Perfect rendition of a powerful novel

Short version: I really liked this book, it's both entertaining and has important questions to ask. And the audio version is an absolute joy.

But, hey, there's no review yet, so here's the long version:
Tom hears a voice that identifies itself as Malamock, the octopus god - a seemingly omniscient entity that promises protection and spiritual awakening, in return for unconditional dedication to a set of strict rules enforced by brutal punishment and humiliation. Diagnosed with schizophrenia, tightly locked in the benefits system, and on a prescription of last-resource pharmaceuticals that render what remains of his senses dulled and strained, Tom is fully aware of and ashamed by the fact that even on a good day, he cannot ride a bus without scaring the other passengers. He sees his sister Tess crumble under the weight of caring for him besides raising her children and work. The shred of dignity afforded by a trip to London "like normal people do" and the prospect of loosing even that, set up his first inevitable and heartbreaking descent into a psychotic episode. What follows is a stay at a psychiatric ward, staffed and funded to no higher purpose than to section its inhabitants from said normal people, the drug trial from the publisher's blurb, and the ensuing loss of the octopus voice and his bearings.

If this sounds bleak or dark, don't be alarmed: in spite of its serious topic, Jasper Gibson's second novel is full of heart-warming lightness and humour. The dialogues are snappy, from the siblings' banter to the absurd exchanges between Tom and the carers and doctors. Told exclusively from Tom's point of view in an affable tone, the novel abounds with unconventional wit, keen observations of human behaviour, and wacky situational comedy. Even in the narrative's darker moments, it is sprinkled with laugh-out-loud moments and small gems of on-the-point images. But when tragedy strikes, the punches land hard. The narrative is well-balanced, alternating between the events in Tom's 20th year after his schizophrenia diagnosis and flashbacks to his and his sister's messy childhood, their drug-bolstered youth, the events surrounding his diagnosis and his last (somewhat) happy relationship.

I am glad that the mythology of the octopus god is as generic as they come; with the octopus really being your go-to animal for alien intelligence, I was half expecting some post-new-age mess - but as it is, there's no spiritual discussion to be had (well there is one in the book, but I felt it served the purpose of closing this issue more than anything else). What takes centre-stage with the octopus instead, is a multi-layered exploration of inner voices, how they keep us from doing what we really want, how they warm us, comfort us, and how they put us down, how we wonder afterwards why we would ever have done something like this.
While relying a lot on inner and outer dialogue, there are elaborate descriptions of the surroundings. The profound love for the outdoors that shines through these passages forms one quiet centre of the novel's space: the relationship of people with nature or their estrangement, from wild animals, the elements, and their own physicality. Without this ever being explicitly commented on, Tom is the happiest and least troubled when he is in "his woods". Gibson's handling of the central questions of medical manipulation of mental states is pleasantly non-judgemental, giving his characters the space to find opposing views and needs, moral grounds, inner conflicts, and emotional hurdles and support. If I have to name a weakness, it's in those passages that verbalise (too) directly the issues otherwise artfully surfacing in Tom's interactions and observations.
The beauty of this novel lies in those scenes that tie the little things to the big questions - the (unlikely coincidental) reader's first encounter with the octopus god as Tom watches a news item on the very real and maddening situation where the drowning of desperate people has somehow become an acceptable standard in preserving a status quo; the impossibility of shopping for the ingredients for that fast, easy, and vegetarian pasta; the optimism that comes with waking with sexual desire; the offence given by "inviting an empty chair"; the indestructible humour with which Tess and Tom counter every difficult situation.

On the whole, this novel is a declaration of love for people on the edge, evoking the important question of the possibility of another world that does not fear and exclude deviations from normalcy, but shares burdens and embraces the creative human potential of the other.

Given Johnny Flynn's range and his ability to create instantaneously likeable characters displaying cocky mania, troubled menace, insecurity and vulnerability on screen, you'd expect him to deliver an apt portrayal of Tom. But this reading is so much more. He's jumped at the theatricality of the text, meticulously building a voice for all the characters and pushing the performance beyond your usual audio book's energy.

Every piece of direct speech is vivid, from the siblings' arguments, the nurses' cooing reassurances, the rude grandma's interjections to a passing father's reprimands of his kid messing about with a shopping trolley. The timing and dynamics of the dialogues are impeccable, and the comedic elements sparkle. In that first encounter with the octopus' voice, it gives hair-raising, otherworldly terror, which is later complemented with a soothing tone. In terms of pitch and timbre, all the voices are registered in an almost operatic way (in the best sense of that word), unveiling an additional structure, and this really makes the recurring motif of characters mockingly repeating other characters' phrases work. It also establishes the octopus' voice as an almost reassuring baseline, transforming his drug-induced absence into an actual musically missing element. There's a poetic tone for the lavish outdoors descriptions, excitement in the childhood memories, and a dreamy softness in the recollections of happier times. Flynn holds the tension and attention to detail, even when the author has trouble conveying the dullness of the psychiatric ward without dulling the text.

Notwithstanding his artistic skill, in the end it is the hauntingly candid performance of Tom's inner fights, his panic, desperation, anger, loneliness, and gut-wrenching mortification that gives this audio book its powerful impact.

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