The Cat Who Talked Turkey (2004)

I picked this up from the library for some easy reading while waiting for doctor's appointments. Either this one was the worst of the series, or I'd forgotten how bad the other ones were. Never mind the simple plot -- I find that's a bonus when reading between appointments. What really bugged me was the really bad writing, and complete lack of editing. ( )

It was okay. Not my cupOtea. ( )

A good one. Lots of info on the people and town with a classic little murder (or two) to keep you wondering how it's all going to tie together. The title is misleading. While it ties in to the story.. it doesn't have a dang thing to do with the murders. Or am I mising something? Only in Moose County could Mr. Q get away with what he gets away with. ( )

Murder mysteries are my guilty reading pleasure. They're the perfect sort of brain candy for when you just want to immerse yourself into something distracting. The Cat Who series has the added bonus of featuring two things that I find interesting - a rural town in the middle of nowhere, and Siamese cats. I've always had a fantasy of leaving the world behind and going to live in a small rural town (although in reality I think I'd go crazy after the first week) and of course I love cats, so what's not to like about this series?

The idea is there's a newspaper reporter from the big city who strikes it stupid rich and settles in a small rural community and investigates odd happenings in his spare time with the "assistance" of his cat Koko. (Although Koko's "assistance" is arguably in the reporter's imagination). This particular book in the series was not very good. It didn't make much use of Jim Qwilleran, the investigator, who I like a lot. It didn't really feature the cats much, and the "crime" wasn't even the focus of the story! Definitely not her best work.

It was a pleasant ambling tale that I'd have enjoyed far more had it not been for all the inauthentic Scottishness rubbed in again and again, which increasingly grated. The book was set in some town in which you could sit out by the lake - what writer in her right mind could conceive that Scottish expatriates might call that town Brrr? As for the idea that everyone had marmalade recipes passed down the generations - pah!