They know and cherish the routines, the afternoon nap with Mrs. Spudman, the evening snack, dinner in the kitchen, accompanying anyone taking a shower, and the morning walk, especially the morning walk. Every morning about half an hour after they’ve had a few bits of rice cakes and jerky treats we walk out to the mailbox and then leisurely ramble the perimeter of Spud Acres. They sniff curiously where the deer or fox might have been or where other dogs have left a message. Some days it’s just too cold, too hot, too wet, too windy, or maybe too inconvenient for that morning walk. On those days I want to just let them roam the backyard by themselves, do what they have to do, and let me know when they’re ready to come in.

They’ll have none of it. No matter how long they’ve been out back or how many times, Evie and Piper plant themselves by the front door, looking out the side window and staring at me relentlessly with that riveting look, a pleading look that asks if I’ve forgotten them, an intense look that instills such guilt that I almost always give in and nod resignedly as I watch their brooding sulks become the delirious dancing of unbridled ecstasy. Break the routine; you break a bond, a trust, a contract. It shouldn’t be done lightly.

The Cat Who Loved Potato Soup is a book about the bond between a cat and its human, about unspoken feelings, and about a routine that mustn’t be broken, one that can’t be broken without a devastating hurt or perceived betrayal. After the first reading I sat there stunned by the unexpected power and impact of this little book, and loved it just as much on the second and third readings. My utter enthrallment is not just because of the potato connection, or the touching animal theme, or the incredible artwork of Barry Root. It’s a combination of all those factors and so many other intangibles swirled together to create something magnificent, like a small slice of gourmet cheesecake, rich, sweet, utterly satisfying.

Spudopsis

A crusty old man lives alone with his cat in a rustic, isolated setting in rural Texas. He’d had many cats at one time and now was down to one “who he liked, but not so’s you’d notice.” The two are almost always together, the cat riding in the man’s pickup or on the bow of his boat “like a hood ornament” on his regular fishing trips.

Though the old man frequently gripes about his cat,( “You never killed nothing.”) he cares for the animal attentively by serving the cat its favorite, his home made potato soup. One winter day the man brings home an electric blanket for the cat, and when the cat doesn’t have it in her to leave the bed, he brings her a bowl of potato soup on a small tray.

The next morning the cat doesn’t get up to go fishing with the man. He looks in on the cat and then leaves without her. When the cat wakes up and finds the old man gone (a thick pea soup fog delays his return), she is confused because he’d never left without her. She waits until the following morning for the man and then disappears through the window always left cracked “into the flat yellowed field.” Days later the couple is reunited. What has happened in the interim borders the realm of fantasy, cements their bond, and deeply touches the man’s heart melting away his facade of indifference.

Bits and Pieces

The folksy, colloquial style of author Terry Farish and the impressive artistry of Barry Root blend and complement each other so well that the intertwining of their individual talents creates an unforgettable tale bordering on the poetic. At first I wasn’t sure I’d like the author’s approach, but the more one reads the more one becomes comfortable with the folksiness and realizes there could be no other way to write this, no other way to achieve the powerful, entrancing mood and realistic flavor.

Barry Root also illustrated another of my all time favorites, the fabulous “Brave Potatoes.” His artwork for The Cat Who Liked Potato Soup was done in watercolor and gouache. ( I learned by googling that gouache is a more opaque watercolor technique with a vehicle containing more pigment. Van Gogh used this technique.) Barry Root is an artist of the highest order; his artwork used for this book is worthy of an art gallery showing, of prominent display in one’s home. A pity that many of the young readers of this book can’t possibly appreciate his talent. Many of his illustrations are panoramic two pagers in soft amber and tints of orange. Even a cursory study of the old man’s Studebaker truck reveals the artist’s attention to detail.

There are many fine-tuned details within to rivet one’s attention: the claw foot bathtub planter by the porch, the open toilet abutting the mailbox post for junk mail, and the nostalgic glass containers of catsup and mustard on the 50’s style oval, Formica table with chrome legs and trim. The cat and the man, like the text, are wonderfully understated yet so incredibly real.

After the first couple pages a reader may wonder why the Spudman raved about such an ordinary book. Be patient, give the story time to unfold its charm, and then bask in its warmth.

Some sites recommend this book for ages four to eight, others for grades 1-3. I shared this book at work with students aged 5-8. All seemed to enjoy the premise of the story. All seemed to like the illustrations. Yet I think middle and upper elementary readers can more fully appreciate the depth and impact of this beautiful, endearing story. The Cat Who Liked Potato Soup is a book worth seeking, a book worth reading, a book one must share, and a destination one will surely revisit. It’s a feel good, tonic for the soul kind of book.


40 pages
10.5 by 10 inches approximate dimensions




Recommended: Yes