Our relationship to the octopus dates back to prehistory, when the eight-armed animal was depicted on vases and found in stone carvings from ancient Greece. Now we appreciate them for their abilities as escape artists, with sophisticated camouflage systems and ink jets—as well as their roles in tasty dishes from many cuisines. Octopuses are also among the most intelligent invertebrates in the world, with mental capacity comparable to that of a dog. In this heavily illustrated book, Richard Schweid details this animal’s remarkable natural history and its multifaceted relationship with humans.
Schweid describes the octopus’s intelligence, defense mechanisms, and short lifespan. He shows how some people have considered octopuses as nothing more than a meal and examines their role in the modern global fish and seafood industry. Other cultures, he reveals, see them as erotic totems or symbols of the darkest evils, and he discusses the difficulties people face when trying to keep them as pets—they are able to use their problem-solving skills, mobility, and boneless body to escape seemingly secure tanks. A fascinating glimpse into the extraordinary world of these popular creatures, Octopus will immerse readers in its amazing undersea world.
I have a great love of cephalopods, and this book only further stoked that fire within me. Octopuses are a fascinating species, and one that is still not all that well understood in site of the millenia that we have spent alongside them. It's amazing to me that such an important species is so little understood, and further, that there is still such debate over what intelligence might lurk behind its eyes. So much has been proven over time, and still, so many people continue to doubt.
The Reaktion series of books seeks to bring a new approach to natural history. They seek to incorporate the evolution of the animal in question, the myths surrounding it, popular conception, as well as the latest in scientific research. Personal anecdotes litter these series. The result is that at the end of each book you feel you've a better understanding of the species in question. Books such as Hedgehog and Woodpecker offered an enormous amount of mythology and curiosities, whereas Vulture needled in on the cultural importance of the animal and how dire their situation remains. Octopus, I hoped, would be similar. Instead, a distressing amount was devoted to cooking the species and offering up several recipes.. even while acknowledging how overfished many are. That put me off a bit.
While acknowledging the cooking and consumption of octopuses is important, I felt odd about the relish with which that topic was approached while simultaneously acknowledging the level of intelligence inherent in the species and the need for better fishing practices. I would have preferred space given to the film Arrival in addition to the horror shows octopuses still star in, and more attention paid to various steps in the right direction we are taking to help the animal. Something a bit more positive than simply consuming it would have been welcome...
While "Soul of an Octopus" describes octopuses as almost spiritual beings, Schweid depicts them as fascinating, intelligent cephalopods who have made indelible marks on human culture. An accessible and interesting book.
A great book about my favorite cephalopod! I was surprised that the author included so much about catching and eating them, but I guess that's what we've been doing for centuries. Poor octopuses.
I have been hearing very good reviews about this Animal Series from Reaktion Books, but I must say that the first one I've read is a slight disappointment.
It has interesting bits (I loved everything about early scientists), but the whole thing is too anthropocentric for my liking.
First of all, the actual idea for the book: apart from the physiology bits, the rest of the chapters are about man's interactions with the animal. I didn't mind the chapter about fishing, as you learn how political it all is and how humans don't miss many chances to prove how ruthless and brainless then can be, but I could have done without the chapter on eating octopus. Not interested at all and, in the end, it's just the same thing over and over again.
Some of the biology is also too anthropocentric for me: even if we ignore the talks about 'intelligence' (I still can't understand why scientists are happy applying parameters for human intelligence to animals, instead of looking at it from the point of view of each species, but hey, I think that battle is lost); anyway, even if we ignore that, the fact that he repeatedly talks about how 'octopuses look back at you' really irritated me. He says that when you look at an octopus you can see that there is an intelligent being behind those eyes. Well, how can he not consider that perhaps he's thinking that because octopuses have exactly the same type of eyes as humans? It's obvious that we are always going to have some sort of connection with a being that shares some physiological trait with us, but that does not mean that reptiles, for example, who have a different type of eyes, are not intelligent!
It's not that I could have written a better book, but almost. Still, an interesting read, if only for the anecdotes. I wanted more literary and art references, though: more about the impact octopuses have on humans, more than the other way round.
I have long had a fascination with octopuses and this book was full of surprises. I knew about the intellect and problem-solving skills, but I loved reading about octopus personalities. Some of them are even "difficult" -- scientists affectionately named a particularly obnoxious specimen Lucretia McEvil. There was a photo in the book that blew my mind: an octopus holding a Rubik's cube. One thing I didn't realize was how short an octopus lifespan is. That's rather sad, considering how interesting and bright they are. The book covers the gamut from octopus physiology and psychology to mythology and art to even octopus as a food source.
I also now have a bit of disdain for Aristotle for referring to octopuses as stupid.