I'm usually the sentimental, gushy cat memoir type. This is a straightforward, coming-of-age story about a boy and his pet cat set in late 1950's New York. The book reads like a love letter to the city, as well as an ode to a bygone era- complete with terms like golly, stickball, being sore at someone, and 30 cent coke mentions. The illustrations are delightful, and the language makes you long for black and white TV and movies. Also, it's one more novel about cats that confirms their general air of condescension towards us. However, we humans keep on loving them just the same, quirks and all (well, most of us:-).
Again, this book is definitely a snapshot of a time period. It's so dated that little can be found of current relevance. It's still enjoyable, but the nostalgia held most of the charm. If you're interested in traveling back in time for a charming, quiet story about the everyday life of a teenager, I think this would suffice. Not quite as memorable as I'd hoped, but it was a quick, easy pick during a reading slump.
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