I recently discovered this unfinished post from September. I am going to attempt to salvage it, because I Photoshopped a graphic and everything. I am regretting the title immensely, by the way, but it's already in the url.
Over the summer, I suddenly found myself wanting to post about a mini list of books with magical cats in them. I am sure there are many more books concerning magical cats (The Subtle Knife by Philip Pullman suddenly leaps to mind), but these were the three that surfaced in recent memory.
Over the summer, I suddenly found myself wanting to post about a mini list of books with magical cats in them. I am sure there are many more books concerning magical cats (The Subtle Knife by Philip Pullman suddenly leaps to mind), but these were the three that surfaced in recent memory.
Why magical cats in the first place? Some part of it I'm sure has to do with me being an introvert and a cat person, but part of it has also goes back to the idea of the classic feline familiar. Cats and magic just seem to coexist well together, whatever world they're in. If you find yourself to be a person of similar thinking, try these, if you haven't already.
1. Sabriel by Garth Nix. Arguably the most important (and intriguing!) character in this trilogy is a little white cat called Mogget. He's a snarky brat, as any talking cat should be, who helps our heroine along her journey. And of course, he's much more than he seems.
2. Castle in the Air by Diana Wynne Jones. This is the second book in a loose trilogy, so you should certainly read Howl's Moving Castle first. Unfortunately, the cats are really only in this middle book, and well, all right. They're also more than they seem. Let's just assume that all magical cats are more than they appear to be.
3. The Ocean at the End of the Lane by Neil Gaiman. This book isn't quite the classic high fantasy like the others, and the cats don't play as key a role as the aforementioned ones do. But there is something very enchanting about them, no pun intended, just as there is about the way Neil Gaiman says "kitten" in the audiobook version. (I think it's a British enunciation thing, that crisp division between syllables that Americans tend to slur.)
1. Sabriel by Garth Nix. Arguably the most important (and intriguing!) character in this trilogy is a little white cat called Mogget. He's a snarky brat, as any talking cat should be, who helps our heroine along her journey. And of course, he's much more than he seems.
"I have a variety of names," replied the cat. It had a strange voice, half-mew, half-purr, with hissing on the vowels. "You may call me Mogget. As to what I am, I was once many things, but now I am only several. Primarily, I am a servant of Abhorsen. Unless you would be kind enough to remove my collar?" (77).
2. Castle in the Air by Diana Wynne Jones. This is the second book in a loose trilogy, so you should certainly read Howl's Moving Castle first. Unfortunately, the cats are really only in this middle book, and well, all right. They're also more than they seem. Let's just assume that all magical cats are more than they appear to be.
The cat, Abdullah noticed, had all this while been peacefully licking at her kitten in the hat. She did not seem to know the genie was there. But she knew about the salmon all right. As soon as it started cooking, she left her kitten and wound herself around the soldier, thin and urgent and meowing. "Soon, soon, my black darling!" the soldier said.
Abdullah could only suppose that the cat's magic and the genie's were so different that they were unable to perceive each other (138).
3. The Ocean at the End of the Lane by Neil Gaiman. This book isn't quite the classic high fantasy like the others, and the cats don't play as key a role as the aforementioned ones do. But there is something very enchanting about them, no pun intended, just as there is about the way Neil Gaiman says "kitten" in the audiobook version. (I think it's a British enunciation thing, that crisp division between syllables that Americans tend to slur.)
I looked down: the furry tendril by my feet was perfectly black. I bent, grasped it at the base, firmly, with my left hand, and I pulled.
Something came up from the earth, and swung around angrily. My hand felt like a dozen tiny needles had been sunk into it. I brushed the earth from it, and apologised, and it stared at me, more with surprise and puzzlement than with anger. It jumped from my hand to my shirt, I stroked it: a kitten, black and sleek, with a pointed, inquisitive face, a white spot over one ear, and eyes of a peculiarly vivid blue-green (44).
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