Book Review: The Dead Cat Tail Assassins

Amazon Cover

The Dead Cat Tail Assassins by P. Djeli Clark

BOOK BLURB ON AMAZON

The Dead Cat Tail Assassins are not cats.
Nor do they have tails.
But they are most assuredly dead.

Nebula and Alex Award winner P. Djèlí Clark introduces a brand-new world and a fantastical city full of gods and assassins.

An NPR “Books We Love” choice of 2024, Indie Next Pick, LibraryReads Top Ten Selection, Southern Independent Booksellers Alliance Selection, and Best-Of Book according to BookRiot, and ALA/YALSA Alex Award winner

Eveen the Eviscerator is skilled, discreet, professional, and here for your most pressing needs in the ancient city of Tal Abisi. Her guild is strong, her blades are sharp, and her rules are simple. Those sworn to the Matron of Assassins―resurrected, deadly, wiped of their memories―have only three unbreakable vows.

First, the contract must be just. That’s above Eveen’s pay grade.

Second, even the most powerful assassin may only kill the contracted. Eveen’s a professional. She’s never missed her mark.

The third and the simplest: once you accept a job, you must carry it out. And if you stray? A final death would be a mercy. When the Festival of the Clockwork King turns the city upside down, Eveen’s newest mission brings her face-to-face with a past she isn’t supposed to remember and a vow she can’t forget.

 

MY REVIEW

Ready for a sword and sorcery book about undead assassins? This character-driven, world-building delight is a gem of action adventure.

The Dead Cat Tail Assassins always complete their contract. They are raised by priests as undead without memory, family, or past. Eveen is one of their best. But her target does the impossible. The blue loc’ed 19 year old pulls a memory. Now in a city in the midst of a festival, they have until dawn to figure out the mystery of the memory, or the contract will bring death to both.

The festival and the city is Shimmering in details. Every character is rich with characteristics bringing them alive (even when they are undead). Five out of five for this book.

Read through the local library (ebook) system. Support your local libraries.

[Spoiler-ish Developmental editing comment: Chef’s kiss to the midpoint. A good story has a false path to success – usually dependent on the professional skills and high expertise of the main character – they are close to success and things get dashed to bits. All planning destroyed. Nothing is salvageable. They must completely change their path and go in a direction previously untenable. This novella is a masterpiece for this particular story structure.]

Flash: Magical Menace Mode Part Two – Special Meeting


ID 235386222 | Pink Wand © Chernetskaya | Dreamstime.com

Jennie shifted her bag to quickly unbuckle the shoulder strap and hop out of the car as soon as they got to Bill’s house; her dad needed to get to the Sunday evening service. “When will you need pick-up?” he asked as they pulled along the curb.

“Don’t worry about that,” she said, moving like Houdini to extract from the sedan to escape the litany of questions she already had survived—who will be there, is a parent going to be there, what are you planning on doing. “I’ll get Chris to drive me home.”

“I don’t know. It’s February and ice can be tricky, especially for new drivers.”

Stepping out of the car, shouldering her bag, she held the door open a moment to point at the driveway, “No worries, that is the Escalade in the drive, looks like they just arrived, and he has one of the chauffeurs with him.”

“Ah, I see. Robbie. Okay then. Curfew is eleven; tonight is a school night.”

“Daddddd—”

“Do you want it to be the normal nine?”

“Thanks, Dad. I love you lots.” Jennie shoved the door shut and rushed away. Catching up with Chris and his driver as Mrs. Dinniman opened the front door. “Hey Mrs. D! Is Bill upstairs?” Jennie asked as Bill’s mom stepmom stepped aside to let the three of them in and started walking to the staircase.

“Yes, he is. Meghan is already up there. Remember, the door stays open.”

Jennie bounded up the stairs, Chris saying a quick “Mrs. D” before taking them two at a time with his long legs.

The woman welcomed the other adult behind them. “Hello Robert, I was about to put on a kettle for some tea and was planning on catching some Antique Roadshow or CSI. Bill already absconded with the pie, but he left two pieces behind…”

The adult voices faded behind the teenagers as they turned down the “L” shaped hall of the second story. Bill’s bedroom door was open on the left side. Inside, Meghan had shoved piles to the side on Bill’s desk to work on her advanced chemistry class. Bill laid on his stomach on his bed working on the English Shakespeare assignment, swiping through on his tablet. When the other two of the newspaper crew arrived, Bill swung up to armgrip Chris in welcome. They pounded each other’s backs.

Bill and Jennie exchanged awkward glances before a microhug. Jennie continued to walk in to drop her bag beside the chair Meghan was in, hugged Meghan, and then dropped down beside the bag in her normal spot when they met at Bill’s place. Chris and Meghan did a finger wave at each other, before Chris and Bill belly flopped onto the bed, which groaned under their combined weight.

Both of the boys had been shooting up faster than they had been putting on muscle, but Bill was five nine, and Chris passed six foot at the start of Junior year. His father had been a power forward in the NBA, and he still stood at six nine. Chris took after him, even playing the same position in the Washington Wigwams, and though he looked completely stretched out, every last bone was covered in dense lean muscle making him a deadly power forward with the scholarship to his father’s alma mater already sewn up while he was still a Junior.

Meghan rotated the desk chair to face the room. “Alright, what is the big secret that made you drag me out on the one night I had off this week?” She stared at Chris, who was usually the leader of the group.

“Not me this time.” He held up his hands in denial. “Bill said I had to be here. I’m just glad because it gets me an extra day to see if this tooth will heal. My parents are going to kill me when they found out I had another tooth knocked loose on the paint.”

“It’s still loose?” Jennie asked. He had called her last night after he had gotten home from the away game since she was the night owl of the friend group.

“Wiggling like a wigwam.”

“Dude, you got to stop throwing elbows with people.” Bill said beside him.

“Not my fault this time. The Roosters came to Play and Play Hard with home field advantage after the trouncing we gave them last time, and Damien is a monster of a Senior. I think he had gotten held back a year at some point.” Chris touched his front tooth gingerly before smiling. “We still beat them by twenty points.”

“So if not you, then who?” Meghan refocused them.

Jennie raised her hand slowly. “That would be me…mostly…and Bill…kind-of.”

“And why couldn’t this a Discord?”

“Bill, could you…”

“Gotcha.” The seventeen-year-old grabbed one of his pillows and tossed it at the open door, closing it.

Jennie inhaled deeply before putting her backpack into her lap and unzipping the top. “Okay, first off this is yours…” she passed a red-banded wad of one hundred five dollar bills up to where Meghan sat, “and this one is yours.” Jennie tossed another wad to where Chris lay on the bed.

“Jennie…this is.” Meghan fanned the money confirming everything within was fivers. “What is this? Did you rob a bank?”

Chris handled his wad, lifting it up and down with a consideration mask on his face before setting it aside on the bed.  He had a game face firmly in place.

“No. Um.” Jennie looked up at Meghan. “I don’t think so?”

Bill blurted out. “She waved her magic wand and the money appeared.”

“She what now?” “The fuck?”

Jennie pulled out the ostentatious pink plastic wand they had given her at the Christmas party from her backpack and shook it a little. “Bill did a big wish and I waved my magic wand and money appeared.” She nodded to the two wads she had just given out. “There were four piles. Since his wish was for just $500, we figured it was one for each of us. It happened Thursday in the newsroom.”

“You’re kidding,” said Chris after he and Meghan stared at them for a long moment.

“You’re not kidding.” Meghan said seconds later.

“Nope.” “No cap.” “Jinx.”

Silence followed until Bill broke it with, “So….now can we try for enough money to get me a car?”

“No.” Jennie said sharply.

“Hell, no.” said Chris. “Nerd…and nerdettes…if you even need money, let me know. I got you.”

“What is your allowance anyway?” Jennie asked. The group didn’t talk much about Chris’ situation. His dad left the NBA after his mother had a stroke to take over the family pie-making business, which was already two manufacturing bakeries delivering to supermarkets throughout the state. Under his direction, it had expanded to cover four states and was moving to open facilities in a fifth state this summer. The multi-million-dollar company never had taken the stock route to raise capital; the family still owned everything personally. But they worked and worked hard at it, and Chris’ dad insisted he attend public school and made sure the local public school had been worth attending.

“It got changed to a paycheck with I started working after turning sixteen.”

“Your dodging, Stretch.” Meghan complained.

“Forty-three thousand a year.”

“43!” “Your fucking kidding!” “Wow, that is…” The rest of the group sputtered.

“No way that is a part-time salary on the books.” Jennie’s eyes narrowed; she shook the wand at him, enjoying the sparkle and the whoosh of the tinsel tassel.

“I got a bonus for that project we did in seventh grade, encouraging one of the bakeries to go all solar. Remember, we got them to cover the roof.”

“Those big flat manufacturing roofs just beg for solar panels.” Meghan muttered.

“Right, and we got the parking lot covered too since Jennie was going hard in her green phase.” Chris rolled to sit up. “Anyway, you remember the expectation that the break-even would be about five years, if ever? They were worried about maintenance. It was three because they put in the data center in the next county over and drove up everyone’s water and electrical as a result. Even with adjusting for maintenance and repairs, I get ten percent of the savings for the bonus idea as part of my pay because of the ‘We Want Your Ideas’ program to encourage line workers. The bonus only applies to the first five years, so it wasn’t suppose to be anything, but it turned into a big deal with the data center, so I got everything bundled once I turned sixteen in March spread out over my first year’s salary.”

He leaned forward on his knees. “Guys, you were part of the presentation and the research and all of that. You helped make it happen. I was going to wait until summer, but each of you was going to get a quarter of the bonus. Only fair.”

Jennie pulled her legs against her body. “How much?” she whispered.

“Well, after taxes, me and Mr. Pierce in accounting worked it out to be a little under four thousand each.” Chris shrugged. “And it may be more. My job this summer is to implement it for every plant that is cost effective. Right now, I’m working with the planners for the North location to have it all built-in. I was hoping to see if any of you guys would be available to be my assistants come summer. I was still working things out with HR; they don’t want to finalize anything until you are all over seventeen. The laws for sixteen years old make them twitchy.”

“I’m in.” Bill stated immediately.

Laying her head on her knees, Jennie said quietly. “I could…yeah. Not doing fast food again would be nice.”

“I’m already committed to early-in.” Meghan reported. “I’ll be leaving on June 30th.”

Jennie snapped her head around. “You did not sit on telling us that.”

“I did. Because I knew you would be like this.”

Bill held up his hand. “I want it known I do not have any secrets.”

“Other than being bi?” Jennie snapped.

“Hardly a secret.”

Chris held up the bundled cash wad of $500. “I don’t need this and some of you do, why don’t you—”

“Can’t.” Jennie jumped in. “I…it has to go to you. Figure out a charity or something. It…” her eyes unfocused as she tried to figure out what she was feeling, “…if you don’t want it, it has to go to someone with a true need that you…personally…want to help. An individual.” Her eyes cleared as she looked around the room. “That seems to be part of the rules. Small, individual, needs.”

“Oooookay, witchy woman.” Chris got off the bed to put the money into his backpack. “I’ll figure out someone that meets that requirement. I usually donate to the animal shelter and to that eco-group you had hooked me up with, but I don’t think those meet the requirements.” He tucked the money away, then around to sit on the floor opposite Jennie, stretching out his long legs. “Meghan, call us to order.”

“The special meeting of news nerds is called to order at…” Meghan tapped her tablet awake, “…eight thirty-four, Chris Fletcher presiding, Meghan Gomez secretary, Jennie Williams vice president, and Bill Dinniman hosting.”

“Jennie, you called the special meeting.” Chris prompted.

“Well, newflash. I may have a magic wand.” Jennie unfurled her legs and waved the wand again.

“Are you sure?” Meghan asked.

Jennie set the wand between her and Chris. “Not at all. We only have two eye witnesses, and one of them had their eyes closed at the moment the money allegedly materialized. No one else was in the room. But circumstantial evidence points to something unusual and outside the normal laws of physics occurring. I have a personal bias toward magic, so my judgement might be compromised.”

Meghan, Jennie, and Chris looked at Bill. “I was in the room. We were talking about the weekend, I think, and I needed about five hundred dollars for a fundraiser so I could bow out of that, which would free me up to attend the Model United Nations practice. We joked about making the money appear and Jennie, the witch in question, asked me to close my eyes and wish real hard, which I did. The money was for Pierce’s Eagle Scout and after all he had done for me to get mine, I didn’t want to let him down, but Carrie Jones and Eve Rodsky both wanted extra work with MUN and I am trying to figure out which to take to prom and I had to be there too. It was tough and I wished super hard. When I opened my eyes, the money, wrapped in four groups of $500 was on the floor. I don’t believe I was the cause. I have wished numerous times for money and things, and you all know how much I want my own car, and nothing along these lines have ever happened. Evidence would indicate the story lies in a different direction.”

He smirked at everyone. “And, yes, I realize the irony of the photographer having his eyes closed during something this big, but what are you going to do?”

“Jennie,” Chris looked across at her, “Bill here has a reasonable rebuttal against him being the cause of this…”

“Disruption of reality.” Meghan provided.

“Thank you. Disruption of reality. What other things can you report since his eyes were closed.”

“Well, I had the wand in my hand. I had been enjoying listened to the tassel of tinsel whoosh.” She picked up the wand to demonstrate, with a shake. “Once Bill had his eyes closed I said ‘Abracadabra’”—Meghan made a sound, interrupting Jennie, but then said quietly “sorry, continue”—“right, and I circled it around, the floor like this and flicked it.” Jennie demonstrated the movement but nothing happened. “Then there was money.”

“Right,” Chris said. “Meghan, you had something?”

“I was watching the voice to text writing things out and saw the mention of a ‘tassel of tinsel.’” Meghan gestured to the wand. “There isn’t a tassel.”

“Sure there is.” Jennie asserted, waving the wand again, watching the shimmer on the tassel wrapped just below the wand foiled headpiece.

“No,” Chris said gentle, “there is no tassel.”

Jennie looked up at Bill and he answered, “No tassel that I can see.”

“But it is right here!”

“Eyewitness account are the most problematic.” Meghan assured Jennie.

Bill interjected. “But, if it is Magic, for real, maybe she can see something we can’t.”

Chris nodded. “Jennie, describe the wand to us in detail.”

“No, wait,” Meghan said, “let’s all draw the wand as we see it before we get influenced by what she is seeing.”

“Do you have crayons to draw this princess perversion?” Jennie waved her wand again.

“Do I got crayons?” Bill snorted before hopping off his bed and going to his art closet. “Do you want crayons, magic markers, colored pencils, or a camera?”

“No camera,” Meghan said. “We had pictures at Christmas and nothing looked wrong there, so the photo lies. Actually Bill, can you pass a photo around of Jennie with the wand?”

“Sure, let me boot up the monster. I downloaded it from my phone ages ago.” Bill moved to sit in Meghan’s lap, but she hopped out of the way and joined the other two on the floor.

While everything was coming online on his heavily graphics-oriented computer, Meghan stood back up and went to the art closet and pulled out paper for each person. Jennie asked for pencils and Chris for markers. They started drawing while Bill waited to open his computer, get the software up, and searched the files for the Christmas party with the whole high school newspaper and their advisor. “Here is Jennie with her award and gift. Wizard-in-chief.”

“Jennie, do you see a tassel?” Meghan asked.

“Yes.”

“Anyone else, does it look different on the screen than on the floor here?”

Everyone reported no difference.

“Okay, it is nine-thirty. Draw for another ten minutes.” Chris ordered before asking, “Anyone have a ten curfew tonight?”

“I got to kick everyone out at ten-thirty.” Bill said as he started to draw the picture on his screen using his graphics software.”

“I’m good until eleven if you can drive me home, Chris.” Jennie said from where she was curled up against one of Bill’s bookcases drawing.

“I got you covered.” Chris assured her. “How about you Meghan?”

“I can text Mom and say you will drop me off between ten-thirty and eleven.”

“Okay, I such at drawing, this is as good as it gets.” He laid his drawing facedown, then stood up. “I’ll let Mr. Blue know the plan and be right back.”

(words 2,813, first published 2/1/2026)

Magical Menace Mode Series

  1. Magical Menace Mode (1/25/2026)
  2. Magical Menace Mode Part 2: Special Meeting (2/1/2026)

Thought Experiment: A Million Doesn’t Go Far

Photo by Jakub Żerdzicki on Unsplash

If you have been around my blog any length of time, you know that every now and again, I do thought experiments. Recently I imagined an ordinary individual winning a million dollars and them thinking all their problems are solved. First things first, get the house of their dreams. Sure it is just an average house, but they are an average American, at last. How much does a house actually cost? This is the results of the experiment:

Putting housing costs into prospective. Say you have worked hard your whole life in retail and food service as a single person, and someone gave you a lottery ticket as a tip (on top of the normal 20%, tip, so they were not a total jerk).

Amazingly, you won a million dollars!!! Now you finally are going to own your own home. You are going to buy a “typical” middle class house – $410,000 (the medium cost of buying a house in the US the second quarter of 2025). Brand new!!! No, run down rental for you at last.

From the $1 million, all the taxes need to be paid first, then the house can be bought with the rest. So many plans to furnish the home of your dreams! A great mattress, room for a guest. All so wonderful. The lottery ticket was a tip – so you owe social security, medicare, federal and state (New Jersey – 10%) taxes on it. Obviously nothing was withheld on your paycheck. Your boss doesn’t even know you won yet; you will quit once you close on the house and see how much you have leftover. (The city and county you live in don’t have income taxes, so yay!)

The lottery office helps you calculate and withhold the taxes, and gives you a check for the balance. They are being so helpful.

Fed tax $328,187.75; FICA tax $153,000; State tax $100,000. Take home on the million dollar win after taxes: $418,812.25

Wait … what?

Well, that is more than enough to close on the house at least. The selling agent is being super helpful; you don’t even need your own agent.

Closing costs for a home runs between 2% and 5% if buying – let’s say since you are buying this for cash, it is only 2% for the closing costs. Costs added to the home sale: $8,200.

Well … okay. Everyone says the closing costs are amazingly cheap.

After winning a million dollars, to get in a typical middle-class house, you will have $612.25 left in your pocket. Time to start saving for property tax and insurance – in your case, they are going to be about the same annual cost: $4,100 or $8,200 for both. And you have no leftover money. Yeah, you are not paying a mortgage or rent anymore, but you are paying all utilities, the property tax, and the insurance. Not including house upkeep. You can’t quit your day job; the different between rent and home ownership costs is barely break even. You guess the mattress you have is enough, and you can wait on getting the house furnished.

The core of this thought experiment: winning a million dollars is only enough to pay for typical house in the United States (as of 2025 second quarter) … just barely. $612.25 leftover

Flash: Magic Menace Mode

ID 236270372 | Pink Wand © Chernetskaya | Dreamstime.com 

“Magic Menace Mode activated!” I whispered with force.

“What are you doing Jennie?” Deborah who sits in the seat next to me asked.

My palms tingled from holding my fists tightly. “Shh. I just want out of here,” I said as I opened them up and shook them out.

“Don’t we all?” Deborah used her stylist to scratch down the next day’s reading assignment, or to doodle. It really didn’t really matter which.

The class was bullshit, put together by the overlords of the odious. Whitewashed lies unusable in the futurescape of the blinking minutes of mankind. History, math, English, science. None of it matters when computers will read, think, and create for us. Even voting isn’t going to be a thing much longer. Everyone knew that.

But if Magic worked, the rules would change.  Imagine everyone with purple skin. Try to pick out people-of-color for target practice when colors vary for lilac to royal! Would light or dark became the new focus?

I recorded the three chapters to read tonight and the fifteen questions we were to turn in and flipped the notebook cover close on the flatscreen. Three minutes left in class before bell. Then I had newspaper, which no one read, lacrosse which no one came out for, and a musical practice, where no one sang on key but the parents will sing praises of. I could slip in the reading somewhere in there; my tablet had enough charge to pull that off.

I waited for the classroom to empty, the teacher darting out first to make it to the parent lines. Another stupidity. No buses to save tax money; instead all the parents left work early and waiting in long lines with engines running, angry at the wait. That wasn’t saving time, money, resources, or anyone’s sanity. Slinging my bag over my shoulder, I made my way to the newspaper room.

Bill was waiting for me; he lost his key the second day.

Him losing the key was a ritual. Every year since sixth grade all of us news nerds would get a key, he would lose his between the first and fifth day. As a freshman, he managed it without even leaving the room. Then Meghan would misplace hers sometimes around Christmas, and finally Chris sometime in March. I was the keykeeper for the group by default.

“S’up.” Bill followed me in the room, before bearing off to head toward the graphics computer to download the pictures he had taken today and see if any of the ones other kid emailed in were usable by administration rules. “Meg working today?”

“Fast food. She left last period.”

“It’s gonna hurt when she graduates this year.”

“Ain’t that the truth.” I booted up the ancient monster we use for article assembly and formatting, and did a quick scan of the articles Chris approved for Friday’s publication. It was his quarter as editor-in-chief, a job that bounced between him and me and one of the freshmen we were training up to take over when the Junior crew graduated; Meghan had pushed four years of schooling into three years by attending college courses over the summer. Chris did most of his work during lunch now that basketball season was at its height.

After twenty minutes of quiet clicking, me doing a lot of format tweaking, we both sighed. Mine was because of the ancient software which thought if you moved something one line it needed to pop it over fifteen points had finally agreed to fit everything but the last page into the space needed. It took a delicate hand and earned me the prize of grand wizard at the party before winter break. The group bought me a wand for my Hogwarts and Kane Chronicle obsessions. Bill’s sigh was because he had finished flipping through the pictures from the week and had flagged the ones for me to put in our “This Week at Washington Wigwam” back-page spread.

“Ten minutes until practice.” I said before I picked up the plastic monstrosity of a wand they had given me, with its humongous pale pink gem and silver foil decorations, and started waving it around randomly.

Bill rotated his neck, cracking it loud enough I worried he had broken his spine for a moment. “MUN wants to do an all-day special practice Saturday and my Boy Scout troop has a fundraiser and I can’t decide which to go to or would look better for the college applications I’m filling out.”

The newsroom was full of overachievers, from Bill’s Model United Nations, Eagle Scout, and track commitments to Meg three advanced college credit courses plus two part-time jobs. Some days I felt like the lost cause; my family didn’t have college funds, so unless someone would offer me a free ride including a way to get to university and back and housing and food, it was the salt trenches for me after graduation next year. My present virtual job editing (and writing, shh, if you pay enough) essays for high school students wasn’t much for resume fodder, especially with AI muscling into my territory so strongly this past year.

“Maybe I could wave this wand and you and I could get an extra $100.” I shook the plastic toy, the tinsel tassel shushing with movement.

“Make if five hundred and I will be able to dodge the fundraiser.”

I smiled at him, rotating the chair to face him. “Deal, you wish really hard now.”

He laughed and put both his hands alongside his head and scrunched his face, closing his eyes. “Go!”

“Abracadabra.” I circled the wand over the floor, and then flicked it over the center of the area I had delineated. “Bammo!”

I inhaled sharply.

“Did it work?” Bill asked jokingly, then opened his eyes to discover it had indeed worked.

Stacked on the floor were four neat bundles of five dollars, each strapped together in red bands indicating a hundred bills in each pack.

“I think that is a little more than we asked for,” he muttered.

“To be fair, all three of you bought me the wand, so I guess the extra two are for Meghan and Chris.”

“Want to try that again?” he glanced up at me. “Ten thousand would get me a car.”

“No, no.” I shook my head, staring down at the windfall. “Not today.”

(words 1,061; first published 1/25/2026)