Fanatics Guide To Cats

Before the internet transformed cats into full-time digital employees with sponsorship deals and emotional support TikTok accounts, there were books like Fanatics Guide to Cats by Roland Fiddy — compact little monuments to feline obsession from a gentler age when cat enthusiasm was still conducted primarily through novelty gift books, fridge magnets and middle-aged relatives who owned decorative plates. Published in 1992 by Exley Publications, this is peak early-1990s cat culture: cheerful, mildly unhinged, and absolutely certain that cats are superior to humanity in every measurable category. Which, to be fair, they probably are.

Roland Fiddy, whose very name sounds like someone who ought to own at least six waistcoats and a deeply sarcastic tabby, produced exactly the kind of book that flourished in gift shops before the age of algorithmic recommendations. Small enough to fit beside a teacup, charming enough to be given at Christmas by an aunt who says things like “this reminded me of you”, and dangerous enough to trigger immediate conversations about whether cats are affectionate or merely tiny fur-coated landlords.

And let us be honest: the answer is landlords.

The genius of books like this lies in their complete understanding that cat ownership is less a hobby and more a long-term psychological negotiation. Dogs may worship humanity, but cats behave as though they reluctantly tolerate us in exchange for heating and administrative support. Entire civilizations have risen and fallen while cats continued calmly licking themselves in doorways, unmoved by empire, philosophy or the invention of Wi-Fi.

The early 1990s setting makes the whole thing even more glorious. This was a period when Britain briefly convinced itself that humour gift books represented the pinnacle of publishing sophistication. Bookshops overflowed with tiny hardbacks about golf, gardening, Labradors, tea, fishing, retirement and mildly passive-aggressive domestic wisdom. Exley Publications practically built an empire on the concept of “small decorative books your mum buys near the till”. And somehow, against all odds, many of them remain oddly charming.

Physically, this copy is in good condition, which means it has survived decades of potential cat-related hazards: fur, claws, damp windowsills, and being knocked off furniture at 3am by an animal expressing abstract artistic dissatisfaction. Cat books rarely lead easy lives. They tend to live beside armchairs, accumulate biscuit crumbs, and develop the faint aura of houses containing at least one elderly Persian named something like Montague.

There is also something delightfully pre-ironic about 1992 animal humour. Modern internet culture tends to portray cats as existential nihilists running cryptocurrency scams. Back then, cat humour revolved around them being sleepy, arrogant and occasionally disapproving of upholstery. Simpler times. Better times, arguably.

Whether you are a committed cat fanatic, collector of quirky gift books, lover of vintage humour publishing, or simply someone who understands the peculiar emotional blackmail techniques employed by domestic felines, this is a wonderfully atmospheric little survivor from the golden age of novelty hardbacks.

And unlike an actual cat, this one will not stare at you judgmentally while you try to eat toast.

Crappy Old Books: rescuing forgotten curiosities from the bottom shelf of Britain’s collective spare room.

Keep browsing: See more Humour books Other books by Roland Fiddy