What I'd Like to See in the Cat Who... Series

Well, you read the title, didn't you?

• I think that the Moose County populace has been fawning over Qwilleran too much in the recent installments, particularly in Robbed a Bank. Now that they've started naming buildings after him and his kin, I have the horrible fear that Pickax is going to turn into a copy of Wall, South Dakota, that creepy town where absolutely everything - the hotels, the gas stations, the Dairy Queen - is owned by and named after the Wall family, the proprietors of the town's central and only attraction, Wall Drug. (And what makes Wall Drug so remarkable? Absolutely nothing - all Wall Drug did was produce the most exhaustively comprehensive line of merchandising junk known to man, taking no heed that they had zippo attractions to merchandise, and it became a tourist destination of its own making.) The degree to which the Walls own the whole town and use every inch of every building in the commercial zones for self-promotion - the fact that you cannot get away from the Wall presence in that town - is supremely unsettling, so I don't wanna see Pickax take even one more step in that direction. (And, readers, by the way, please don't take my unease with the way Wall is run as any sort of affront to the citizens of Wall or South Dakota in general. I mentioned Wall Drug on the mailing list a few weeks ago and drew considerable flak for it.)

  This over-adulation is also unrealistic in the fact that, from my experience, the big kahunas of small towns usually aren't revered, they're reviled, if only out of resentful envy of all the power and influence they have. The Qwilleran in the early country books (and by that term, I mean from Played Brahms to Talked to Ghosts), for all his philantropy, is still treated basically like a tourist - they love his money but not his presence, which is looked upon as intrusive. (Their treatment of Aunt Fanny, whom everyone praised and spoke of adoringly in the public eye but feared and resented in private and downright despised when they didn't get their cut of her money they thought their perceived obseqiousness ensured them, also illustrates this point. Qwilleran himself could turn into another Aunt Fanny, Dictator of Pickax, if his ego and perceived influence in town is continued to be puffed up and allowed to grow at its recent rate, which would make for interesting full-circle irony but be saddening to see sympathetic, down-to-earth Qwill go the way of self-absorbed SOB.) The locals tolerate Qwilleran for what he brings to their community, but, at heart, he's an outsider to them (as evidenced by how the populace at large nigh-instantly pounces all over Qwill in Went Underground during the murder investigation). The recent Lake Wobegon-ish beatification of Moose County as a place of universally good, homey folks has sacrificed some of the books' depth; having most of the county's residents be indeed basically good at heart but have this one dark side/blind spot of xenophobic protectiveness made me want to throttle a lot of people at times but often made for intriguing, engrossing conflicts (take Gary Pratt's conscience-searching, which-side-am-I-on soul-searching in Went Underground when he learns that Qwill's life is in danger).

  While I didn't fall in love with the character of June Halliburton, it was interesting to have one member of the cast who held some hostility towards the Q-man (I would've liked to have seen it further developed - too bad June didn't hang around longer). Now, I don't mean for Braun to resort to the woefully typical cozy-mystery tactic of bringing in some character who has no depth or other role in the story than to say and do mean/uppity thing after mean/uppity thing with no purpose than to antagonize the lead characters and the reader (June just had a smugly haughty, passive-aggressive attitude toward Qwilleran that she bared whenever she happened to meet him; she never went out of her way for the express reason of getting Qwilleran's goat, if only because she probably thought she had better things to do with her time than to spend it on him) - after reading through samplings of other cozy series, I've found the device depressingly common, quite cheap, and deeply insulting to a reader's intelligence, and I'd like to think that the Cat Who...s are above that. Just not having everyone throwing themselves at Qwill's feet would be nice.

  The only time Qwill's REALLY been in hot water up in Moose County (barring all the facing-down-the-murderer climax scenes) was the aforementioned time when he was under suspicion as a serial killer in Went Underground. It didn't last long, but it provided for some tense, memorable drama. I'm not arguing that Qwill should necessarily be put on the most-wanted list again (though I must say that another incarnation of the situation would be interesting), but let's at least see Qwilleran run into some measure of adversity up north.

• Another point - the viewpoint of the hero does not always have to match that of the narrative. For example, Qwilleran was clearly bending over backwards to ingratiate himself to Zoë Lambreth in Could Read Backwards, forever proclaiming her an innocent victim of the tragedy and never catching on to her, not even at the end - but the book's presentation of her mannerisms, dialogue, and oddly perfectly-timed gradual revelations intimated to the reader that Lambreth was not the pure, guileless angel that she seemed, instead using her helpless-female tack and attractiveness to manipulate all those around her - including Qwilleran, stringing him along in order to get him to use his investigative talents to help clear her - without ever overtly stating the fact. On the other, contrasting hand, Moose County's aforementioned xenophobia still rears its head in books as late as Said Cheese, but Braun's viewpoint sides with the locals and their hysterical, paparazzi-esque obsession over Onoosh, and the whole episode, which could've been another look into the extreme behavior produces when Moose County's gossipy nosiness combines with its protective isloationism, devolves into revolting ridiculousness. The books seldom find humor in Pickax's small-town absurdities anymore, instead taking them all with dead-on seriousness and reverence, bestowing upon them an inner wisdom and credibility they neither have nor deserve. Having the narrative lose its independent perspective stifles opportunities for character study and, in this context, reinforces the cloying Qwilleran/Moose County-is-always-right attitude that, to me, has become sickening.

• On a similar note, you don't have to make the characters likeable in every way to make the reader want to learn more about them. Courtney Hampton from Lived High, for example, was indeed, as Amberina called him, an "insufferable snob", but his pitiful but whole-hearted attempts at social-climbing and impressing his fellow tenants at the Casablanca with his supposed class, well-written and insightful, constituted one of the book's many high points - and the man's wit was indeed entertaining (take the whole riotous "Casablanca Cathouse" number, for instance). That mentality accounts for much of the current monotony among the new supporting characters, who're made so inoffensive in attempts to get the readers to like 'em that they end up nigh-completely vapid.

• With all the crimes Qwill's found himself involved with, we've never once heard about him testifying at any of the resultant trials. I know that the tone of the Cat Who... series isn't overly conducive to courtroom scenes, as the stories really don't involve themselves in the legal process, but I think that such a scene could be interesting, novel change of venue - perhaps even serve as the launchpad for the events of another whole book. (I'd be interesting to see Qwilleran attempt to explain how exactly he was led to all those clues without getting thrown off the stand for an insane "psychic cat" defense.)

• Harsh Assertion #1 - Thornton Haggis should die. He's running neck-and-neck with Rollo McBee and Pender Wilmot for the (un)distinction of Blandest, Most Generic Standard Issue Moose County Male, and the only real contribution he could make to the story would be as chalk-outline fodder. (Rollo and Pender don't contribute anything to the proceedings either, but since they have kids, Thornton gets the ax. (I have to say that that Rollo's kid seems assez-OK, though wasn't the role of Qwilleran's Precocious Kid Neighbor already filled by Pender's brat?))

• Harsh Assertion #2 - Speaking of chalk-outline fodder - the time has come for prominent supporting characters to start getting whacked again. In the early country books, the supporting cast was constantly being thinned, to good effect - their deaths were just the surface of intriguing, well-illustrated human dramas in which the victims had ensnared themselves - dramas that spawned intricate mysteries in their unraveling; the multi-leveled stories behind the murders, I believe, were what truly drew the reader in. This human level is missing from many of the recent mysteries - the current convention of having a thinly-developed newcomer from Down Below abruptly appear in Chapter 1 only to get offed (often by equally shallow criminals who only appear up north to commit their malfeasance and be apprehended) is becoming clichéd and uninvolving. It's a tough road to follow, but considering the current size of the supporting cast, I think we can suffer some casualties.

• A next-book-specific request - finally give due coverage to Amanda's campaign for mayor. It's been toyed with for two volumes now without really going anywhere. Please don't have the whole plot thread play itself off-page between books, with only a mention of the outcome in Chapter 1, like Celia's wedding.

• Return to cats to their status in the city books as full-fledged characters in the proceedings. I'd like to see the reëmergence of plotlines involving the pair on par with Could Read Backwards's exploration of Qwill and Koko's respectful friendship, or Koko's loneliness-related neuroses in Ate Danish Modern, or even Yum Yum's campaign for equal rights in Sniffed Glue. Right now, the Siamese're brought on stage just to be either clue dispensers or do typically feline things to prompt idiomatic musings about the majesty and inscrutable wisdom of cats. The best way to pay tribute to the intelligence of the cats would be to treat them as complex characters as their human counterparts.

• I don't want to see Qwilleran in kilts anymore - the plotline's become silly. I don't want to see Bixby County - it adds nothing to the series. I mentioned both of the preceding opinions in my random notes on Robbed a Bank. Both bear repeating.

• Romance: There's currently another "Polly: good or bad?" thread circulating on the mailing list. (More accurately, it's become a "should Polly die?" thread with a "would Qwilleran care?" sub-topic. Both assertions, in my eyes, are extreme - Qwilleran's reactions to Polly's heart attack and near-abduction prove that he does indeed care deeply about Polly, and it'd be dismally sad if she died, regardless of how the reader personally feels about her, due to how distraught and depressed Qwill would be (à la with Joy in Saw Red - I didn't care for the selfish, carelessly capricious Joy, but Qwilleran's anguished denial really struck me).) As I've said before, I don't have a big problem with Polly - Qwill could do better, but she's not bad - and, though it'd be nice for the woman to show a bit more of a personality, I'm rather content with the relationship as portrayed in Robbed a Bank (which had a higher-than-average number of scenes with Polly). Some have speculated that the arrival of rare-book expert Kirt Nightingale could create a sort of love triangle; I don't think Kirt could constitute a serious rival for Polly's affections - a goodly diversion, perhaps, though, considering Polly's propensity for flings as exhibited with Steve in Knew a Cardinal. (I'm still suspicious of both Kirt and Barry Morghan, though, considering the latter's excessive nosiness concerning the inner working of Moose County and its townfolk and the former's Danielle Carmichael-ish introduction, late in the book but with considerable fanfare and the promise of further developments involving the character.)

• Concerning Qwilleran's sudden interest in starting a family, as hinted at by Robbed a Bank - no kids or marriage to Polly, please - at least not till the end of the final book, whenever that is. Braun's used good sense in having Qwill and Polly remain committed but single in the legal sense and living in separate housing - another constant presence in the heroes' household would hinder the Qwill-Koko-Yum Yum sleuthing dynamic and hamper Qwilleran's mobility to investigating the crimes. (Fathering a baby would also be a giant act of egotism for Qwill, for at his current age of 57, he could very well not be around to help care for it to adulthood.)

• Let's develop Onoosh into a three-dimensional character. Right now, she's used only as pseudo-exotic background noise, just because she's from a faraway foreign country; she's never really developed beyond the unknown shrouded stranger that blew into Moose County in Said Cheese. The different, unique perspective on Moose County matters she must hold should be explored.

• The conversations between Qwilleran and his friends lately - particularly some in Robbed a Bank - have been literary to the point of stiltedness. They trade quotations from Browning and Keats like others trade offhand comments about the weather, which only happens among pretentious liberal-arts college students. I suspect this is a side-effect of the petering out of individuality and depth in many of the supporting characters - the conversations can't mine the characters for any real, individual outlooks or reactions because the folks are so flat, so quotations and trivia are substituted to give the air of a "deep" conversation in lieu of actual interesting character interaction, and the device is wearing thin to the point of being dangerously, patience-tryingly transparent.

• Y'know, we haven't heard anything of Miriam lately. She's taken on the air of Jane Eyre's Mrs. Rochester - the never-mentioned Rich Man's Mad First Wife locked up in in the deep, dark recesses of Connecticut. How about a plotline or, at least, some story development dealing with her?

• Finally - no more UFO stuff. The paranormal aspects of Went Underground was the book's greatest weakness. The end scene of Saw Stars was ridiculous and out of place in the series. I live right next door to the aunt of the author who produced the cattle-mutilation classic Mystery Stalks the Prairie, so I get enough of the stuff at home.

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