I had planned to skip Rebecca West’s “Why My Mother Was Frightened of Cats.” Essays about mothers often drift toward sentimentality; combined with cats, the prospect seemed unpromising.
The intelligence and humour of the preceding essays in *The Essential Rebecca West* carried me forward. West writes: “He [Lord Roberts] would turn and run if a cat walked towards him on the parade-ground; and I quite realised that if Lord Roberts could not control this terror my mother could not be expected to do better. So there was no ill-feeling between us.”
The essay resists mawkishness entirely. West treats childhood fear and adult affection with clarity, refusing to simplify or sentimentalise. It is rare to encounter such a lightness of touch on subjects usually treated heavily.
I would not have arrived at West without the influence of Geoff Dyer, whose passing mentions of her sharpened my curiosity, nor without the quiet insistence of other readers I trust. Some writers seem to wait until the reader is ready
>I know what you're saying. I too was surprised to not only finish but very much enjoy this essay. Also, the opening one about Chaplin and Pirandello, with the "Your horse is pregnant" scene? Priceless!
>I liked even more than West only referred to Chaplin as The Film Star. Except for the compiler's footnote, that detail would be lost to us.