Darconville's Cat

There are many reviews online for this novel, and they’re all true. All of them! The book is so much that one can say one thousand and one things about it and be correct. A masterpiece, a bloated wreck, amazing, insufferable, a meditation on revenge/paradoxes/jealousy, etc. I can only add my personal reading experience. Certainly your mileage will vary.



The erudition and vocabulary must be mentioned, because it is likely far beyond anything you have seen in a modern novel. At first it excited me, until I realized that Theroux doesn't use these elements to better the novel per se—he flings them at you, relentlessly, until you don't really care to look things up anymore. The novel is a unique mashup of structures and styles, nodding to authors both recent and thousands of years old. Familiarity with Latin and Greek roots will serve you well, though mostly the strange words are understandable in context.

He mocks the American South, Protestants, college students, college faculty...it's like being near a wildly funny person at a party, whom you eventually have to shy away from, because you realize that they're not just being silly—they really are full of anger, and hate most everyone and everything. I started to get a John Cleese-after-three-gimlets vibe. The views are reflected somewhat in the author’s own statements. In recent interviews, Theroux has denounced all feminist writing, modern words like "Twitter" or phrases like "there you go," and the current level of “political correctness.” Grumpy, acerbic, superior—yeah, you’re funny, but. Do we get anywhere just by hating everything?

It's clear from reading interviews that Theroux is rather complicated–very progressive on many issues, musty on many others. I eventually found trying to figure him out tiresome and imagine he is as complicated as this book. He is Catholic, and speaks often of grace, but I see a lot of church and little Christ in his statements. 

From a 2013 interview:



[interviewer] The self that emerges from your writings is, in many ways, an anachronistic one, even a reactionary one: devoutly Catholic, decidedly misogynistic if not misanthropic, elitist if not aristocratic, and highly opinionated. Would you say this is a fair deduction?

[Theroux]: […] “no man ever rose to any degree of perfection but through obstinacy and an inveterate resolution against the stream of mankind.” 



Well…no thanks.

I also found the many long sections of philosophizing rather dry. Theroux has his characters argue points by quoting hundreds (thousands?) of books, historical figures, etc. But it's all just extremely elaborate sandcastle building. St. John of Chrysotomato replied to Katerina the Darkest that Lord Tennyvinne believed Abu Salaami to be incorrect about the Spirits of Hate which enter a soul through the prayers of...and on and on. In a recent interview, Theroux has said that he is feeling that the world of the mind is becoming more real or satisfying to him than actual human interactions. Much in these sections feels like Theroux is creating these castles for himself to reside in, actually doing his living by researching and writing all of it, rather than working toward a Truth.

The love story that runs through the book is quite compelling and believable.

I have typed a lot because this book and author deserve it. A wild experience! Marvel you must; enjoy if you can. Or just drive on by.