'One of the greatest European prose writers' Philip Roth In the
autumn of 1965, Bohumil Hrabal bought a weekend cottage in the
countryside east of Prague. There, until his death, he tended to an
ever-growing, unruly community of cats. This is his confessional,
tender and shocking meditation on the joys and torments of his life
with them; how he became increasingly overwhelmed by the demands of
the things he loved, even to the brink of madness. 'Dark and
strange ... It begins with warmth and fluffiness, but soon descends
into Dostoevskian horror' Daily Telegraph 'The Czech master exposed
the animal within us' New Yorker
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