A review by orionmerlin
Remarkably Bright Creatures by Shelby Van Pelt

emotional hopeful reflective relaxing sad medium-paced
  • Plot- or character-driven? Character
  • Strong character development? Yes
  • Loveable characters? Yes
  • Diverse cast of characters? It's complicated
  • Flaws of characters a main focus? Yes

3.75

Characters: 8.5/10
Marcellus the octopus stole the show like he was auditioning for his own spin-off. He’s clever, curmudgeonly, and weirdly soulful—basically the grumpy grandpa of the aquarium, but with more suction cups. Tova is a masterclass in quiet grief: buttoned-up, meticulous, and deeply haunted, in a way that felt believable if occasionally a bit underplayed. Cameron, though… well, bless his emotionally stunted little heart. He does grow, and I didn’t hate him by the end, but getting there required more patience than I usually offer grown men who throw self-pity tantrums in hardware stores. Still, the cast overall is vibrant, quirky without tipping into caricature, and well-drawn enough that I could describe most of them without consulting notes or therapy. 
Atmosphere / Setting: 8.5/10
The sleepy coastal town vibes? Immaculate. I could practically hear the waves and smell the fishy tang of the aquarium, which, to be fair, sounds gross but read beautifully. The contrast between Tova’s orderly little house of grief and the organic chaos of the aquarium made for a satisfying emotional backdrop. Everything felt grounded in place, from the local gossip networks to the silent weight of memory clinging to everyday spaces. It’s not a showy setting, but it’s immersive in that quietly lived-in way. It’s the literary equivalent of a tide pool: subtle, self-contained, and full of strange little emotional creatures. 
Writing Style: 7.5/10
Marcellus’s chapters are where Van Pelt’s prose really comes alive—wry, insightful, and just the right level of smug. The rest of the writing? Solid, if not exactly dazzling. There were flashes of lyricism and wit, but sometimes the prose leaned generic, like it was trying very hard to be palatable to the widest possible audience. It suits the tone of the book, but I rarely stopped to admire a sentence. The balance between voices was decent, though Cameron’s chapters occasionally drifted into “trying to be relatable” territory and came off a little sitcom-y. It’s good writing—just not writing I’ll be quoting six months from now. 
Plot: 7/10
Was I captivated? Sort of. The pacing was steady and there was enough emotional momentum to keep things moving, but let’s be honest: I saw every major twist coming like it was wearing a sandwich board. The narrative hangs together fine, but it doesn’t take risks. The resolution is neat to the point of feeling engineered, and while I appreciate emotional closure, I prefer when it feels earned rather than handed out like party favors. I did care about the character arcs—but if you’re here for high-stakes plotting or gasp-worthy reveals, this book is more mild current than rip tide. 
Intrigue: 7.5/10
I wanted to know what would happen, mostly because I wanted to see how long Marcellus could keep manipulating the humans without opposable thumbs. The dual mysteries—what really happened to Tova’s son, and who the hell Cameron’s dad is—were moderately compelling, but not exactly suspenseful. I never felt like I had to keep reading, but I also never dreaded picking it up. I’d call it emotionally compelling in a “slow-simmer Sunday afternoon” kind of way, rather than edge-of-your-seat. There’s just enough curiosity baked into the characters to keep you engaged, even if you’re two chapters ahead of the plot. 
Logic / Relationships: 7.5/10
Marcellus having a photographic memory and lock-picking abilities stretched plausibility, but I decided early on to just roll with it. It’s magical realism lite, and if I can buy a matchmaking octopus, I can suspend disbelief about the rest. What bugged me more were the slightly too-tidy emotional resolutions. Cameron's journey from human garbage fire to semi-decent adult happened fast enough to raise eyebrows, and Tova’s ability to forgive and reconnect felt a little too clean for someone who has spent decades steeping in loss. The relationships worked, but they sometimes felt like they were shaped to fit the plot instead of the other way around. 
Enjoyment: 7.5/10
I liked this book. I really did. It made me chuckle, it made me care, and it made me wish more literary fiction had talking sea creatures. But I never felt gutted or lit up the way I do with my favorite character-driven stories. It’s a tender, quirky tale with a lot of heart—but it stays comfortably in the shallow end of emotional impact. I’m glad I read it, and I’d probably recommend it to friends who need a gentle, hopeful read. I just don’t think it’ll stick in my soul the way I hoped it would.  
Final Score: 7.5/10
It’s a good book—sweet, warm, and thoughtfully crafted—but not quite remarkable. The octopus is a delight, the emotional beats land softly, and the town feels real. But for all its charm, the story plays it safe, and the neatness of the resolution left me wanting a little more depth, a little more bite. Still, I’ll never look at an aquarium octopus the same way again.

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