--- To begin with, I'd like to say that I really enjoyed Qwill being able to (albeit within limits) choose his assignment for once, chasing down his own leads on the living conditions and environment of the run-down neighborhood of Junktown. It's refreshing to have the man as his own boss, investigating where he likes, setting his own agenda.
--- Agreed, but that means nearly no interaction with his office buddies. Remember Qwilleran's gab sessions at the Press Club in The Cat Who Could Read Backwards that were so enjoyable? Arch Riker appears here just about as often as he did in the last installment, meaning almost not at all. And there's no Odd Bunsen. Pleh.
--- But the mystery here isn't as complex as the one in Backwards. We don't need little pit stops to sort everything out.
--- Heh, heh, heh.
--- Oh, all right. Name one other mystery you've read that HAS been as complex as Backwards.
--- ...... ......
--- See. And the whodunit in On and Off is quite solid, with an intriguing inquest by Qwilleran into antique dealer Andy Glanz's apparent accidental death and a satisfying solution.
--- Watch that cutesy alliteration. Fine, but that still doesn't account for the blow the absence of Qwill's Fluxion staff buddies deals to the story. None of Junktown's locals really grab your attention, and mysteries are uninvolving if they aren't fueled by interesting characters. There aren't any Harry Noytons or Mountclemenses here.
--- But you have to admit that Mary Duckworth's poise and tough brand of grace make her stand out from the rest of the pack; her presence isn't as commanding as the aforementioned folks, but she's an original character, and she does lend intrigue and a quiet strength to the proceedings. And you're wrong about the mystery being "uninvolving" - Mary Duckworth's indignant rage at working hard at maintaining the classy image of her shop and yet being "classfied as a Class C junk dealer", and C. C. Cobb's tales of the residents ponying using their own funds to add a few meager civic improvements to their street and the city commissions ripping them down and off with all the cruel ferocity of Cinderella's stepsisters on her homemade ball gown, are some of the most infuriating, outrage-inducing tidbits in the series thus far. The focus and heart of the story isn't in any one solo performance - it's about a group of people who don't really like each other personally banding together to preserve their home against a city that doesn't care.
--- Oh, spare me the bleeding heart stories. These people are working together only to collectively save their own hides. Your own mother's been in the antique trade for 30 years; you know from her experiences that antique dealers are only out to hustle a buck any way they can, with no regard for ethics. They sure as heck aren't going to give a darn about Junktown just for the idea of "public welfare" alone. They may complain about how the neighborhood is being forced downhill, but they're plenty happy to strip the condemned houses down for salvage.
--- And what do you think'd happen to the ornamentations if the dealers *didn't* take them? They'd be smashed by the wrecking ball. At least they're preserving what they can of the architecture.
--- Perhaps. But they all seem to be making out pretty well from their profiteering. Russell Patch has a $20,000 sound system. Sylvia Katzenhide is doing a booming business ripping off the Planned Ugliness store from Danish Modern. Each of the Three Weird Sisters has another ample source of income for which she doesn't have to work. And Mary Duckworth sells quintuple-digit chairs and is a society heiress! These people aren't the poor downtroddens that the book'd like us to believe they are. The only ones who have to really work for their living are the Cobbs.
--- Ah, yes, Iris Cobb, Qwilleran's landlady. May I digress a bit to talk about her? If there is any "two-facedness" among the characters, Iris is the unimpeachable exception. It's so comforting to have an island of pure grandmotherly benignity amidst the chaos of Junktown; she's a genuine sweetie, and a treat. And is there no truer-to-life scene in the book than the one in which Iris awakens Qwilleran early in the morning to ask for his help in finding her missing husband? The deadened silence of the ride in the taxi, both passengers silenced by paralyzing, mind-numbing dread, and, upon the full, crashing realization of her husband's fate, Iris's raw cry of "What will I do?...What will I do?...I loved that wonderful man!" are so accurate. The details of Iris's behavior during the afternoon drive to the airport - self-consciously side-skipping saying the word "funeral", solemnly replying that "Coconut was C. C.'s favorite" to an offhand compliment from Qwilleran on the cakes she bakes - so subtly reflects that the weight of her loss is always in the back of her mind - I've never seen grief more truthfully portrayed in writing. Nothing in the story seems false when Iris in the scene.
--- Agreed. But she just makes all the other dealers look all the more hokey when they put on the pretense of good-will-through-sticking-together.
--- Yes, but, again, you've got to admit they're inspiring.
--- More like pragmatic. Which the ending wasn't; do you really fall for the premise that that messy, hopeless situation could be tied-up in such a fairy-tale resolution? Dream on, honey.
--- But Qwilleran's methods of bringing about that fairy-tale ending aren't implausible; in fact, they're quite ingenious, which makes his handiwork all the more admirable. And, hey, the Fluxion'd do anything to feed a good story!
--- Yeah, and why didn't we get to read any of Qwill's copy, anyway? We never get a glance of a single paragraph Qwilleran writes; we're not even let in on what kind of spin he puts on the series! It'd sure be nice if the audience could READ this award-winning story, huh!?
--- I wish you'd shut up and let me write this review.
So, did I like The Cat Who Turned On and Off? Yeah. A lot of it stirred up feelings of ambivalence in me, but it's to the book's credit that the situation engaged my reflective side so much. And yet - here we go again - On and Off never seems to consider the distinct possibility that someone else might have a different interpretation of the events at hand than its own. I don't know whether this was Braun's intention or not, but that's how the chips lie. As much as such bad feelings crept up on me, however, they didn't dissuade me from disliking the novel, as they had to do with the attitude the book took the the proceedings, not the substance of the events themselves. I'd also like to point out that, as I said in the opening paragraph, these opinions were formed after rereading the book - most of them never surfaced in my first few times through. On the other hand, most of my observations on the series in general surfaced after - aaaaggghh, I'm not gonna play this game anymore. On and Off is a worthy installment of the city series; while it doesn't reach out and grab you, it's well-built, sturdy Braun, and it's worth your time.
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