Two impressions I repeatedly had throughout Eye of Cat: first, that it reminded me of John Dos Passos’ The Big Money. And the more I think about it, the more I think this was deliberate. OK, I just looked up the U.S.A Trilogy in the Wikipedia and conclude that Zelazny must be deliberately mimicking it — there are four prose styles Dos Passos uses: narrative chapters that progress the story, “camera eye” interludes that are stream-of-conscious, newsreels that give clips of headlines or radio snippets, and biographies of famous people. Zelazny has all four of those in this book, though the biographies are of the book’s own characters.
Second — and this leads from that — Roger Zelazny is the most versatile writer I’ve ever read. This may be because I don’t necessarily read lots of books by one author, or because he is actually surprisingly versatile. He is the only author I know of who set out so deliberately to develop variety throughout his career. He began writing short stories and set out to lengthen his prose as he grew more skilled, and wrote on a variety of themes and in a wide range of styles just to see if he could.
Honestly, I love Roger Zelazny so much because this is the author I would’ve been if I’d ever become one. I can see where we think in the same lines, in the same patterns. He plots the way I would plot, and I love him for writing in an era where attention-deficit masses would not condemn, judge, and pass him by for spending huge swaths of time on intricate descriptions.
Okay, enough about Roge. On to the book. All of that being said, I didn’t particularly like this book. Eye of Cat is written in a style that defies fast reading, and I just get distracted while reading slow, so I was bored for a lot of it. It is set in an indeterminate but certainly distant-ish future, taking for granted that the reader has familiarity with the decade and technology of whenever and wherever it is. And it is about a hunt.
It is about William Blackhorse Singer, the last real Navajo, the last Indian connected with the past and the old ways, and Cat, a highly intelligent predatory and telepathic metamorph who is also the last of his kind. Billy Singer made a name for himself once hunting and catching exotic and dangerous creatures from all over the galaxy, and Cat — not known to be intelligent at the time — was one of his acquisitions for the exomorph zoo in San Diego. Over the course of 50 years, Cat has done nothing but plan how he will destroy the man who caught him. And then Billy comes to him for help.
An assassination plot is no more than the mere mechanism to get to the focus of the book, where Singer frees Cat for his help and agrees in exchange to be killed by him. The story blends Navajo myth and cosmology with mystical realism and fantasy, the past with the present, Cat with coyote. As Singer tries to lose the predator on his trail — a predator who insists Singer actually wishes to be caught — he also tries to find himself and face his past and his demons. There, in the shadows and treachery of Canyon de Chelly, Singer faces off with Cat and against his chindi (his deathwish) in a lyrical hunt that evokes much ancient American imagery and folklore.
As far as craft is concerned, it is an excellent book. And I did come up with a new rule that whenever I read Zelazny, when I finish the last page, I have to go back and re-read the first chapter because he is so cyclical. I did it with this one half by accident because I didn’t really think I’d caught enough, and the references that suddenly made sense with the rest of the book just made it dazzling.