Scratch the Surface

Fifty-three-year-old Bostonian, Felicity Pride, has never owned a cat. She has also never solved a mystery; but that hasn't stopped Felicity from being one of the top cat mystery authors in the game, right behind her rival, and supposed recluse, Isabelle Hotchkiss. All Felicity is happy about is finally getting to leave her job in the kindergarten classroom, and spend her days and nights writing, and setting her own schedule. Of course making a bit more money would make her day. To do that, however, she'll have to sell more books; which isn't easy. Felicity realizes that she'll have to do something to give herself more press. When she finds a dead body in her vestibule, she realizes that more press has dropped itself right in her lap, and resolves to milk this mystery as much as possible. Felicity Pride never mimicked her aunt and uncle's lavish home in Newton Park Estates, much like her mother and sister. Instead, she drank the beauty of it all in, and went on her merry way. So when her aunt and uncle are killed in an accident involving a drunk driver, she finds that the home has been left to her, and quickly makes herself comfortable. Sure, the house is big, and can be lonely at times, but Felicity likes it that way. After all, it provides her with more quiet and alone time to spend with Prissy LaChatte, Morris, and Tabitha, the characters of her cat mystery series. When Felicity discovers the body of a strange dead man in her vestibule after a book signing, however, Felicity finds that the enormous house is even more frightening than usual. The dead man is not alone. Beside him is a sweet gray cat, curled in the crook of his arm. The sight of the cat leads Felicity to believe that someone purposely left this man for dead in her vestibule, and knows that it's up to her to step into the role of Prissy LaChatte to finger the killer. But solving a mystery isn't as simple as it seems. For one, suspects are piling up in every direction, and Felicity finds it difficult to make time to investigate and get her typical chores done. It doesn't help much that the detective on the case, Dave Valentine, is a handsome-kneed, kilt-wearing Scot who makes Felicity giddy. But Felicity resolves not to be side-tracked. At least not until she has solved the crime, and gained some new publicity for her flailing mysteries. While I have never read Susan Conant's DOG LOVER'S MYSTERIES, I have been reading the GOURMET GIRL MYSTERIES that she has been penning with her daughter from the get-go. So, as a cat lover, I couldn't pass up the chance to take a trip through the world of Felicity Pride. I was not disappointed. Felicity Pride is a character that I simply couldn't resist. While she seems quite stuffy at times, and appears to eat salmon much too often, there is something so endearing about her that I just can't put my finger on. I loved the fact that, as the book continued, and Felicity was more and more won over by her two new feline friends, she displayed a remar

When Felicity Pride, author of cat mysteries, finds a dead man and a live cat in her vestibule, she decides to emulate the protagonist in her books and solve the mystery. Not because she has a burning desire to bring the killer to justice, but because she wants the publicity to boost her book sales. For the same reason she keeps the cat. She noses out the home of the dead man and she rescues his second cat, keeping this one too. Although her own mysteries are set in London and she knows nothing about American police, she keeps feeding the investigating detective, hoping to start a romance. Just like in her mysteries. This book was a blast to read, a send-up of cat mysteries and writers. Conant wrote it completely straight, very tongue-in-cheek. I'm a long-time fan of Conant's dog mysteries, but this first book of her new cat lover's series is ahead by a tail.

Felicity Pride writes cozy British cat mysteries from the safety of her posh Boston area home. Though she has author delusions of grandeur, she knows in her heart that she can't compete with the likes of Rita Mae Brown, Lilian Jackson Braun, and her closest rival of all, Isabelle Hotchkiss. But Felicity does have a small following, and her fans would be shocked to learn that (a) she's never been involved in solving a murder, and (b) she's never even owned a cat. After a local book signing, Felicity returns to her home to find a dead man and a drugged cat in her vestibule. Suddenly her fictional life becomes real, and she begins to put herself in her protagonist's shoes. What would Prissy LaChatte do, and what crucial information would she glean from her cats, Morris and Tabitha? Much to Felicity's dismay and exasperation, she learns that actual American murder investigations don't proceed like the fictional ones do. Why isn't the handsome detective falling in love with her? And real cats don't act like fictional ones, either. Why do her new feline companions, Edith and Brigitte (both originally owned by the deceased), sleep most of the time? And why does their cat food emit such a horrendous odor? Most importantly: How can Felicity solve this crime and get some free book publicity out of it? This is hands-down the funniest book I have read in a long time! It pokes fun at cats, cat owners, mystery readers, mystery writers, writing groups, Bostonians, and Scottish-Americans. It's great entertainment for any of the above. Five tails up!

I really understand why there are some negative reviews of this book. It's because Conant, to her huge credit, has taken a real chance here. She's written a book with a difficult and somewhat unlikeable heroine, and a lot of subtle humor. Humor based on the ridiculous (but not the dark) side of human nature. And yet this IS a "cozy" mystery rather than a police procedural, thriller, or detective novel. That can be a hard mix to make work, especially when it's nothing the author's fans have come to expect based on earlier books. But in "Scratch the Surface," it DOES work. Felicity couldn't be less like Holly Winter, the heroine of Conant's dog lovers mystery series. And if she had been - if this was just "Holly and Rowdy, but purring instead of woo-wooing," I think THAT would have been a disappointment. Like some of the other reviewers, though, I was taken aback by the first few pages of this book, because that is exactly what I was unconsciously expecting. But once I realized what Conant had done, I started to laugh. I got it. And yes, I loved it. I am a huge fan of the Holly Winter series, but this really is a superior book, with more interesting characters and a lot more scope for plot. The "friends and family" are far from idealized, our heroine is a mess, and only the cats are perfect, as cats always are. (My cats made me say that.) Now, the author may thwap me for this, and if so I'll take my lumps, but Felicity reminds me just a bit of another unlikeable mystery heroine, Agatha Raisin, from the series by "Hamish MacBeth" author M. C. Beaton. I think Felicity is less one-dimensional - even by the end of the first book she has changed more than Agatha has changed in over a dozen of Beaton's books - but the flavor is there. Take a chance. Try not to let your expectations ruin the experience of reading this book on its own merits. And be prepared to laugh.