When Uncle Oscar passes away unexpectedly, his niece inherits his antique shop. Soon she realizes that things are not all as they seem. Almost before she knows it, she’s drawn into an elaborate treasure hunt, complete with obscure clues, exotic poisons, disguises, secret compartments and all manner of old fashioned derring-do. There are also cats. And frogs. And, in this installment, an albino alligator.
This is one of those series that is hard to sum up in just a few words. It’s more convoluted than that. I’ll freely admit that I wasn’t sold on the first book in the series, but subsequent books have caused me to revise my opinion. Sometimes, it’s all in how you look at things and I was taking the series entirely too seriously. It’s meant to be a romp through California history with some rather peculiar companions, both human and non-human, with tongue planted firmly in cheek. It’s bigger than life.
I also think that Hale is a very visual writer. I tend to skim through books, without taking time to sit and picture a scene in my mind; otherwise I think I might have caught on to the humor sooner. The books are movie-like, long on visual descriptions and action. Some of the things that troubled me in the earlier books are related to this: like a movie director, Hale likes to clue the audience in before the characters sometimes. In previous books, the main character –who, like Bill Pronzini’s creation, has no given name--narrated all or part of the book, so she would describe things the reader knew to be important but for story purposes, the narrator couldn’t respond at the time. This had an unfortunate side effect of making the narrator look dense. The books have a sort of old-time charm to them, sort of like the early serials but updated a bit to suit modern sensibilities.
Hale has a good eye for detail matched with an imaginative way of describing things. For example, the way the albino alligator’s scales peak along its back are compared to the meringue on the top of a custard pie, certainly not something I would have thought about on my own. She also has a knack for making somewhat unlovable characters attractive. Like the frogs before him, Clive the alligator turned into quite the charmer as he realized how lucky he was to have a nice safe place to live in and a nice heated rock. He’s also rather fond of his turtles, even though his poor vision means he can’t really see them. Being a cat person, I’m especially fond of the way she uses Rupert and Isabelle, the narrator’s two cats. Rupert is chicken obsessed, especially the fried variety that Uncle Oscar provided, and mostly concerned with his own comforts. He’s very annoyed when his human inconveniences him in any way, such as moving him off a pile of papers. Isabelle, on the other hand, seems to be in on the Great Game and will sometimes prod her human in the right direction. She’s rather condescending toward “the human help,” but tries to be tolerant. The cats don’t talk directly, by the way: we’re told what’s going on in those fuzzy little heads.
The human characters are similarly off-beat, from Sam the “Frog Whisperer” to Montgomery Carmichael the Life Coach who can almost match Rupert for self-absorption.
Most of all, the books demonstrate a deep love for California and its history, especially the offbeat history. Much of the background in How to Tail a Cat revolves around the Steinhart Aquarium at the California Academy of Sciences, which is a story in itself. A little poking around on the internet showed some wonderful photos of some of the things described at the Aquarium—and the information that they do indeed have an albino alligator named Claude.
If you’re in the market for a book that’s a blend of history, humor, and high jinks with some fantasy thrown in for good measure, this may be just the book for you.
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