A cat named Cat gets mad, solves mystery, gets mad again
One Mad Cat: And the Missing Book
by Vicky Fang
Toronto: Candlewick, 2026
$19.99 / 9781536239133
Reviewed by Brett Josef Grubisic
*
Cat, the irascible protagonist of One Mad Cat: And the Missing Book, could be nicknamed Crab. She would not be amused, however.
Vicky Fang introduces Cat with a series of negations. “I’m so mad” are Cat’s first words. She really doesn’t like toys—nor hugs, jokes, noise, rain, wall-to-wall carpeting, stripes, or bad art. Crumbs, those also.
Naps, snacks, and puzzles are all right, as are friends, which include Bunny, Hedgehog, and Mouse.
For kids, North Vancouver-based Vicky Fang (prolific author of the Layla and the Bots series) introduces a main character with strong feelings who’s also okay with expressing them.
There’s no root cause—no trouble at home, no schoolyard bully or social isolation, no aching lack in her life that helps explain her generally crabby outlook. She’s mad, she has a idiosyncratic and bluntly expressed list of dislikes, and she not about to apologizes for any of it and even give the matter much thought. These emotions, these feeling are part and parcel; for Cat, they just are.
Insofar as it’s possible for this adorably cute feline to stomp around the attractive, pastel-hued, and stylized world that Fang draws—it’s spare, highly artificial (but intriguingly so), and pleasantly silly à la Jeff Koons (Balloon Dog and Rabbit, I mean, rather than Ballerinas or Hulk (Yoke)—Cat stomps.
For kids, maybe, Fang acknowledges the existence of biting opinions and dark stormy clouds of feeling; they’re just an aspect of the emotional spectrum for cats and humans alike.
And as such, they do not require an apology or a need to be retracted or stifled. It’s not a turn-that-frown-upside-down dictatorship of cheeriness in One Mad Cat: And the Missing Book. And neither is it a cozy autocracy where “If you can’t say something nice, don’t say nothing at all” (to quote Thumper in Bambi) is the first and only commandment.
If anger and dislike and irritation (Cat is irritated that her blue locker at school is… blue) are parts of consciousness that we strive to purge from ourselves or to overcome—and teach children the same—then One Mad Cat: And the Missing Book is a bit of an oasis where anyone, or at least Cat, can just be themselves and not fret about hurt feelings, sanctimonious lectures about silver linings, or repercussions. Cantankerous Cat is irritated by a blue locker, she dislikes car trips and sock puppets, her friends bug her—so be it.
At school, Hedgehog becomes distressed—“Ack!” Hedgehog exclaims, like in Cathy cartoon panels—because her favourite book, Book of Pies, has gone missing. Cat recognizes the situation. It’s a puzzle. She likes the challenge of a puzzle, and decides she will work on this one.
Bunny is the first suspect, but Bunny confesses to liking to eat pie, not read about it. To the library next, where Mouse suggests looking for clues and returning to the scene of the crime. The puzzle is now a mystery. Soon enough the discovery of bubble gum makes Cat so angry she has to count slowly to calm herself. (There’s a limit to how much anger one should experience or allow themselves, Fang implies, and there are easy techniques for keeping it at a manageable level.)
Following a humorous, Seussian path throughout school, the intrepid sleuth does figure out the case of the missing book. (It’s not much of a mystery, really, but then neither are young children itching for The Murder of Roger Ackroyd.)
And not surprisingly, the flimsiness of the frivolous puzzle/mystery angers Cat, who has wasted her time. With a distinct frown, downcast whiskers, and a thick arched brow, Cat ends her latest adventure pretty much as she began it. “Cat is mad,” the narrator states. As though to confirm that fact, Cat chimes in too: “I’m so mad!”
For young readers and everyone else, One Mad Cat: And the Missing Book is whimsical and deeply silly fun. It’s generous in regard to our fiery, hurtful emotions and offers youngsters a novel perspective for their own seething emotional life, which is nothing if not volatile.
*
Brett Josef Grubisic assigns, edits, and posts fiction, poetry, and children’s lit reviews for BCR; occasionally, he contributes reviews as well. Less occasionally, he doodles on Cull, his work-in-progress sixth novel. [He’s written about recent books by Paul Breau, Charles Demers and Kirsten Pendreigh, Joseph Dandurand, Cathalynn Cindy Labonté-Smith, Susannah M. Smith, Théodora Armstrong, Faith Erin Hicks, Hetxw’ms Gyetxw, Nathan Fairbairn, Otoniya Bitek, Martin Butler, and many others for BCR.]
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The British Columbia Review
Interim Editors: Trevor Marc Hughes (nonfiction), Brett Josef Grubisic (fiction and poetry)
Publisher: Richard Mackie
Formerly The Ormsby Review, The British Columbia Review is an online book review and journal service for BC writers and readers. The Advisory Board now consists of Jean Barman, Wade Davis, Robin Fisher, Barry Gough, Hugh Johnston, Kathy Mezei, Patricia Roy, and Graeme Wynn. Provincial Government Patron (since September 2018): Creative BC. Honorary Patron: Yosef Wosk. Scholarly Patron: SFU Graduate Liberal Studies. The British Columbia Review was founded in 2016 by Richard Mackie and Alan Twigg.
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