Animals Turn Sleuths, Take on Voice of Their Own in ‘Outfoxed’

I realize that I’m not in a position of strength here, having written a book about Clara, my manipulative pug dog. But I learned there is a slender line between observing an animal’s behavior and what a New York editor I know refers to as “twee.” The way she explained it, “twee”--defined as “mimicking a child’s pronunciation of ‘sweet’ “--is a piece of writing that is too cute or a gimmick too treacly for the average reader’s palate.

In her latest novel, “Outfoxed” (Ballantine, $24, 409 pages), author Rita Mae Brown (who already collaborates on the bestselling Mrs. Murphy series with her tiger cat, Sneaky Pie) gives voice to more woodland creatures than Walt Disney. Set in a small town in the Virginia Blue Ridge Mountains, the meticulously structured work could be a sociology thesis on the rarefied world of the fox hunt.

Seventy-something Jane Arnold, known as “Sister Jane,” is master of the Jefferson Hunt Club. “She’d broken a few bones over the years, felt the arthritis, but a life of hard physical labor kept her young.” Lucky thing, because what with walking the hounds, cleaning tack, frying eggs for her pets and keeping the peace among the angst-ridden members of the club, she has her hands full.

Jane decides to appoint a joint master. Alas, she doesn’t have a good candidate; just two adversaries who each possess half the skills and detest each other: Crawford Howard, a rich Yankee arriviste who could use a Velcro saddle, and Fontaine Buruss, a philandering good old boy who has run through most of his fortune. When one is murdered during Opening Hunt, Jane feels compelled to trap his killer.

Intriguing are the arcane details of etiquette (relax, they don’t kill the fox) and wardrobe. Fans of fast-paced plots, beware, the murderer doesn’t strike for hundreds of pages but is cleverly snared. I could tolerate the running house-pet commentary and maybe even the chattering vixens--but when the animals began teaming up to find clues it made me homicidal. Worse, just when I got involved with a human character, the author cut to an owl’s soliloquy or a fox and hound therapy session.

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By contrast, in “The Cat Who Robbed a Bank” (G.P. Putnam’s Sons, $23.95, 256 pages), author Lilian Jackson Braun keeps both paws planted on the side of charming. The cat in question, a telepathic Siamese named Koko (and his dimmer feline cohort Yum Yum), belongs to billionaire columnist Jim Qwilleran, the most gallant man about town since Maurice Chevalier in “Gigi.” Lest you think Braun’s imagination has run amok, Qwilleran inherited his fortune from his mother’s friend; he didn’t earn it with his “Qwill Pen” column in the Moose County Something.

Braun’s mysteries are unabashedly short on suspense, action or a dramatic denouement. But the characters are engaging. As for the cat, Koko doesn’t speak, though he yowls at opportune moments and drops hints such as wrapping a room in paper towels at the same time hotel towels disappear.

Maybe I should send my pug to Moose County for some tips.

The Times reviews mysteries every other week. Next week: Rochelle O’Gorman on audio books.

For more reviews, read Book Review

* This Sunday: Benjamin Schwarz on “Without Sanctuary,” a collection of photographs of lynchings throughout America; David Rieff on the death penalty; Jaroslaw Anders on Polish poster art and the American western; Neal Ascherson on “The Scottish Nation: A History”; plus children’s books.