#Fantasy Worth Reading: The Cat Who Would Be King #Bookreview

The Cat Who Would Be King by Bethany Hoeflich is a humorous novella about an alleycat's accidental rise to the top of society.

From the blurb:

The sky is blue.

Water is wet.

And cats most definitely do not talk.

Reporter Thomas Kane knows that boring articles don’t sell newspapers, and as the newest hire at the Daily Gazette, he’s always on the lookout for a tantalizing story to write. When he gets a tip about an interview with Bastien the First, the elusive and presumably dead king of Qar, Thomas assumes it’s a cruel prank by jealous coworkers determined to see him fail.

As a cat, life is far superior for Bastien than his two-legged counterparts. Bastien has settled nicely into retirement where he enjoys a quiet life as a pampered tavern cat while keeping his true identity a secret. Obscurity has its downsides, however, and it’s time for his extraordinary story to be told.

My thoughts:

Bastien the cat has decided it's time to tell his story. And what a story. It seems Bastien's life as a wharf-prowling feline is over when a wizard acquires him for experimentation. The wizard doesn't expect him to survive and tells him so, but Bastien not only survives the experiment, he gains the ability to talk in human speech.

At first the wizard is pleased. He believes he has the perfect spy to serve his mysterious plans. However, the wizard soon discovers that cats rarely do what others want them to do. As the wizard reveals the depths of his evilness, Bastien discovers that the kingdom is tottering on a knife edge. Bastien proves to be the right cat at the right time.

Hoeflich does a wonderful job portraying Bastien's perspective. The reader gets a very credible cat's-eye-view of the wharfs and the castle. The contrast between the characters of Bastien and the wizard is also well done. Bastien searches for kindness and a good meal while the wizard exhibits a maniacal obsession with political power. If you like cats and some humor with your fantasy, you'll enjoy The Cat Who Would Be King. 

Story links:

Goodreads  Amazon

A Review of Familiarity: A Winston and Ruby Collection by Kristine Kathryn Rusch #fantasy #cats #familiars

Winston: A kind and quiet wizard possessed of small magic.
Ruby: A familiar with a big mouth and even bigger heart.

My Review: Winston lives in a small town on the Oregon coast along Highway 101. He runs a small curiosity shop catering to the tourists. The locals know him as "that crazy guy with the cat." The locals do not visit his shop, which makes little money. His real line is a mail order business. He ships potions on a weekly basis all over the United States, Canada, and Europe. He's not rich but it is a living. He has a small magic. And the shop gives him somewhere to go every day, a reason to leave his cottage.

Winston's magic would be nothing without his familiar. He works best with cats and they choose him. (If you live with cats, this won't surprise you.) His familiars also have a lot of attitude and have no problem expressing their opinions and desires in perfect English.

Winston wants to live a quiet life somewhere below the radar and tinker with his potions in the workshop in the back of his store. He used to live in San Francisco but an unpleasant misunderstanding required him to leave quickly. He wants nothing more than to avoid trouble but trouble wanders into his shop on a regular basis.

Familiarity collects five Winston and Ruby stories. “Familiar Territory” tells the tale of how Ruby came to live with Winston and the death of Buster, Winston's former familiar. Buster leaves some odd instructions for his funeral and his spirit sails off in a blaze of glory, literally. In “Saving Face” Winston and Ruby work with a local detective to track down a killer when a woman who visits Winston's shop turns up dead. In “Searching for the Familiar” Winston hears rumors that familiars are going missing and when the rumors become a reality for Ruby, Winston is frantic to find her. “Disaster Relief” tells the story of Ruby's attempt at altruism. She convinces Winston to open their cottage to the magic users and familiars displaced by Hurricane Katrina. In “Un-Familiar” Ruby teams up with a toy poodle-Chihuahua mix. Ruby usually has nothing to do with dogs and she won't tell Winston what's up with the poodle-Chihuahua.

If you love fantasy and you love cats, Familiarity was written for you. The characters are truly charming. My only disappointment is that the collection comes to an end and as far as I know, there aren't any more Winston and Ruby stories.

Cats in Fantasy

Works of fantasy frequently feature amazing creatures. Dragons are a staple. Unicorns, ogres, and trolls are not strangers to fantasy readers either. But what about more mundane creatures, like cats. Yes, working on the Merliss stories has me a bit obsessed with cats, but felines play a leading role in many fantasy stories. Check out these examples.

A Night in the Lonesome October features Graymalk, the companion of Crazy Jill. The story concerns a group of occultists who have come together to open or oppose the opening of a door to the elder gods. The fabric of reality thins enough to allow the elder gods entrance every time a full moon rises on Halloween. Each occultist has an animal companion. The story is told by Snuff, a watch dog belonging to Jack, and centers on the interactions between the animal companions. Graymalk and Snuff become close friends as the story unfolds. Each saves the other's life at least once. Snuff rescues Graymalk from drowning in a well and Graymalk warns Jack when Snuff is turned over to a vivisectionist. If you're a fan of Gothic fiction and you like cats or dogs, you really need to read A Night in the Lonesome October.

Tamsin is a ghost story set in modern-day Dorset. Jennifer Gluckstein, an American teenager, moves to a 300-year-old farm when her mother remarries. The wreck of a farmhouse is barely habitable. Jennifer's step-father has been hired to revitalize the farm. Jennifer brings her cat with her. Mister Cat has one interest, finding a new girlfriend. In the upper story of the house, he finds one: the ghost of a white Persian who belonged to Tamsin, one of the original occupants of the farm. Following Mister Cat on one of his visits to his ghostly girl cat, Jennifer befriends the ghost of Tamsin. The story follows the slow revelation of what happened to Tamsin and why her life met with a tragic end. If you like cats and English history, grab a copy of Tamsin and dive in.

The Secret of Kells is an animated fantasy film based on legends regarding the creation of the Book of Kells. The protagonist is Brendan, an apprentice in the scriptorium at the Abbey of Kells. Brother Aidan, a master illuminator, comes to Kells after the Vikings attack his monastery at Iona. He brings with him an unfinished manuscript and his white cat, Pangur Bán. The cat befriends Brendan and aids him in finding gall nuts for ink and a magnifying crystal. Both are necessary for completion of the book. Pangur Bán also helps to rescue Brendan from a locked cell in the abbey tower. If you like cats and animation, you'll love The Secret of Kells.

Do you have any favorite fantasy stories featuring cats? I would love to hear about them.

Furry Muses

Some tackle us the moment we walk through the door from a long day at the working gig. Some provide a watchful eye on our writing productivity lazily swinging their tails to and fro while resting on top of the printer. Others insist on wording our sentences for us. Things like "shdoifhq9283yr8whetohfajsud" don't translate so well. But they are there for us. Loving on us in the middle of our doubts. Inspiring us with their antics. They are our Furry Muses.

* * * * *

Christine Rains

Thunder is the lord of his castle. Regal and handsome, he looks down upon us and sees all. He inspires my disinterested aristocrats, my scheming thieves, and my devious villains. Of course, Thunder is just over a year old, not much more than a kitten. He runs into things, swats at dust bunnies, and recently nearly broke a leg doing a daredevil tackle move on his cat tree. He is a young hero in the making. Not at all wise, but silly and charming. He might be able to pull off a graceful leap, but he's just as likely to tumble. He's smart enough to open cupboards and flush the toilet, but he'd be the one to try to make friends with the monster under the bed. And I think if anyone could, he'd be able to do it.

* * * * *

Angela Brown

Molly is my Tiny Terror. She's a Chihuahua mixed with a ball of energy, an attention-grabber, and will have her body close to yours...only after she's sniffed you, barked at your ankles, and let you know that this is her territory and me and Chipmunk are her humans to protect. Then she's putty in your hands.

It can be interesting getting the writing in, especially if I'm chilling in my bed. She wants to be right there in my lap. Which can be hard since that's where I need my laptop. But we tend to reach a compromise after a few hugs and she settles for being by my side. At two years old, fourteen in dog years, she keeps me on my toes about the angst of youth and the subtle ways in which we all yearn to be seen, heard, and loved.

* * * * *

River Fairchild

wiki image

My ideal imaginary cat would be fierce-looking, ready to attack anyone I didn't like with his ability to breathe dragon fire. He would be a lovable furball around me, though, curling up in my lap anytime I wanted attention. He wouldn't leave hair on my clothes or cough up hair balls. Alas, it's the other way around, but he would go on letting me believe in my delusion of the chain of command. 

* * * * *

M. Pax

Karenina (Nini, the seal point) and Makayla (Kayla B, the blue point) moved in with me when they were 7 weeks old in January 1997. We lost dear Nini this past July, but Makayla recently celebrated her 19th birthday. With catnip, of course.  Nini was always the happiest of kitties, bouncing into rooms with joy, loving to play and snuggle up until her final days. She was so full of life and often hung out on the corner of my desk. From her, I learned to read well for a crowd. If I wasn't animated enough, she 'd go to sleep. If I was animated, she'd listen intently. Kayla is starting to lose her sight, but she's happy enough. Somehow we find ways to spoil her worse by the day. She usually hangs out behind me (she is right now) on an ottoman. She used to toss puffy balls into the air and flip around to catch them. We all spent many hours together playing ribbon and blanket monster. Makayla especially loves to be flown around the house. The two of them made me laugh daily. There is much Kayla doesn't do anymore because of her age, but she still makes me smile every day. Thank you, Kayla. Thank you, Nini. We miss you, Nini. Every day.

* * * * *

Cherie Reich

Cinderella "Relli" (pictured left) appeared at our house when she was around four weeks old. Of her litter, she was the only one we kept. I couldn't birth a daughter more like me than Relli. We have our anxiety issues and weird behavior, but we're the sweetest things when we feel comfortable with someone. Relli teaches me it's okay if I don't have my characters figured out in the first draft. I'll get to know them more each time we meet. For a muse, she says I need to put the laptop away. It's blocking the best seat in the house.

We rescued Romeo (pictured right) when he was around three weeks old. His mother had either died or abandoned him, and his siblings died in a fire. The poor little kitten was singed and reeked of smoke and oil, but he promptly adopted me as his mommy. Romeo reminds me I should speak up more, even though I'm typically rather quite--until I become comfortable around you. He's my shadow chaser. We're an adorable awkward pair.

* * * * *

Catherine Stine

Bo, otherwise known as Heironymus Redneck Bosch is actually my older son's dog, but I "babysit" him a lot. He's half King Cavalier and half Cocker Spaniel. Here he is eyeing our pool game, and angling on how to get a play in. 

I can get writing done if I give him a nice pig ear or chew bone. Otherwise, he tries to distract me. But he is a great lapdog, so on cold winter nights he functions well as a heating pad while I watch TV.

* * * * *

Meradeth Houston

Hi! This is my first post as part of this awesome group, so it's even better to get to share a bit about my little Kate :) She's a rescue from California and is now learning how to love the snow in Montana with me. I think she's part rat terrier, with probably some chihuahua thrown in for good measure. 

She's quite the attention hog, to be honest, and gets mad when I start typing and not paying attention to her. But if I'm lucky, and can wear her own with a long walk and romp with her doggie friend around the corner, she curls up next to me and lets me tap away on my keyboard. She'd very sweet, super protective, and loves nothing more than to be on my lap getting a belly rub. I love this little pup!

* * * * *

Julie Flanders

Clancy (the dog) and Nate (the cat) are my furry babies. They are both 8 years old and were born about a month apart in the fall of 2007. I adopted Nate from an animal shelter in January, 2008 and brought Clancy home from a local dog rescue on Labor Day weekend of the same year. I couldn't have picked better companions! They were both featured in my first book Polar Night when I named a character Nate Clancy. I couldn't resist. :)

My favorite writing space is my couch and as you can see Clancy and Nate are also fans of this piece of furniture. I'm lucky they are willing to share it with me. I stretch out with my laptop on my legs and these two take their respective spots on the cushions. I've spent many happy writing days with these guys and I look forward to many more.

* * * * *

Gwen Gardner

This is Koko and Tuffy. They are pitt-mix and perhaps queensland heeler. They are very talented at laying around, as you can see. But they're very smart! Their vocabulary is extensive so we've taken to spelling things we don't want them to understand--they're beginning to learn to spell, so I don't know what we're gonna do.

Koko "Puff" and Tuffy are brother and sister (littermates) and turned ten years old last summer. Koko, on the left, rules the roost. Tuffy is the strong silent type and always defers to her, even though he's bigger and stronger than she is. He even attacked a chainsaw to save his daddy once when he was one year old (see that white spot above his lip?), but he would never face down the fearsome Koko. She's way tougher than some ol' chainsaw.

They're both known to lend a paw when I'm trying to work. One time, Koko wrote forty-three pages before I noticed.

* * * * *

Jeff Chapman

Smokey is a rescue cat. My family rescued her when she showed up in our driveway one September Saturday afternoon and tried to come in the breezeway. She was meowing, begging for some TLC, and so friendly. For a few weeks we had been seeing this small gray cat around the neighborhood, mostly at night or at a distance. Try to judge the details of a gray cat in the dark. Today she was in front of us. No doubt that this dirty, bag of bones was sick and starving. She ate some dry and canned cat food as if she hadn't eaten in months, which was probably close to the truth. After a trip to the emergency vet, we learned that she was dehydrated, had no microchip, no terminal illnesses, no front claws, two missing canines, millions of fleas, and two infections: upper respiratory and eye. For the next two months, Smokey lived in our breezeway while we nursed her back to health with antibiotics, regular meals, and a safe place to sleep. We also learned that Smokey is deaf, probably from a horrid case of ear mites.

When I needed a model for an ancient cat for a novel in progress, I looked no further than Smokey. This cat may have been around the block a few too many times, but she now has a home and a place in literature.

* * * * *

Ellie Garratt

This was my late father-in-law's dog, Sam. Whenever he went on holiday, Sam became my dog. He wasn't the brightest dog I've known. Jack Russells are stubborn and difficult to train, and he always lived up to that reputation. You couldn't play fetch or teach him tricks. However, he never left my side and was quick to move into guard mode whenever we were approached by a not-so-friendly dog. I loved taking him on long walks, and not just for the fresh air and exercise. It was because while walking, I could switch off from all concerns and think about whatever writing project I was working on. There were no distractions other than keeping an eye on Sam, which meant my creative side could take over. I had numerous story ideas and plot breakthroughs on those long walks.

I wish I could have my own Sam now. Unfortunately, working long hours prohibits it. For now, I'll dream of a day when I can have another Sam in my life. I hope I don't have to wait long.