by Clea Simon.

Poisoned Pen Press. 227 pages. $24.95.

 I am a librarian, but unlike many of my colleagues, I am not a “cat-lover.” It was therefore with some trepidation that I picked up Clea Simon’s new mystery with the cutesy title, Cattery Row — the second in a series featuring her autobiographical character, Theda Krakow. The author and her character are both journalists, feminists, music critics, and cat lovers; they each have a cat with the same name: Musetta (perhaps Simon’s feminine/feline Muse?). If you are groaning now, wait until you read the book.

In Cattery Row we are treated to virtually every moment of every day inside the head of the rather mundane Theda, who is wishy-washy about her current boyfriend — a warm, enlightened, and supportive homicide cop — and her ex-boyfriend, a bad-boy fellow music critic who is back in town after having left her high and dry two years before. Theda’s friends are Bunny (a Wiccan who has “gone suburban” by hand-fasting to her life partner) and Violet, who runs a cat shelter by day and is a rock musician by night.

The few nice moments in the book are eclipsed by mediocre dialogue and action throughout. The mystery is, who is stealing pedigreed show kittens? I found that I didn’t really care who had stolen them or for what purpose, and I blame the writing, not my own lack of feeling for felines. A well-written story would make me care.

Simon, a former editor of the Providence Phoenix, has written three nonfiction books, including one entitled The Feline Mystique: On the Mysterious Connection between Women and Cats (2003). According to her website, her works focus on “relationships, feminism, and psychological issues.” This is also true of her fiction, unfortunately, which would be better served if she focused on character, plot, and the economical use of language. A facility for criticism and analysis does not necessarily translate well into writing good fiction — in fact, it is often a detriment.

Mystery novels using a specific hook or gimmick can be done well — Dick Francis (horses), John Grisham (lawyers), Rita Mae Brown (cats), and even John Dunning (rare books) are good examples. One expects that the author will teach you something about his or her passion, and make you appreciate whatever it is more than you had before. In this case, Simon is obviously preaching to the converted, and makes no effort to talk to the rest of us. Feminist cat-lovers may like this book, but it will disappoint those who are looking for a good mystery.