Found this lovely wee book on a recent book trawl. Being a largely shallow person , I judged it by its charmong cover. The sight of a comfortable looking cat peering into the heat of a naked fireplace, with a toasty clow playing about its fur,recreating an increasingly unseen view. Its not the sight of a cat in front of a comfortable heat source I refer to. Instead I ask how few people burn fuel so openly these days?
As a read it so reminded me of those genuinely spooky tales of yesteryear that could be found in children's anthologies such as Alfred Hitchcock's Ghostly Gallery or some such collection with a fine line glimpse of some nocturnal terror.That is me sound biting by the way, trying to encourage the casually interested in a spooky wee tale that will linger in ones imagination long after finishing.
If the Children Of One End Street had a cat it would not have been a cat like this. Although the book does have the feel of a cut from the mould of classic children's literature. Rigt down to that moodily atmospheric cover art that sets the tone for the story to follow. The interior illustrations by Peter Bailey continue this moody disosonance. A family take in a limping little kitten, opening their door to the unknowable, both in terms of where the kitten came from and what it potentially may grow into. a kitten can only become a cat after all, in the normal way of things. Strange behaviour and even stranger events begin to manifest as that kitten grows at a fantastic and "improbable" rate. The only member of the family who is alarmed by this series of bizarre developments is the boy David , also the only member of the family who has not as yet...oops, that would be telling.
Beware the cat that walks alone.
