Other Minds: The Octopus, the Sea, and the Deep Origins of Consciousness

Wow. Peter Godfrey-Smith has achieved something truly rare here, blending deep philosophical inquiry with the wonder of marine biology. This book provides a profound shift in perspective regarding how we define intelligence, forcing us to reckon with a creature whose mind is distributed across its eight arms. The descriptions of 'Octopolis' in Australia are absolutely riveting, painting a picture of a secret society beneath the waves that defies our usual expectations of solitary cephalopods. I was particularly struck by the notion that evolution built complex minds twice over, once for us and once for them. It is perhaps the closest we will ever come to encountering an alien intelligence while staying on our own planet. While some might find the sections on neurons a bit dense, the writing is so conversational and curious that I couldn't put it down. The photos in the middle are a wonderful bonus that help bring the author's underwater encounters to life.

Ever wonder what it actually feels like to have a decentralized nervous system where your limbs can essentially think for themselves? This book dives headfirst into that question, offering a brilliant look at the alien minds living in our oceans. Godfrey-Smith manages to bridge the gap between hard science and philosophical wonder, making complex topics like neural connections and subjective experience feel urgent and exciting. The stories of octopuses in laboratories are legendary, but seeing them through the lens of a philosopher adds a layer of depth that a standard biology book might miss. I particularly loved the section on the 'secret octopus garden' and the social interactions observed at Octopolis. The realization that we share a common ancestor with these creatures that was basically a flatworm is staggering. It makes their intelligence feel like a beautiful fluke of nature. This is easily one of the most unique books I've read in years, and I’ll never look at a calamari menu the same way again.

This book is a masterclass in science communication, taking a subject as complex as the evolution of neurons and making it feel like a thrilling detective story. I was absolutely mesmerized by the descriptions of the Giant Australian Cuttlefish and their ability to change color and texture in a heartbeat. Godfrey-Smith asks the big questions: what is it like to be an octopus? How does a mind work when it's spread throughout eight arms? While he admits we may never truly know the answers, the journey of trying to understand is beautiful. The book is well-written, awe-inspiring, and contains some truly striking photos that help visualize the alien beauty of these animals. It’s a humbling reminder that we aren't the only intelligent life on this planet, even if our minds evolved on completely different paths. If you have any interest in nature or the mysteries of the brain, you need to read this.

As someone who spends more time watching nature documentaries than reading academic texts, I was pleasantly surprised by the accessibility of this book. The author’s personal anecdotes about diving with giant cuttlefish and octopuses are the clear highlights, especially when he describes how they seem to recognize individual humans. It’s mind-blowing to think that an animal so biologically similar to a slug can exhibit such playful and sometimes petty behaviors, like squirting water at specific lab workers they dislike. The book does lean heavily into the philosophy of consciousness, which might not be everyone’s cup of tea, but I found it grounded enough in scientific data to remain engaging. I do wish there was more exploration into why such intelligent creatures live only a couple of years, as that feels like a cruel evolutionary joke. Overall, it's a thought-provoking read that will make you look at the 'floppy spiders of the sea' with entirely new eyes.

Finally got around to reading this, and it’s essentially like meeting an extraterrestrial in our own backyard. The central conceit—that the octopus is an independent experiment in the evolution of high-level intelligence—is handled with both grace and scientific curiosity. I was captivated by the description of the cuttlefish's skin, which functions almost like a high-definition computer monitor despite the animal potentially being colorblind. It’s a fascinating paradox. Godfrey-Smith writes with a genuine enthusiasm for his subjects, and his underwater observations bring a level of intimacy to the text that you don't often find in science books. To be fair, some of the philosophical musings on the 'self' feel a bit speculative, but they are necessary for the questions he’s trying to answer. It’s a short, punchy book that manages to be both educational and deeply moving, especially during the final chapter regarding our impact on the oceans.

The chapter on the evolutionary tree really set the stage for how divergent we are from these cephalopods, and that was the hook for me. I’ve always been fascinated by how octopuses can squeeze through tiny holes, but learning about their three hearts and copper-based blue blood was a cool bonus. Godfrey-Smith does a solid job explaining how intelligence can emerge in different ways, though he does get a bit bogged down in the 'problem of consciousness' toward the middle. In my experience, these types of books can either be too dry or too 'woo-woo,' but this one hits a nice middle ground. The author's descriptions of his dives in Australia are vivid, and you can tell he has a real bond with the creatures he studies. It’s a bit of a shorter read than I anticipated, but it packs a lot of big ideas into its pages. Definitely recommended for fans of science and philosophy alike.

After hearing about 'Octopolis' on a podcast, I knew I had to dive into this one, and I wasn't disappointed. The writing is conversational but still smart, making you feel like you're on a dive with the author himself. There's something so charming about the stories of octopuses being mischievous, like recognizing individual researchers and holding grudges against them. It really highlights the 'otherness' of their minds while showing flashes of personality we can actually relate to. My only real gripe is that the book feels a bit repetitive in its structure, with every chapter following the same 'story then theory' formula. Still, the insights into how their skin works as a sensory organ are worth the price of admission alone. It’s a solid 4-star read that will definitely spark some interesting dinner conversations about what it means to be a sentient being.

Not what I expected after seeing so many people rave about the octopus facts on social media. While the information about cephalopod nervous systems is genuinely interesting, the author spends a lot of time on the history of single-celled organisms and early worm-like ancestors. I understand the need for context, but I felt like I was reading a biology textbook for the first third of the book. Look, the anecdotes about octopuses opening jars and escaping tanks are great, but they are spaced out between long discussions on the philosophy of mind that occasionally grow tiresome. I also struggled with the author's writing style, which involves a lot of 'as I will show in chapter four' and 'now that we have established X.' It feels a bit like an unedited academic paper in places. It is an okay read if you are deeply interested in the origins of life, but it might be too theoretical for casual readers.

Look, the science here is fascinating, but the author’s tendency to ask endless questions without providing concrete answers got old quickly for me. I get that the nature of consciousness is a mystery, but after the fifth time being told that something is 'unanswerable' or 'speculative,' I started to lose interest. The book is at its best when it focuses on the actual behavior of the animals, like the way they use camouflage or how they interact with divers. The parts about the Ediacaran 'bathmats' were a fun visual, though I'm still not entirely sure how much they added to the discussion of octopus minds. Personally, I would have preferred more about the studies at Octopolis and less about the philosophy of perception. It’s a decent book for a plane ride, but it didn't quite live up to the hype of being a definitive work on animal intelligence for me.

Frankly, I found the balance between biology and philosophy incredibly frustrating, and the book often feels like it's suffering from an identity crisis. Godfrey-Smith is a philosopher by trade, not a marine biologist, and his lack of scientific rigor shows in some of his stranger assertions about evolution being 'unfinished.' The beginning chapters are a slog through the fossil record and the Ediacaran period, which felt like filler if you already have a basic grasp of the evolutionary tree. I picked this up hoping for more stories about octopus mischief and their amazing camouflage, but those moments are overshadowed by dry academic self-referencing and endless questions about the nature of pain. Truth be told, watching a quick nature documentary would probably give you the same facts without the tedious tangents on aphasia or the internal dialogue of snails. It’s not that the subject isn't fascinating, but the delivery here is just too disjointed for my taste.