When I first found A Basquet of Cats, I was intrigued by the promise of a cosy(ish) fantasy. It is one of my all-time favourite genres, and one I often write myself. I was, however, slightly put off by the animal-as-protagonist premise.

Still, I figured the book could be used to kill a few good hours on the train while I was visiting family at the other end of the country. When you live in Denmark, the other end of the country is not that far away.

To my delight, the book exceeded my expectations.

While I’d initially been unsure about the concept of animals as protagonists, I ultimately found that it made the book a wonderfully whimsical read.

The story follows the cat Gentza, whose bonded wizard is trapped by the power of mind magic, leaving his cat companion as his only hope for freedom.

I immediately loved Gentza. Not so much for his talent in magic as for his utter lack of ambition. There was something endearing about a cat whose greatest goal in life was to drink cream and catch a few mice. Gentza certainly wasn’t daydreaming about great adventures, which somehow made it all the more wonderful when he was thrown into one. He reminded me a little of a certain hobbit who finds that the world is vast and dangerous and wonderful — and yet, there’s no place quite like home.

My favourite character, however, was one of the antagonists. I have a fondness for old characters; life doesn’t stop at any age, though the literary world occasionally seems to forget this. At eighteen, Kerbasi is certainly a very old cat. In spite of this, he is a talented fighter and a dangerous enemy to have. I looked up the cat-to-human age ratio and found that the battle-scarred furball is around ninety in human years. Impressive, Kerbasi.

Beyond this, he was a more sympathetic and complex antagonist than I’ve read in a while. I’ve often been introduced to characters as “someone you can’t help but like, in spite of all the bad things they do.” This usually turns out to be untrue, as I rarely have any trouble disliking them at all.

That was not the case for Kerbasi. Instead, I was right there with Gentza as we kept reminding ourselves what exactly Kerbasi had done to our beloved wizard. Well done, Mr. Bieck.

By the time the train pulled into the station, I’d spent every minute of the journey thoroughly immersed. I was two-thirds through the novel, and I finished the last third whenever I could find half an hour to spare. It had been a while since I’d raced through a book like that, and I hadn’t even realised how much I’d missed a story that could make me do just that.

The book got five stars from me, and I would warmly recommend it to anyone who loves adventures like The Hobbit, animal-focused fantasy novels like Tamora Pierce’s Immortals series, or even just cats.

Delightful, impish, demanding, and unpredictable cats.

And if you’d prefer a shorter review, I will give you only two words: 

Whimsically delightful.