REVIEW: All Cats are Introverts by Francesco Marciuliano
From the #1 New York Times bestselling author of I Could Pee on This, Francesco Marciuliano presents this humorous and all too relatable book written from the perspective of some pensive, sometimes intense, but nonetheless insightful pets.
Have you ever been labeled as “antisocial,” “shy,” or “lost in your own thoughts” because you don’t realize someone’s been calling your name 148 times? The cats understand. All Cats Are Introverts is a collection of self-reflective poetry from cats that clearly shows them to be the insightful, often alert, crowd-averse, personally engaging, probably napping-as-we-speak introverts of the animal kingdom. Enjoy this completely relatable and hilarious book, and perhaps you will soon see the cat—and even yourself—in a whole new light.
Dear Mr. Marcuiliano,
When I saw you had a new book out, I eagerly requested a copy because … cats. Cats are often misunderstood and thought to be standoffish or rude. Okay yeah some are but more often than not, they’re shy and introverted. I’m the same way so I can relate. It’s not that we don’t like (most) people but we need “me” time away from the bustle and crowd to recharge, relax, and rest. If a cat has to swipe your iphone and other crap off the table to snooze – well, you shouldn’t have left them there.
“ALL I NEED”
Are all on the floor
Now that I sprawled out
on the coffee table
Since all I need is me
The photos of cats engaged in the behavior that inspires the poems are fantastic. The poetry itself is more than just cats expressing themselves. It’s actually very good and amusing as well as illuminating to read.
“I HEAR YOU”
You don’t have
to tell me
Over and over again
Because I’m great at listening
Because I’m fantastic at paying attention
Because the ugly-ass Christmas
Is going down no matter what
So please stop with your constant criticism
And let me do my work.
From now on when I look at my cats – sitting, watching me – I will wonder, are they composing spare but elegant poems about me to express their thoughts, dreams, dismay, pissiness? Or are they merely annoyed at the birds mocking them from the other side of the clear barrier that thwarts their revenge? Or perhaps wondering if it’s worth moving the three inches to the left now that the sunspot has shifted? Maybe one day I’ll find a neatly written poem answering my questions and demanding different canned food. B