I grew up with James Bond films as my sole reference for the spy genre, and I considered him a cartoonish one at that, since he became the stuff of parody by the time the ’80s came along. It wouldn’t be until I was all grownup when I learned more of the history of the genre. And Ed Brubaker’s and Steve Epting’s Velvet, now compiled in a delicious deluxe hardcover, reads like a love letter to the spy genre’s golden era.
If you live with a cat, you live with a natural born killer. Some prey on dangling bits of string, others go after bigger game. And if they like you, they’ll leave you one of their kills as a little gift. In Stephen Volk’s newest novella, it’s one of these little gifts from a family cat that sends the man of the house, our narrator, down a dark winding memory of an encounter with an alluring woman that shook him from his mundane moorings.