This book is one of Simenon’s ‘Roman durs’ or ‘hard novels’. Most know him for his Maigret series, which I am yet to start reading, but Simenon was determined to also write deeper literary novels. Located in Paris, Émile lives with his wife Marguerite. Marguerite is his second wife, both having been married previously and widowed. But the two married quickly and the outcome of the union which I think for Marguerite was to find security and safety as she aged, and for Émile to have companionship, never really worked out the way they intended. The marriage broke down quite quickly, but when Émile suspects Marguerite of poisoning his cat while he was ill, it quickly deteriorates into a creepy psychological thriller, as the couple stop talking to each other, exchanging only bitter and barbed notes written on paper, the favourite of Émile being a note with ‘the cat’ written on it. "They each watched the other. They had no need to look at one another. For years, they’d been covertly eyeing each other like this, constantly introducing new subtleties into this little game." pg.3 But while this is an intriguing read of tense suspense as to where this charade will lead, it is also deeply human. Grief, anger, betrayal and a sense of entrapment, from which neither fully wants to extract themselves from. While they may never have planned to end up in a stale mate, pawns on a chess board in an endless dance, they both have achieved what they initially sought in a shaky unlikely way, security for Marguerite and companionship for Émile. Though even these are challenged after an unsettling scene of violence. It is hard to review this book without commenting on the ending, which is where a kind of softness appears in each of the characters. The book is like a game of cat and mouse, perhaps another reason for naming the book ‘the cat’, with both Émile and Marguerite trying to take the upper hand. Throughout the book, the roles switch regularly, which to my other analogy of playing chess, is like each taking a move and seeing the reaction it will bring. And thus, it is that, while both appear to detest the other, they also cannot seem to see any future outside of the relationship – neither seem capable of fully stepping out of the game. "Several ideas crossed Émile’s mind and he discarded them one after the other. The rhythm of the knitting needles had changed slightly. He’d managed to rattle her, or at any rate to pique her curiosity." pg.5 I found this book intriguing, the writing is fantastic (aside from a fault in the text provided that dropped combinations of letters where they contained fi, fl, ff, etc which is clearly an issue in the pre-publication copy). Simenon clearly can build a scene and relationships, and despite this book being short, the characters are fully developed. Neither are very likeable, which normally for me will prevent me from engaging with the book, but in this case, I am not sure. It is like the little bits of humanity shown where one or other concedes their role as the aggressor and returns to being the meek, that held it all together. "Happiness is like a cat. If you try to coax it or call it, it will avoid you. It will never come. But if you pay no attention to it and go about your business, you’ll find it rubbing up against your legs and jumping into your lap." This is a popular quote often misattributed to Simenon, however I think this quote is a perfect description of the calculated game being played out within this novella. I am very glad to have read this and am looking forward to reading more Simenon! Many thanks to Penguin Classics and to NetGalley for the opportunity to review this book.

A brilliantly written novel about the psychological warfare between a man and his wife, who have lived together silenty as they engage in their battle. Simenon never wastes a word and I realised how tense and unsettled I was by this little story. I can't wait to read more from this author. Highly recommend.

The Cat is a stand-alone novella by Belgian author, Georges Simenon. Now seventy-three, former builder, Emile Bouin has been married to seventy-one-year-old Marguerite Charmois for eight years. Hardly, a love match, it was more two lonely widowed people, settling for each other’s company. But four years ago, in a fit of jealousy, Emile plucked the tail feathers from Coco, Marguerite’s beloved parrot. When his cat, Joseph, died from ingesting rat poison, he blamed her, and they don’t speak. “Each felt like a victim and considered the other to be a monster.” “This had become their life. It was as natural, as necessary for them to send each other poisonous notes as it is for others to exchange civilities or kisses…. He was certain he hated her, even if he sometimes felt sorry for her.” The bio tells us that “Simenon strove on and off the page to understand, rather than to judge, the human condition in all its shades” and he certainly does that here. While the subject matter doesn’t make this a pleasant read, making it even less so is the fact that the publisher has chosen to use, of all the possible anti-theft devices conceivable, one of the most distracting, one which has removed every “fi”, “fl”, “ff”, and any combination of these. This means that multiple times on every page, the flow of the story is interrupted as the reader has to work out what the bizarre word is. For example: “He couldn’t say what he was ghting so ercely” and “The cannelloni were long and generously lled with stung” and “was cheaper to buy large logs than sawn ones that would t into the replace. He lled the basket” and “She made herself a coee– a decaeinated coee–“ Not the best Simenon reading experience from this reissue. This unbiased review is from an uncorrected proof copy provided by NetGalley and Penguin Classics.