Peter Benchley (1940–2006)

Jaws by Peter Benchley is not the creature feature I expected. In fact, the shark plays a surprisingly small role in the novel and could almost be replaced by any natural disaster, crisis, or threat facing the town. The real focus of the book is Martin Brody. Everything in the story, from the town politics to the relationships to the shark itself, is filtered through how it affects Brody and his life.

As a first novel, Jaws is an interesting read because you can almost watch Benchley grow as show more a writer over the course of the book. The writing becomes stronger as it goes along, and there is a noticeable difference between the early and later sections. Part One and Part Two often feel like entirely different novels. The first half is largely concerned with establishing the town, its social structure, and Brody's personal life, while the shark frequently fades into the background.

Readers should also remember that this novel was published in 1974. Many of the attitudes, expectations, and character dynamics reflect that era and may feel dated or unusual to a modern audience. Some character motivations, particularly regarding relationships and gender roles, felt more rooted in the early 1970s than timeless human behavior.

What ultimately kept this from being a higher-rated book for me was its structure. Benchley introduces a number of interesting ideas and plot threads, including town politics, economic pressures, corruption, marriage, class differences, and the shark itself, but many of them are left unresolved or only partially explored. By the end, I found myself asking "That's it?" rather than feeling that the story had reached a satisfying conclusion. The ending feels abrupt, and for a novel so focused on Brody's character, I was surprised by how little emotional or thematic resolution he receives.

There is certainly value here, particularly as a snapshot of a first-time novelist finding his voice and as a fascinating companion piece to the much more famous film adaptation. Just don't go into it expecting the novel version of the movie. This is far more of a character study and small-town drama than a traditional shark thriller.

**Rating: 3.5/5** show less

About a year ago, I watched the Steven Spielberg movie Jaws for the first time in over a decade. Expecting mostly a nostalgia rush or some cud to chew on, I found myself thinking, with some surprise, "this is actually a damn good movie". A rather obvious thing to think, you might say, but it's easy to take Jaws, and other childhood staples like it, for granted. Particularly as, in our contemporary CGI-superhero-reboot-dumb-it-down-and-sell-it-to-China era, structure and storytelling don't show more seem to be much of a priority among Hollywood filmmakers. I had a similar response to Peter Benchley's Jaws, the source novel for Spielberg's film (Benchley was also a co-writer for the script). I didn't expect much, but I wasn't that far into it before I found myself thinking, with some surprise, "this is actually a damn good story".

It is, I admit, deservedly overshadowed by its film adaptation, which is superior in just about every way. Even leaving aside those things Benchley cannot compete with (such as John Williams' iconic score), the film scores higher. Spielberg said he didn't like any of the book's characters – Brody, Hooper or Quint – and so fleshed them out for the film. He also kept the shark hidden from the audience, building suspense (famously, this was done out of necessity, because the mechanical shark prop kept breaking during filming). None of the film's iconic lines (such as the "bigger boat" one) come from Benchley's novel – though the equally iconic book cover/movie poster does.

The film also omits some of the novel's pointless subplots, such as the mayor's dealings with the mafia and Hooper's affair with Brody's wife. The latter is a particularly unwelcome presence in the novel, not only because Ellen Brody's long inner monologue keeps us from the shark action, but because Hooper's side-smirk cuckolding of Brody sours any later shark-hunting camaraderie they might have had. That camaraderie is particularly well done in the film, in no small part due to Spielberg's altering of the characters, but also because of incredible scenes like the Indianapolis monologue – a conspicuous absence here. In the novel, Brody, Hooper and Quint are too much at each other's throats.

Jaws the novel is by no means a masterpiece, but it is tight. The writing isn't literary, but it's clean and easy to read. The characters aren't astonishing, but they keep us engaged. The plot is direct and thrilling – and well-paced. The novel commits more to the effect the shark attacks have on the Amity townspeople, which is welcome from a literary perspective, and if the novel's cod-Moby Dick ending is inferior to the film version, it still comes across well in print. Benchley allows his talent to come through in bursts; the opening scene in particular is great writing. At no point was I wanting to read anything else, or even do anything else.

Jaws looks and sounds like a crummy potboiler, but – and you might laugh – this was one of the most intelligent novels I've read in a good while. It doesn't have any literary pretensions, and though it has literary potential, Benchley doesn't sound those depths. By intelligent, I mean: situation, character, pace and prose. The story follows three varied characters in a thrilling situation and tells it with good pace and a clean, easy writing style. That's intelligent, to me – particularly as most 'crowd-pleasers' and 'thrillers' tend to be obsessively curated and manipulated, choking out any originality. Jaws is different: Benchley didn't expect it to be much of a success, so he just wrote a good story and it was a hit – a natural hit. I've realised that Jaws would have been a great read, even memorable, had the film never existed – as hard as it is to imagine a world without the world's first summer blockbuster and enduring pop-culture phenomenon. It's just one of those stories that hits a sweet spot, and it's hard to imagine what dull, unpromising roads we would have taken had Benchley not written it. show less

This little treasure is part nature guide and part memoir. Peter Benchley talks about different kinds of sharks, what makes them special, and how they interact with their environments and ecosystems. He also talks about several different diving experiences in which he has encountered sharks. The educational bits about sharks are informative and even sad at times, but the writing is not dry (no pun intended). The memoir segments are everything from funny to scary, and I can see why Benchley show more is so loved as a writer; he certainly knows how to tell a story. That these stories are taken from his own life makes them that much more terrifying. I was deeply moved by one section in particular, when he was talking about a dive he’d made with this wife and son. When the sharks came, he and his wife tried to stay on either side of him, to put themselves between the child and the sharks. That was easily the scariest part of the whole book. Adventures aside, this book is a highly informative guide to sharks and their importance to our planet. If you think of sharks as monsters, then Benchley’s explanation of their necessity might cause you to reconsider. show less

I enjoyed this no end. Compared to the film, I liked the more explicit examination of the impact of tourism on the people of Amity, as well as the deeper focus on the characters and their motivations. I love the film, but the novel feels more of a human exploration of corruption, jealousy, insecurity, and the quiet tensions that exist within the goldfish bowl of small-town America.