Book Review: The Soul of an Octopus (2016), Sy Montgomery
Though ten years published at this point, this book is new-to-me. It was recommended either by Adam Savage or Wil Wheaton, I honestly can’t remember which (it might have been both, as both have a keen interest in octopuses). At any rate, I picked it up from Amazon, and it has been on my shelf for a while. A few weeks ago, I had opportunity to pick it up and read it.
I had a morning where I was going to be waiting for my Rav4 to get new brakes, and I decided to eschew my iPhone in favor of a book. Enter: The Soul of an Octopus. I have been fascinated by the octopus for a while, having known somewhat about them: their camouflaging ability, their eight limbs, their extraordinary intelligence, and so on. I wondered if they could be a species of stranded extraterrestrials caught in Earth’s oceans long ago, unable to leave again, instead of an evolved animal from home. I was excited to read Sy Montgomery’s book, which promises to look beyond the freakish exterior into the octopus’s inner being.
I was disappointed, not just in the florid prose, but in the subject matter. Maybe the gentle octopus is something more than they seem to be, but Montgomery’s characterization of them showed them to be little more than a great ape, or usually perceptive dog, or perhaps a corvid. Intelligent? no doubt. Strange? undoubtedly. Unique? certainly. Soul-having? I don’t know. Mostly the book, rather than a philosophical tome or deep exploration of psyche and psychology, was little more than Montgomery’s own narrative of visits to four particular octopuses at Boston’s New England Aquarium, as well as a recounting of her journey to become scuba certified in order to visit octopuses in their natural oceanic environment.
The story Sy Montgomery told was interesting enough to hold my attention, someone what more loosely than an octopus will hold hands with anyone brave enough to reach into their tank at the aquarium (apparently), but she failed to really delve into what it means to have a soul, or some affect more than the physical. She barely started to solve the puzzle of whether an octopus is en-souled or any more than just being a bizarre creature. At most she asked “is anyone in there?” while gazing into an octopus’s eyes, but beyond that surface she did not really delve.
I am impressed by an octopus’s ability to solve puzzles (but so can ravens), or to display (seeming) emotions (but so can dogs), or to use tools (but so can some apes), yet there was nothing more ethereal about them than that, at least from Montgomery’s descriptions. She certainly rhapsodized long on the individual octopuses she met, and gushed about them in a somewhat over-the-top lovingly way, but I couldn’t help but feel she was failing to communicate to me, her most recent reader, that there was anything more, well, special about an octopus than an admittedly extraordinary animal. I actually lost some wonder about the cephalopods, and no longer think of them as all that alien.
I really wanted to be dragged into the depths of intellectual debate with this book, but it didn’t happen. I was left bobbing on the surface of emotionality and meager description, rather than submerged into salient soul-pondering. The bonds we as humans form with fellow animals is appreciable, and I have no doubt that Montgomery formed bonds with the octopuses she visited. But did she have a soul connection with any of them? I remain skeptical. And that saddens me.
Does an octopus have a soul? I don’t know that I have a soul, really, though there seems to be something more than just physicality about me, but from this memoir, I am even more doubtful that an octopus has any more of a soul than does any creature. I wanted to believe, but her book didn’t create an environment to foster such belief. An octopus is a wondrous animal, but to really journey into who one is will take more than what Sy Montgomery’s Soul of an Octopus can provide me.
a simple man 