During lockdown, Rhiannon Lucy Cosslett, like many others, got a cat, and her memoir recounts the first year of feline ownership, interlaced with excavations of the author’s past. At first, the premise seems twee. Only cat people will be onboard with descriptions of little Mackerel the kitten’s cuteness. But the acquisition of a pet is really just a conceit for Cosslett to explore much deeper issues around womanhood and society.
The author invites us to consider why a woman might retire from the world, “retreat from a game that felt rigged against us” in terms of the unfairness, judgment and abuse women and girls encounter in their relationships, work lives, everyday activities and family dynamics. She makes a powerful argument for the way a pet can create a feeling of stability in an unequal and often atomised society and work culture. Her observations are sharp and accurate, and I was far more gripped by her bleak clarity on these contemporary problems than on the details of the cat’s efforts to excrete the piece of string it ate.
