I had such high hopes. Maybe if I was thirty or forty years younger I would’ve loved it, but as a way-over-thirty adult I found it insipid, principally because there was no life. No connection between the characters, no chemistry other than what was deemed necessary for the narrative. (Edit: okay, one, the friendship between Elizabeth and loser-boy felt real. But that was a minor part). All throughout the book, characters meet and develop bonds for no discernible reason whatsoever. Real people just don’t behave like that; it just made me think the author must be terribly young.

Marcellus the octopus was the most interesting character, of course. But... wtf was his angle? He was depicted as a storyteller, with himself as narrator, conversational in tone, but who is his audience? The author seemed to be trying to crack the fourth wall, but I didn’t find it effective. The frequent “but what about this, you ask?” interjections didn’t help; I also felt disappointed that there were fewer and fewer Marcellus chapters as the book went on.

Lots of promise unfulfilled. There could’ve been a really great relationship between Tova and Marcellus, but it was totally flat. There could’ve been interesting dynamics between the humans, but nope, just people being shoehorned into liking or disliking each other. So sad. Feel free to skip this one.