Mysteries (Caturday Questions)

It was just one of those mysteries. A classic whodunit. Human-Mom emerged from the bedroom to find what appeared to be a cat-turd on the floor.

She rounded up the usual suspects. But who could have been responsible?

Well, it depends what kind of mystery you’re writing.

Big Cat, Little Cat

We were the Mysteries All Along, Sophocles

In the original mystery, Oedipus Tyrranos by Sophocles, we would find out that Human-Mom had secret cat ancestry. It was Human-Mom herself who laid the fateful cat-turd! So the search for the truth was actually the search for the true self all along!

It’s a great twist. And it’s sadly true that the investigators should point the finger at themselves far more often than they end up doing.

But for better or worse, most mysteries are not that self-aware. Nor that concerned with the systemic issues that lead to crime in the first place. Or if they are, it’s just to add some sympathetic color to the perpetrator’s character.

Human Mysteries, Courtesy of Agatha Christie

More likely would be the following scenario: Human-Mom would check that the doors and windows were closed. Thus it could only have been one of her three cats.

The least likely candidate would be Little Cat who, in seventeen years, has run away a few times but has never laid a turd on the floor. But what if… what if something broke him? What if he had an experience that changed how he thought about the matter? What if the unlikeliest candidate became the likeliest, with no-one around him the wiser?

With the doors and windows closed, it had to be one of them. Or did it? What if it was all three?

Unexpected, Slightly Racist Mysteries, Courtesy of Arthur Conan Doyle

When you’ve eliminated every impossibility, what remains, however improbable, must be a secret Mormon cat-turd cult from America.

Or a black cat frightening rich lordlings (again, from America) away from the beautiful but forbidding moors of Cornwall (or possibly Caterwaul).

Or a beautiful and sophisticated short haired Persian, known the world over for her melodious yowling, who, to ensure her safety, keeps a compromising photo of the Duke of Ruritania laying that cat turd. Don’t try to steal it from her, though. She just wants to be left in peace. And she has copies.

As long as we’re clear that the troublemaker came from OUTSIDE of England. Or was of low birth, and picked up bad habits while serving in Lucknow.

Mysteries: Have it your Way

Part of why mysteries are fun is that they give you a limited field. Like a walled garden. Sophocles notwithstanding, we are not trying to solve the mysteries of life, the universe, and everything. We’re just trying to figure out who stole a necklace. Or killed Mrs. Blivensby. Or laid a cat-deuce on the livingroom rug.

In a way, mysteries are the sinkful of dishes of literature. Sometimes life just hurts. You can’t understand why someone you loved is never coming back. Or why a part of your body is hurting and won’t stop. Or why you can’t get respect at work.

Some days, the larger mysteries are best left unexplored. But a sinkful of dishes? You just need to turn on your favorite audiobook and stand there until they’re done. And sometimes we need that. We need that reminder that not everything is beyond our control. (Yes I’m aware that some people look at a sinkful of dishes with dread. That used to be me. Just substitute your own doable task in its place).

So which are your favorite mysteries? Or your favorite type of mystery? Maybe you like something a bit more modern? A bit more noir-ish? Or maybe you prefer a romance novel. A spy-thriller. A space opera.

Description

2 cats are sitting on a cushion, a large orange and a small grey. The orange, smiling down at the grey, says: “Human mom is in a bad mood today.

The grey says: “Yeah. someone’s been stealing from her plate when she gets up to use the bathroom.”

The orange chuckles: “Wipe the smirk off your face. And the crumbs.”