Category: Reviews

We’ll Prescribe You a Cat by Syou Ishida – #ReadingtheMeow2025

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Translated by E. Madison Shimoda

Until now I seem to have avoided the current trend for Japanese novels with cute cat pictures on the cover. It wasn’t a deliberate decision to avoid them – that sort of book just doesn’t usually appeal to me. When I was looking for ideas for cat-related books to read for this year’s Reading the Meow, though, I thought this one sounded intriguing.

We’ll Prescribe You a Cat begins with Shuta Kagawa visiting the Nakagyō Kokoro Clinic for the Soul in Kyoto. Shuta’s unhappiness at work is causing him to suffer from stress and insomnia and he has decided to consult a psychiatrist. However, he quickly discovers that this is no ordinary clinic – first, it proves extremely difficult to find, hidden away down a narrow alleyway; then, instead of prescribing medication, Dr Nikké says something completely unexpected: “We’ll prescribe you a cat”. And with that, Shuta becomes the temporary owner of Bee, an eight-year-old female mixed breed – but will he manage to complete the course of ‘medication’ without any side effects and what will happen when it’s time to give the cat back?

Shuta’s story is the first of five that make up this novel, each one following a similar format with a character entering the Kokoro Clinic and, regardless of their symptoms, being prescribed a cat. The cat is a different one each time, each with his or her own personality and characteristics. Sometimes the cat is compatible with the client; sometimes it seems to cause more trouble and disruption, but in each case, when the prescription comes to an end, the person finds that their life will never be the same again.

Animal-assisted therapy is a legitimate form of therapy used by charities and mental health groups to treat a range of issues, allowing people to spend time with animals in a controlled environment. That’s what I had assumed this book would be about, so I was surprised to see Dr Nikké and his nurse, Chitose, simply handing the clients a cat in a carrier with some food and written instructions – no checks done to make sure the person had a suitable home for the cat, no questions asked about allergies or the needs of other family members. Then, at the end of the week or two week period, the cat is going to be handed back to the clinic and passed on to the next person. It seemed cruel and irresponsible. However, I quickly discovered that the book has a fantasy element – which grows stronger and more bizarre as it progresses – and I was probably taking things too seriously!

You may be wondering what the fantasy element is. Well, to begin with, the clinic itself is very unusual – sometimes it can be found and sometimes it can’t, depending on the person looking for it and how desperately they need to find it. There’s also something strange about Dr Nikké and Chitose, but I’m not going to say any more about that except that each of the five stories adds a little bit to our understanding of what is going on. Still, when I finished the book I felt that a lot of things were left unexplained or only partly answered. There’s a sequel, We’ll Prescribe You Another Cat, which will be available in English in September, but I’m not sure whether it will provide any more clarity or if it’s just another collection of similar stories. I don’t think I liked this one enough to want to read the sequel, but I did find it interesting and I enjoyed taking part in this year’s Reading the Meow with this book and Paul Gallico’s Jennie!

The Surgeon’s House by Jody Cooksley

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I haven’t read any of Jody Cooksley’s previous novels, but loved the sound of her new one, The Surgeon’s House, described as a ‘thrilling Gothic historical mystery’. It’s a sequel to The Small Museum, which I wasn’t aware of until after I started reading, but I hoped that wouldn’t be a problem.

The book is set in 1883 and begins with the murder of Rose Parmiter, the cook at Evergreen House, a refuge for women and children run by Rebecca Harris and her husband, George. At first, Rebecca can’t understand why anyone would kill Rose – it seems completely senseless and inexplicable – but when more mysterious incidents follow, she begins to wonder whether the legacy of Evergreen’s former residents, the evil Dr Everley and his sister Grace, is casting a shadow over the house. But Everley is dead and Grace confined to an asylum, so how could they possibly have anything to do with the events of the present day?

Meanwhile, Rebecca is trying to concentrate on providing a safe and happy home for ‘fallen women’ and their illegitimate children, but she faces opposition from Mr Lavell of the Charity Board who insists she is being too lenient. He believes the children belong in an orphanage and the mothers should be made to study the Bible and take in laundry to pay for their bed and board. Rebecca is determined to prove that her method is better, but when more people are found dead at Evergreen House she begins to fear that this will give Mr Lavell an excuse to take control of the refuge for himself.

I found a lot of things to like about The Surgeon’s House, but it took me a long time to get into it because such a large portion of the first half of the book was devoted to filling the reader in on the plot of The Small Museum. It seemed to me that the author was more interested in explaining what happened in the previous novel, what the characters had been doing in the intervening years and how they had coped with their traumatic experiences than she was in moving forward with the plot of this novel. It made me think I should have just read The Small Museum instead. Things did eventually start to move on, though, and by the middle of the book it had become much more compelling.

The setting was interesting as it reminded me a lot of Urania Cottage, the women’s shelter founded by Charles Dickens and Angela Burdett-Coutts which Stacey Halls wrote about in her recent novel, The Household – and I think if you liked that book, there’s a good chance you’ll like this one as well. Rebecca’s conflict with Mr Lavell forms a big part of the story, as she tries to keep her vision for Evergreen House alive despite his insistence that it should be run on the same model as the notorious Magdalene Laundries (which again reminded me of another book I’ve read, Small Things Like These by Claire Keegan).

The mystery element of the book, as I’ve said, was slow to develop at first but became stronger later on. There are some chapters written from the perspective of Grace in her asylum and we also meet Dr Threlfall, a psychiatrist who has a ‘clinic’ in the basement of Evergreen House where he is carrying out research and experiments. It’s an interesting novel, then, with lots of different threads to it, but I felt that these threads didn’t all come together as well as they could have done. It’s possible that I would have enjoyed this book more if I’d already read the first one, so it hasn’t necessarily put me off reading more of Jody Cooksley’s work.

Thanks to Allison & Busby for providing a copy of this book for review via NetGalley.

Jennie by Paul Gallico – #ReadingtheMeow2025

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This week Mallika of Literary Potpourri is hosting her third annual Reading the Meow event – a celebration of cats in literature. Last year I read and loved Paul Gallico’s Thomasina, so reading one of his other cat books seemed like a good plan for this year’s event. Jennie was originally published in 1950 (and also appeared under the title of The Abandoned in the US) and like Thomasina, it’s a book aimed at children that can also be enjoyed by readers of all ages.

Peter Smith is a lonely eight-year-old boy whose father, an Army officer, is often away from home and whose mother is too busy going out with her friends to have any time for her son. Peter has always wanted a cat of his own to provide the companionship he longs for but isn’t allowed one as his nanny is afraid of them. Everything changes for Peter when he is knocked down and injured running across the road after a striped kitten. When he awakens, he finds that he has been transformed into a white cat – and is immediately thrown out of the house by Nanny.

Alone on the streets of London with the body of a cat and the mind of a boy, he encounters an aggressive yellow tomcat, Dempsey, who decides to defend his territory and leaves Peter unconscious. He is rescued by Jennie, a small kind-hearted tabby who believes Peter’s story and offers to teach him how to behave like a real cat. And so Peter finds himself having lessons on washing, lapping milk, catching mice and the important of pausing in doorways to survey his surroundings! Meanwhile, Jennie tells him her own story of how she was left behind when her owners moved away and began to live the life of a stray. She convinces him to travel to Glasgow with her – because she was born there – and this is the start of many adventures the two have together.

I’m so disappointed that I didn’t read this book as a child as I’m sure I would have loved it. I did still enjoy it as an adult but I don’t think it had the same emotional impact on me that it would have had if I’d been in the target age group. It’s a lovely story and Peter and Jennie are both very likeable, but I felt that this book didn’t have the depth and layers that Thomasina had. Having said that, there were still some moments where I felt a tear in my eye, particularly towards the end!

I loved the relationship between Peter and Jennie and the way they help each other to learn and grow. Peter is completely unprepared for life as a cat and relies on Jennie to teach him even the most basic things, but at the same time, his knowledge of how people behave and think and his ability to read and understand human speech proves very useful to Jennie. Like all good friends, Jennie and Peter have their disagreements – such as whether to accept a kind old man’s offer of a home – and on another occasion, Peter has his head turned by a pretty Siamese called Lulu, but I was sure their friendship would be strong enough to survive! The book was a little bit predictable and I guessed what would happen at the end, but maybe a younger reader wouldn’t.

This was a good choice for Reading the Meow – and also my first book for this year’s 20 Books of Summer! I’m now reading another cat-themed book which I hope to have time to review before the end of the week.

Book 1/20 for 20 Books of Summer 2025.

The Cardinal by Alison Weir

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In a market crowded with Tudor fiction, it’s difficult to find something new and different. This novel about Cardinal Wolsey – although maybe not the only one to be written about him – at least gives us the perspective of a prominent Tudor figure other than Henry VIII and his six wives. As with Hilary Mantel’s Thomas Cromwell novels, the focus is on politics, the forging and breaking of alliances with foreign powers, rivalries within the King’s inner circle and, above all, the rise and fall of a clever, ambitious man. We are also given some insight into Wolsey’s personal life as he is forced to choose between his career and the woman he loves.

The Cardinal covers Thomas Wolsey’s entire life, beginning with his childhood in Suffolk. Thomas – or Tom as he is known throughout the book – is the son of a yeoman farmer who also owns an inn and a butcher’s shop. However, Tom proves to be academically gifted from an early age, so instead of going into one of the family businesses he is sent to study at Oxford. At only eleven years old, he is much younger than the other students and is expected to have a bright future. Nobody could have predicted just how bright, as after making the decision to enter the church, Tom catches the eye of several influential patrons and rapidly gains wealth and power, becoming a trusted friend and adviser of first Henry VII, then Henry VIII.

Wolsey’s positions include Lord Chancellor, Bishop of York, cardinal and papal legate, and he begins to construct for himself a magnificent palace, Hampton Court. Needless to say, he quickly incurs the jealousy and resentment of other courtiers and Weir shows us how he systematically goes about bringing down his enemies and ensuring that he remains closer to the King than anyone else. Eventually he meets his match in Anne Boleyn, who has reasons of her own to dislike him. Anne is very much the villain in this book, which seems to be the case in most of Weir’s Tudor novels, probably due to the perspectives from which they’re written. Anne Boleyn, a King’s Obsession gives a more nuanced portrayal.

I loved the first half of the book, dealing with Wolsey’s early life and career, as there was a lot of material here that I had never read about in much detail before. I was also interested in the character of Joan Larke, the woman with whom Tom falls in love just as he’s beginning his rise to power. His position in the church makes it impossible for them to live together openly and he is forced to watch as she marries another man, unable to acknowledge the children he has had with her. I couldn’t feel too sorry for him, though, because he could have given up his career for her and chose not to. My sympathies were more with Joan (who would probably make a good subject for a novel in her own right, even if a lot would have to be invented as factual information on her seems quite limited).

The second half of the book is mainly devoted to Henry VIII’s Great Matter – his attempts to divorce Katherine of Aragon so that he can marry Anne Boleyn. Having already read about this several times in Weir’s other novels, from the perspectives of Katherine, Anne, Henry and Mary I, I didn’t really feel the need to read about it again so this part of the book dragged a little bit for me. Apart from that, I did enjoy The Cardinal and its portrayal of Thomas Wolsey. I’ll be interested to see which Tudor figure Alison Weir writes about next – or whether she’ll move away from that period and do something different.

Thanks to Headline Review for providing a copy of this book for review via NetGalley.

Secrets of the Bees by Jane Johnson

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Ezra Curnow is almost eighty years old and has spent his whole life living in a little cottage on the Trengrose estate in Cornwall. It was home to his father and grandfather before him and Ezra can’t imagine living anywhere else. His cottage has no modern appliances or conveniences, not even a television, but Ezra doesn’t see the need; he spends most of his time outdoors with his cat and tame jackdaw, growing his own fruit and vegetables and tending to his bees in their hive.

Ezra’s peaceful life is shattered when Eliza Rosevear, mistress of Trengrose House, dies without leaving a will. The estate goes up for sale and is bought by Toby Hardman, a London businessman, who arrives with his wife Minty, an interior designer, and their teenage son, Dom. As soon as they move in, they begin converting part of the estate into a glamping site and looking for other ways to bring in tourists. Ezra is horrified, particularly when they remove the ancient Celtic cross that gives Trengrose its name. Worse still, it seems that the Hardmans also have their eye on Ezra’s cottage and with no official paperwork to prove that it’s his, he could be at risk of losing his home.

Secrets of the Bees is Jane Johnson’s latest novel and one of several, including The White Hare, that are set in her native Cornwall. Her love for the Cornish landscape, history, customs and people comes through strongly in her descriptive writing and in her creation of Ezra Curnow. Ezra represents tradition and a way of life that has almost disappeared; he has very little in terms of material possessions, but is happy and content. The Hardmans are the complete opposite – they represent change and progress, they have money, cars, technology, yet what they don’t have is happiness. Toby and Minty’s marriage is strained and lacking in trust, while Dom has been expelled from his expensive school for dealing drugs. Although Toby is the villain of the book and seems to be a lost cause, there’s still hope for Minty and Dom and we see them begin to improve and grow as people through their association with Ezra and the Cornish countryside. Dom even became one of my favourite characters, which I certainly hadn’t expected at first.

It’s very common, of course, for residents to object to new developments in their area, particularly ones that could damage the environment or cause noise and disruption, but Ezra takes his protests a step further. He comes up with some very inventive and amusing ways to throw the Hardmans’ plans into disarray, which adds some humour to a serious subject. Proving ownership of his cottage is much more difficult for him – there’s always been an understanding between the Rosevears and the Curnows but apparently nothing has been put in writing. It’s only when we are given some glimpses into the lives of Eliza Rosevear and her family – and into Ezra’s own past, including his National Service in Cyprus in the 1950s – that the truth about the Trengrose estate begins to emerge.

Although the book seemed slow at first and it took a while for things to really start moving, I gradually became completely immersed in the story. I could picture the setting so vividly and I loved everything Jane Johnson had to say about human beings and our relationship with the natural environment. I’ve enjoyed everything I’ve read by Johnson so far, whether set in Cornwall or in other parts of the world, historical or contemporary. I must find time to go back and read the remaining books of hers that I haven’t tried yet.

Thanks to Head of Zeus/Apollo for providing a copy of this book for review via NetGalley.

The Crying of the Wind: Ireland by Ithell Colquhoun

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Ithell Colquhoun was a completely new name for me when I spotted this book on NetGalley recently, but I know now that she was a prominent British surrealist painter in the 1930-40s, as well as an occultist, poet and author of both fiction and non-fiction. The Crying of the Wind, originally published in 1955, describes her travels around Ireland and her impressions of the people she meets and places she visits. It’s the first of three travel books she wrote, with a book on Cornwall following in 1957 and then one on Egypt which has never been published.

Colquhoun bases herself near the village of Lucan on the River Liffey, to the west of Dublin. In each chapter, she sets out on a walk or an excursion by car to visit different parts of Ireland, including Glendalough, Connemara and Cashel. The structure seems a bit haphazard, with no real order or pattern to the places she visits, and the book definitely has the feel of a personal journal rather than something you could use to plan out your own travels. It’s an interesting book, though, and I did enjoy reading it. The descriptive writing is beautiful at times, as you would expect from a book written by a painter; here she describes the approach to Connemara’s Twelve Bens mountain range:

Across miles of mulberrydark bogland we drove towards them, the tawny of king ferns lining the ditches that bordered the road. Air of a wonderful transparency arched above us, blue washed with white gold. I did not regret our slow pace, enforced by the pot-holes in the road, since I could watch the mountains from gradually shifting angles.

Although Colquhoun includes some anecdotes about her encounters with Irish people, the way they live and the conversations she has with them, the main focus of her writing is on the beauty of the natural environment and on places of historical interest such as old churches, holy wells and remains of ancient forts and towers. She often laments the rate of progress and its effect on the natural world; when walking in the countryside, she is very aware of the noise of traffic on busy roads nearby and the sights of new housing developments and factory chimneys altering the landscape forever.

With her interest in the occult, Colquhoun spends a lot of time discussing the myths, legends and folklore of each place she visits. She believes in ghosts, spirits and supernatural beings and accepts their existence in a very matter-of-fact way.

Their forms vary; a friend described one she had seen on some downs in Dorsetshire as being ‘the size of a haystack, opaque but fluid at the edges, moving very quickly’; another is sometimes seen like a tower racing over wide sands on the north coast of Cornwall. I have myself seen in Cornwall one like a massive pillar of unknown substance, with filaments stretched from the top seemingly to hold it to the ground like the guy-ropes of a tent.

The Crying of the Wind is an unusual travel book, then, and also a fascinating one. I’ll look forward to reading her Cornwall book, The Living Stones, which is also available in a new edition from Pushkin Press.

Thanks to Pushkin Press Classics for providing a copy of this book for review via NetGalley.

Written on the Dark by Guy Gavriel Kay

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It seems to me that most moments in a life can be called interludes: following something, preceding something. Carrying us forward, with our needs and nature and desires, as we move through our time. It also seems to me that it is foolish to try to comprehend all that happens to us, let alone understand the world.

This is a beautiful historical fantasy novel loosely inspired by the life of the poet François Villon. It takes us to a world that will be familiar to Kay readers – a world with two moons, one blue and one white, where the three main religions are Asharite, Jaddite and Kindath, corresponding to Islam, Christianity and Judaism – but where his most recent novels have been set in thinly disguised versions of Venice, Dubrovnik and Constantinople, this one takes place in Ferrieres, based on medieval France.

On a freezing cold night in the city of Orane, the young poet Thierry Villar steps out of the tavern in which he’s been staying to find that he is surrounded by armed horsemen. He’s convinced that he’s going to be arrested – desperate for money, Thierry had become embroiled in a plot to rob a sanctuary – but to his surprise, he is escorted through the streets to where a man lies dead, brutally stabbed. This is the Duke de Montereau, one of the most powerful noblemen in Ferrieres and the younger brother of King Roch, who is struggling to rule due to mental illness. In return for not arresting Thierry, the provost of Orane asks him to help discover who murdered the Duke by listening to gossip in the city’s shops and taverns.

If you know your French history, you may have guessed that King Roch is based on King Charles VI, nicknamed ‘the Mad’ due to his episodes of mental instability and a belief that he was made of glass. Montereau, then, is a fictional version of the King’s brother, the Duke of Orléans, who was assassinated in 1407. Other people and incidents in the novel can also be connected to real characters and events from the Hundred Years’ War, which adds an extra layer of interest to the story if you’re familiar with this period of history. If not, it doesn’t matter at all since, as all the names have been changed, the book can also be read as a work of pure fiction.

Written on the Dark is a shorter novel than is usual for Kay and feels more tightly plotted than his other recent books, with a stronger focus on the main character and fewer diversions into the stories of minor characters. This probably explains why I thought this book was more enjoyable than the last two or three. Although I know nothing about the real François Villon so can’t say how his story may correspond with Thierry Villar’s, I found Thierry a likeable character; he has his flaws and sometimes makes mistakes, but this just makes him feel more relatable and human. An overarching theme of the book (and of Kay’s work in general) is the idea that even people who are considered ordinary or insignificant can play a key role in important events and influence not only their own fate but the fates of many others.

The fantasy aspect of the novel is limited mainly to the alternate version of France and to a mysterious character known as Gauvard Colle who can communicate with the ‘half-world’. There are also some surprising twists where things like the Battle of Agincourt and the story of Joan of Arc don’t go in quite the direction you would expect! I loved this one and am looking forward to reading his earlier book inspired by medieval France, A Song for Arbonne, which is one of a small number of Kay novels I haven’t read yet.

Thanks to Hodderscape for providing a copy of this book for review via NetGalley.