The Anthropomorphizing of an Octopus

I just finished reading Shelby Van Pelt’s delightful novel, Remarkably Bright Creatures. Van Pelt tells the story of an octopus named Marsellus who lived in an aquarium and befriended the elderly nighttime cleaning lady. Several chapters are written from Marcellus’ point of view. It is an excellent example of anthropomorphizing, the attribution of human form, personality, or emotions to something nonhuman.

This book brought back a lot of memories. My degree is in physical anthropology. I’ve only met two other people who also hold this degree. True, it’s not easy to find a job in this field, but I loved the coursework. When people hear the word anthropology, they think of the study of the development of human societies, cultures, languages, and social organization. They think of Margaret Mead. That is cultural anthropology. Physical anthropology is the scientific study of human biology, evolution, genetics, and variation, both past and present. It was a perfect field for me because I love these scientific fields. I could read a biology text as if it were a compelling novel.

One of my college courses was primate behavior. I was assigned to work with a professor who was studying vervet monkeys to compare their behavior with that of humans. My lab work involved observing and documenting monkey behavior, and I was instructed not to anthropomorphize, just to record their activity. Each monkey was assigned a number. My documentation went like this:

• Number 1 ran up to number 6 and slapped it, then ran away. It was hard not to anthropomorphize and accuse number 6 of being a bully.
• Number 18 stole number 4’s banana. Number 4 bit number 18 on the ear. I couldn’t report that number 4 retaliated by biting number 18’s ear.
• Number 7 is sitting in the corner, nipping at any monkey who comes by. It was hard not to believe that number 7 was having a bad day or feeling sad for some reason.
• Numbers 14 and 10 were inseparable. I couldn’t report that 14 and 10 were friends.

Needless to say, the class was the highlight of my day. Years later, I taught life science to middle school students. Watching those active preteens, I was often reminded of the vervet monkey I studied. Their behavior was not that different. My teaching curriculum covered the classification and taxonomy of living things, as well as evolution, so my degree proved useful. One of my lessons focused on the octopus, the most intelligent invertebrate. Other members of the invertebrate group include insects, spiders, clams, oysters, corals, and earthworms. Intelligence is not typically associated with these animals. It involves learning, problem-solving, and a higher level of understanding—traits usually attributed to vertebrates, animals with backbones. However, many studies have shown that octopuses can solve problems, remember, and respond to different situations; in other words, they demonstrate a higher level of thinking. I believe the octopus is a bridge species, and if evolution continues, it might eventually develop a backbone and join the class shared by other backboned animals.

Marcellus, in Van Pelt’s book, figured out how to escape his tank, roam the aquarium at night, and dine on his fellow captives: sea cucumbers, mussels, clams, and more. He could open locked cages, read, and respond to people’s emotions.

How often do we anthropomorphize? For example, saying your dog’s feelings were hurt when you stopped throwing him the ball, or that your cat shredded your drapes because you bought her the wrong cat food. The humanizing of animals appears in many children’s books and adult novels. Think of all the cozy mystery series featuring animals as the protagonists: Spencer Quinn’s Chet (a dog) and Bernie (his human) make up the Little Detective Agency series, all of which I’ve read. The stories are told entirely from Chet’s point of view. There’s also The Cat Who series by Lillian Jackson Braun, Rita Mae Brown’s Mrs. Murphy series featuring a cat and a Corgi, and The No. 2 Feline Detective Agency by Mandy Morton. I remember a Martha Grimes mystery, The Grave Maurice, in which a horse’s point of view adds a touching depth to the story that a human character couldn’t convey.

What about writing a series with an octopus as the detective? I could call it the Tentacle Tales series. I’ll add it to my very long list of projects to write, but if you beat me to it, that’s okay. I know I’ll read it.

Do you ever anthropomorphize in your writing?

Check out my Sydney Lockhart mysteries and my Kate Caraway Animal-Rights mysteries: Kathleen Kaska’s Books