The Octopus is one of those novels that I have to say felt elusive as I was reading. I’m grateful to the publishers and NetGalley for letting me read it before publication, but having just finished it my thoughts are muddled to say the least.
My overwhelming thoughts after finishing this focus on the character of Richard. This is the character who is found dead the morning after his fiftieth birthday, seemingly of a drug overdose, where only eight people were in attendance. One of them must have been responsible, but who? As we learn more about Richard and his character, I think I can safely say every single one of them had reason to want the guy dead. He was a bully, lauded by Hollywood but vile to everyone around him unless they danced to his tune. Parallels with some real-life characters are clear, and while we are told his childhood was not particularly happy it doesn’t garner enough sympathy to excuse his general unpleasantness.
The construction of this book kept us somewhat in the dark regarding the true nature of the character of Richard. We begin with the party and the slow introduction to the people invited. We see things primarily through the eyes of Elspeth, Richard’s ex-wife, but it isn’t long before we start to realise that she has her own complicated story – and this is certainly intriguing, but we’re made to wait for it.
The party scene is elaborate, allowing us the chance to see how Richard interacts with each of the characters. Also introduced at the party is the character of Persephone, Richard’s pet octopus, who seems to represent his desire for control over others. The way he admires her and flaunts her to others exemplifies his attitude to those in his life. At one point Elspeth considers the octopus could have been the killer – what happens to this creature later in the novel certainly made me consider the cost to all involved of their relationships with this odious man.
This is a crime that does get solved, but in the process we uncover other more unsettling crimes that have been overlooked, ignored and even enabled by the reluctance of others to voice their concerns.
The Octopus is a book that did not leave me with many positive feelings at the end. I found it absorbing, but it was certainly not one I could say I enjoyed as it made me so angry at times.