You probably remember the Netflix documentary. It was everywhere during the pandemic, this weirdly moving story about a burnt-out filmmaker and a common octopus in a South African kelp forest. It won the Oscar. People cried. But honestly, the film was just a snapshot. If you really want to understand the psychological shift that happened underwater, you have to look at the My Octopus Teacher book, officially titled Underwater Wild: My Octopus Teacher's Extraordinary World.
Craig Foster didn’t just wake up one day and decide to befriend a cephalopod. He was broken. He was a filmmaker who had lost his soul to the grind, suffering from a deep, adrenal fatigue that made his previous life feel like a hollow shell. The book digs into the grit of that. It’s less of a "nature guide" and more of a raw, sometimes uncomfortable memoir about a man trying to find a reason to keep going.
Most people think the story is about a pet. It's not.
Why the My Octopus Teacher book is different from the movie
The documentary is visual poetry, sure. But the book—co-authored by Ross Frylinck—is where the real science and the darker, more visceral details live. In the film, everything feels blue and ethereal. In the prose, you feel the bite of the 8°C (46°F) water against bare skin. Foster stopped using a wetsuit. Think about that for a second. Most of us wouldn’t jump into a pool if the heater was off, yet he spent years diving into the Atlantic with nothing but trunks and a mask.
He did this to strip away the "barrier" between himself and the environment.
The book explains that this wasn't just some hippie-dippie choice. It was a physiological necessity. The cold shock forced his brain to stay present. It's called the mammalian dive reflex, and when you're in water that cold, your body doesn't have time for your "career anxieties" or "existential dread." You just survive. The My Octopus Teacher book chronicles this transformation from a spectator to a participant in the ecosystem.
The science they left out of the film
The Common Octopus (Octopus vulgaris) is essentially a sentient liquid. While the movie shows the "bonding," the book dives into the predatory intelligence. Foster describes watching her hunt with a level of detail that’s almost terrifying. She doesn't just grab things; she strategizes. She remembers faces.
There's a specific section where Foster talks about the octopus's skin. It’s not just camouflage. It’s a complex communication system. They have these things called chromatophores—thousands of tiny pigment sacs. When she turned white, she was scared. When she turned dark and jagged, she was aggressive. By the time you finish the chapters on her anatomy, you realize we aren't looking at a "fish" (obviously, she's a mollusk), but a mind that evolved entirely separately from our own. It’s like meeting an alien on Earth.
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The controversy of non-interference
One thing that gets debated a lot in naturalist circles is whether Foster should have intervened. Remember the shark attack? The one where she loses an arm?
People got mad. They said, "How could he just watch?"
In the My Octopus Teacher book, Foster addresses this head-on. He talks about the "Master Tracker" philosophy he learned from the San people in the Kalahari. The rule is simple but brutal: you are a guest. If you interfere, you break the cycle. If he saves the octopus, the pyjama shark starves. If he feeds the octopus, she loses her edge.
It’s a hard pill to swallow.
We want a Disney ending where nobody gets hurt. But the kelp forest is a violent place. The book doesn't shy away from the smell of decay or the sight of a creature you love being eaten alive slowly. It’s about the "Great Mother," as Foster calls the ocean—a force that gives and takes without any regard for human sentimentality.
Ross Frylinck’s perspective
We can't ignore Ross. He’s the co-author and he brings a much-needed groundedness to the narrative. While Craig is off becoming one with the mollusks, Ross is dealing with his own stuff. He’s exploring his relationship with his father and his own fear of the deep.
The book is structured in a way that weaves these two men’s journeys together. It’s not a straight line. It’s messy. It jumps from biological observations to deeply personal reflections on masculinity and fatherhood. This is why it’s a "lifestyle" book as much as a "nature" book. It asks: how do we live in a world that feels increasingly disconnected from the physical earth?
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What the My Octopus Teacher book teaches about burnout
If you’re reading this because you’re tired—like, deep-in-your-bones tired—this book might hit home.
Foster’s "burnout" wasn't just needing a vacation. It was a total system failure. He couldn't pick up a camera. He couldn't connect with his son. The book details how the octopus essentially "taught" him how to be a father again. How? By showing him how to be curious.
- Observation over action: We spend our lives trying to control things. The octopus just observes and adapts.
- Vulnerability as a tactic: She survived by being soft in a world of hard teeth.
- The power of routine: Going to the same spot every single day for years. That’s where the magic happens.
It’s not about the "one-off" adventure. It’s about the boring, daily commitment to looking at the same patch of sand until you start to see the things nobody else sees.
Common misconceptions about the story
People love to anthropomorphize. They want to believe the octopus "loved" Craig.
Let's be real.
The My Octopus Teacher book is a bit more cynical—or maybe just more honest—about this. It acknowledges that while there was a "bond," it was a bond between two very different species. She likely viewed him as a non-threatening part of the environment, or perhaps a source of mild curiosity. She wasn't a dog. She didn't wag her tail.
The "love" was largely one-way, and Foster knows that. The lesson wasn't that the octopus loved him back; it was that he was capable of feeling that level of connection to something so foreign. That’s the real takeaway. It’s about our capacity to care for the "other."
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The Sea Change Project
If you want to go deeper, you should look into the Sea Change Project. This is the foundation Foster started. The book serves as a manifesto for this movement. They’re trying to get the Great African Seaforest recognized as a global icon, similar to the Amazon or the Great Barrier Reef.
It’s working.
Because of the My Octopus Teacher book and the film, there’s a massive uptick in interest in kelp forest conservation. These underwater jungles are some of the most productive ecosystems on the planet, sequestering huge amounts of carbon. But they’re fragile. Pollution and overfishing are constant threats.
Actionable steps for the inspired reader
So, you’ve read the story, or you’re planning to. What do you actually do with this information? You probably don't live next to a kelp forest in False Bay.
- Find your "Patch": Foster’s secret wasn’t the octopus; it was the "patch." Find a small piece of nature near you—a park, a creek, even a backyard tree. Go there every day. Sit for 10 minutes. Don’t look at your phone. Just watch how it changes over the seasons.
- Cold Exposure: You don't have to dive into the Atlantic. Try a 30-second cold shower. It sounds like a fad, but the book explains the neurological benefits of that "shock" to the system. It wakes up parts of your brain that are currently dormant.
- Practice "Tracking": Look for signs of life. Not just big animals, but tracks, broken leaves, or bird calls. It’s a form of active meditation that pulls you out of your own head and into the world.
- Read the Bibliography: The book references amazing naturalists. Look up the work of Charles Griffiths or the tracking techniques of the San people.
The My Octopus Teacher book is ultimately a call to arms. It’s a reminder that we are biological creatures living in a digital world. We are "underwater wild" at our core, even if we’ve forgotten how to swim.
If you're looking for a way to reconnect with your own sense of wonder, stop watching the screen and start reading the pages. Then, get outside. The "teacher" is already there, waiting for you to notice.
Next Steps for Deepening Your Connection:
- Visit the Sea Change Project website to see the real-time mapping of the Great African Seaforest.
- Start a "Nature Journal" specifically for one location near your home to track the micro-changes in your local environment.
- Research "Biophilia"—the innate human tendency to seek connections with nature—to understand the science behind why Craig Foster’s journey felt so resonant to millions of people.