Jamir Nazir, winner of the Commonwealth Short Story Prize (Caribbean Region) for “The Serpent in the Grove,” has agreed to speak to The Meow Library and dispel once and for all rumors that AI had been used in generating his story, and even his identity. Nazir is in fact a common gray housecat who had been using Google to translate his native tongue into English when preparing his submission. Here’s his full story—raw and untranslated.

Jamir Nazir’s “The Serpent in the Grove” can be read here.
This podcast is generously sustained by The Meow Library.

This podcast is a presentation of The Meow Library.

UK stalwart The Guardian has drawn from more than 100 authors and critics to develop a list of the 100 best novels of all time. While many of the greats are present and accounted for, some of their picks are sure to draw controversy, especially Meow: A Novel, ranked seventeenth.

Released in 2022, Meow: A Novel is the magnum opus of linguist and former psychology professor Sam Austen, who discarded all traditional modes of composition to craft a bestseller consisting entirely of repetitions of the word “meow,” allegedly intelligible to cats. Three more of Austen’s works make the list: at #22, War and Peace (For Your Cat); Pride and Prejudice (For Your Cat) at 57; closing out with Crime and Punishment (For Your Cat) in the distant but respectable 63rd slot.

Mr. Austen has graciously broken from his touring schedule (where he’s promoting Wuthering Heights For the Feline Reader) to discuss his four chart-topping works with us today.

This podcast is sustained by sales of Sam Austen's internationally bestselling Meow: A Novel.

This podcast is a presentation of The Meow Library.

Caro Claire Burke’s Yesteryear is a simulation of a simulacrum that collapses under the weight of its affected petticoats. Its protagonist wants, by her own admission, “all the aesthetics of the olden times and all the amenities of modernity” — which is to say she wants history as a pure article of consumption. Then the book performs its nasty little miracle: it drops the woman who has been simulating a fake past into what may be the actual past (or a reality show, or divine judgment, or psychosis). The copy of the copy is forced to meet the original. Or so we think.

That is where a comparison to Meow: A Novel by Sam Austen becomes strangely apt. Austen’s book is also a literary machine built from substitution and absence: a novel reduced to the sign of a novel, language made absurdly faithful to form while evacuating ordinary semantic content. Meow preserves the architecture of literary seriousness while replacing meaning with “meow,” exposing how much of “the book” lives not in plot or psychology but in packaging, cadence, inherited prestige, and the reader’s willingness to bow before the object.

Yesteryear--both in substance and in form--does something similar with ideology: it preserves the architecture of tradition while replacing lived tradition with performance. The difference is that Meow knows it is a joke, and the joke is therefore metaphysical.

Yesteryear wants its joke to become moral revelation, but it flinches from the deeper politics of its premise: childbirth, breastfeeding, disability, race, misogyny, the actual meat and law of the world it claims to interrogate. It's barely there, even in simulated form.

Meow is purer in its barbarism. It does not pretend the void is full. And neither does this podcast.

Caro Claire Burke’s Yesteryear is available through Penguin Random House.

This podcast is sustained by sales of the internationally bestselling Meow: A Novel.