt's debut is not without flaws: the middle sags, some secondary characters feel sketched rather than drawn, and the humor in Marcellus's sections occasionally overreaches. But the core relationship between Tova and the octopus is so well-sensing that it carries the book through its weaker moments. This is a story about what it means to be alive, aware, and approaching an end — and it handles that material with grace. If you've been on the fence, the hardcover or Remarkably Bright Creatures on Amazon is a purchase I won't hesitate to recommend.