Skip to main contentNever underestimate the power of National Public Radio. On Saturday, Dec. 14, British writer Nick Smith presented his new book, Milk Treading, on All Things Considered. Within hours of his appearance, the book began a quick climb up Amazon.com's list of best sellers, from its spot in the low thousands to a place in the high hundreds. Quite notable for a book that has yet to find an American distributor, and it's also quite a feat for a book that is a rather weak pastiche of dime crime fiction.
What distinguishes Smith's book from other such salutes to the genre is that his characters are cats. However, these are not like the feline pair in Lilian Jackson Braun's Qwilleran mystery series, nor are they like Mrs. Murphy, the witty tabby in Rita Mae Brown's Sneaky Pie collection (has anyone ever seen Braun and Brown in the same room?). Smith's cats are completely anthropomorphized and live in a humanless world, though there is a dropped clue toward the book's end that man may have gone the way of the dinosaur.
Smith's protagonist, Julius Kyle, is a washed-up crime novelist who slaves away as a hack journalist. Investigating the suicide of a friend, Kyle stumbles upon a number of leads that will eventually add up to a citywide conspiracy. It will come as no great surprise to the reader to find that the experience will serve to revitalize Kyle's prose, as he discovers new inspiration to take up his career as a novelist.
If only Smith had been equally inspired.
Smith settles simply for tarting up a tired genre parody with talking pusses, which gives him a license to engage in some predictable wordplay: "Eating out of your paw," "Rat got your tongue," "Felis non grata," and the wince-making "basmati mice." The newspaper that Kyle writes for is, of course, The Scratching Post. Yet this invention is sporadic. Smith early on coins "moggycoddle" then reverts later to "molly-" twice. The word "people" also springs up on occasion, though Smith early on seems to be trying to avoid any human designations for his creatures.
Smith's prose is as sophomoric as his wordplay: "Priestly life wasn't for them and their calling had been a wrong number." Then there's this deathless exchange: "'I suppose you're going to see that whippersnapper Kyle,' he added in a churlish drawl. 'He does not snap whippers,' Camilla was indignant." And so, dear reader, was I.
The idea of using animals as characters is as old and noble as fable, but there are some non-fabular examples that are worthy of consideration. Perhaps one of the finest of fairly recent books is the unjustly overlooked Lives of the Monster Dogs by Kirsten Bakis, a remarkable novel that leaves the reader with as much understanding of the canine condition as the human. Smith leaves us with little other than relief that his effort is brief.
"Milk treading" is the term for the kneading action cats perform long after they've been weaned from their mothers. Smith's Milk Treading is, in kind, only so much poking against the dry tit of genre send-up.
By Nick Smith (Luath Press Limited, 196 pages, $19.95)
Nick Smith has also turned his novel into a play, which was performed recently at the Edinburgh Fringe Festival.
WWeek 2015