An Octopus Stole My Heart (And I Hate That I'm Saying That)
Look, I'm going to be honest with you. When my mom recommended a book narrated by a giant Pacific octopus, I rolled my eyes so hard I think I pulled a muscle. I spend my days trying to convince seventeen-year-olds that The Sound and the Fury is actually readable (it is, don't argue with me), so the idea of a talking cephalopod solving a cold case sounded... well, gimmicky. Like something I'd confiscate from a student reading under their desk.
But it was 11:30 PM on a Tuesday, I was three glasses of wine deep into a stack of truly abysmal sophomore essays on The Great Gatsby, and I needed an escape. I hit play.
And I didn't stop listening until 4 AM.
(Don't tell Principal Martinez why I was late that Wednesday. Let him think it was traffic.)
The Octopus in the Room
Here's the thing about audiobooks: they live or die by the performance. You can have prose that rivals Hemingway, but if the narrator sounds like a GPS robot, it's over. This book? It has two narrators, and honestly, they deserve awards.
Let's talk about Michael Urie first. He voices Marcellus, the octopus. In a lesser actor's hands, this would've been a cartoon. A caricature. But Urie plays Marcellus with this incredible, weary arrogance. He sounds like a bored British aristocrat trapped in a tank, judging the humans for their poor fashion choices and lower intelligence.
It is performance art.
He captures the pauses—the silence between the thoughts—perfectly. (I tell my drama students all the time: "The power is in the pause!" They ignore me. Urie gets it.) When Marcellus describes the humans staring at him, you can hear the disdain dripping off every syllable. It's funny, sure. But it's also deeply sad. You feel the weight of his captivity without him ever having to scream about it.
Tova's Quiet Heartbreak
Then you have Marin Ireland voicing Tova, the night cleaner.
If you listen to audiobooks, you probably know Marin Ireland. She's like the Meryl Streep of the medium. She does the same kind of magic in Pineapple Street, where she juggles multiple perspectives without ever losing the thread. She doesn't just read; she inhabits. Tova is a character that could easily be boring—a stoic older woman who likes to clean. But Ireland gives her this textured, resilient voice that just breaks your heart.
She nails the "I'm fine, really" tone that so many older people use when they are definitely not fine.
Switching between Urie's theatrical, haughty octopus and Ireland's grounded, practical Tova creates this rhythm that kept me walking the lakefront way longer than I planned. My wife, Denise, actually asked if I was having an affair because I was spending so much time with my headphones.
"No," I told her. "I'm in love with an octopus."
She walked away. Fair reaction.
Why It Works (Despite My Skepticism)
Is the plot a little convenient? Maybe. If I were grading this as a creative writing assignment, I might circle a few coincidences with my red pen. But as a listening experience? It doesn't matter.
The chemistry between the voice performances smoothes over any plot holes. It reminds me of Fredrik Backman's A Man Called Ove—that same grumpy-but-lovable vibe, just with more tentacles. I gave A Man Called Ove five stars for exactly that reason—it nails the curmudgeon-with-a-heart thing without ever feeling manipulative.
It's a slow burn, though. If you're looking for a high-octane thriller where things explode every five minutes, go listen to Lee Child. (No shade, I listen to those too when grading requires zero brain power.) This is a book about loneliness. It's about grief. It's about how we trap ourselves in our own tanks.
(Okay, that was a little deep for a review, but the English teacher in me can't help it.)
The Verdict
This is why I listen to audiobooks. Reading the text physically, I might have skimmed the octopus parts. I might have found it too twee. But hearing Urie and Ireland bring these two broken souls together? It worked.
It's charming without being saccharine. It's funny without being slapstick. And yes, I cried while walking past the Navy Pier Ferris wheel. A tourist looked at me like I was insane.
Worth it.
Who should listen: Anyone who loved A Man Called Ove, readers who think they're too cynical for heartwarming fiction, and people who need a good cry disguised as a quirky premise. Skip it if: you need fast-paced action or can't suspend disbelief for an octopus narrator.
