Shelby Van Pelt
Have you read this? I found it remarkably enjoyable…and the
cover instantly drew me in. It’s one of those easy, compulsively readable
page-turners you take to the beach or pick up between heavier reads.
If it’s not on your radar yet, the heart of the story lies
with Tova Sullivan, a widow bearing the quiet weight of long-held grief, and
Marcellus, a cantankerous yet wise Pacific octopus harboring his own secrets.
Yes, an octopus. I was absolutely charmed by Marcellus: his cleverness, his
perceptiveness, his unwavering curiosity. The bond he forms with Tova is
quietly powerful and unexpectedly moving. Their shared story truly stole the
show for me.
There’s another main character…a thirty-something wandering
soul in search of his biological father…but I didn’t connect with his side of
the narrative. His choices often felt more adolescent than adult, and his arc
lacked the emotional resonance I found in Tova and Marcellus.
At its core, this is a love story…though not in the
traditional sense. It’s a tale of lonely people who slowly build a small world
of connection and support around each other.
Tova and Marcellus’s relationship is the one I’ll remember.
They develop a sort of wordless understanding. Tova shares her past in
fragments, while Marcellus, perceptive as he is, notices the weight she carries…and,
in a quietly beautiful gesture, begins leaving her little gifts. That’s what
won me over.
It reminded me of my cat, Ozzy, who brings me “stuffies”
each night…sometimes even leaves them by the front door when I’m working late.
It’s the sweetest ritual. He must spend all night ferrying them from the lanai
to the foot of my bed. Each night, before I go to sleep, I gather them up and
return them to the basket, and he follows me, probably thinking, “Seriously?
All that effort?” But I cherish it. Every morning I tell him how much I love
it. We’re moving soon, and I worry this magical little habit might fade.
This story…with its oddball premise, unpredictable turns,
and tender charm…completely pulled me in. It left me smiling, reminded me that
love and family can be found in the most unconventional ways, and that healing
often comes not in sweeping gestures, but in small, quiet acts of kindness.
“As a general rule, I like holes. A hole at the top of my
tank gives me freedom. But I do not like the hole in her heart… Tova’s heart. I
will do everything I can to help her fill it.”
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