The Guest Cat
The Guest Cat, by Takashi Hiraide
Blurb:A couple in their thirties live in a small rented cottage in a quiet part of Tokyo. They work at home as freelance writers. They no longer have very much to say to one another.One day a cat invites itself into their small kitchen. She is a beautiful creature. She leaves, but the next day comes again, and then again and again. New, small joys accompany the cat; the days have more light and colour. Life suddenly seems to have more promise for the husband and wife; they go walking together, talk and share stories of the cat and its little ways, play in the nearby Garden. But then something happens that will change everything again.Hmm... Well, I have to say I actually didn't find this book all that interesting, in fact, I found it quite boring and there was so much description that I often found myself re-reading passages because it had lost me along the way because it was so long-winded.There were some nice sentiments, but honestly I thought it was a bit over the top. I'm an animal lover myself and I do understand the attachment people have to their pets - also having been to Japan, I know how coo-coo some Japanese can be about their animals, especially cats which are seen as good luck - but I thought it went a bit over the top, especially having to select an apartment so that you could see the cats grave.However, I did like the end with the family of stray cats, I actually found that part more heartwarming than the bits with Chiba.My favourite quotes from 'The Guest Cat':'The noble minded do not thrust others aside in order to make their way in the world. But then they themselves are ultimately thrust aside by the advancing tide.''I wonder where it all comes from - this need to go to the place where the body has been laid to rest. It's the need to reconfirm how precious someone was and how irreplaceable, and the desire to reconnect with them on a different plane.''But a piece of writing, no matter how you interpret it, isn't the same thing as an abduction. The act of writing also crosses borders indiscriminately.'
Blurb:A couple in their thirties live in a small rented cottage in a quiet part of Tokyo. They work at home as freelance writers. They no longer have very much to say to one another.One day a cat invites itself into their small kitchen. She is a beautiful creature. She leaves, but the next day comes again, and then again and again. New, small joys accompany the cat; the days have more light and colour. Life suddenly seems to have more promise for the husband and wife; they go walking together, talk and share stories of the cat and its little ways, play in the nearby Garden. But then something happens that will change everything again.Hmm... Well, I have to say I actually didn't find this book all that interesting, in fact, I found it quite boring and there was so much description that I often found myself re-reading passages because it had lost me along the way because it was so long-winded.There were some nice sentiments, but honestly I thought it was a bit over the top. I'm an animal lover myself and I do understand the attachment people have to their pets - also having been to Japan, I know how coo-coo some Japanese can be about their animals, especially cats which are seen as good luck - but I thought it went a bit over the top, especially having to select an apartment so that you could see the cats grave.However, I did like the end with the family of stray cats, I actually found that part more heartwarming than the bits with Chiba.My favourite quotes from 'The Guest Cat':'The noble minded do not thrust others aside in order to make their way in the world. But then they themselves are ultimately thrust aside by the advancing tide.''I wonder where it all comes from - this need to go to the place where the body has been laid to rest. It's the need to reconfirm how precious someone was and how irreplaceable, and the desire to reconnect with them on a different plane.''But a piece of writing, no matter how you interpret it, isn't the same thing as an abduction. The act of writing also crosses borders indiscriminately.'
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