What if the secret to success wasn’t hard work, genius, or even luck—but a cat? This is the whimsical premise behind Andy Weir’s abandoned book idea, Felicitous Feline, a story about a man whose fortune is entirely tied to his inexplicably lucky pet. Personally, I think this concept is far more intriguing than it initially seems. On the surface, it’s a quirky twist on the 'lucky charm' trope, but if you take a step back and think about it, it’s also a clever commentary on the human tendency to attribute success to personal merit rather than external forces. What makes this particularly fascinating is how it contrasts with Weir’s usual hard sci-fi fare, like The Martian and Project Hail Mary. Those stories are grounded in meticulous scientific detail, yet here Weir seems to be playing with the absurd—or is he?
One thing that immediately stands out is Weir’s willingness to experiment across genres. From my perspective, this isn’t just a writer dabbling in new territory; it’s a reflection of his broader creative philosophy. Weir once said he generates ‘a hundred ideas a day, and usually, a hundred of ’em suck.’ This self-awareness is refreshing. It suggests that even a master of hard sci-fi recognizes the value of exploring the silly, the speculative, and the seemingly insignificant. What many people don’t realize is that humor and whimsy have always been part of Weir’s toolkit—Ryland Grace’s irreverent narration in Project Hail Mary is a prime example. So, a lucky cat story isn’t as out of character as it might appear.
But why abandon such a unique idea? In a 2021 interview, Weir dismissed it as ‘stupid,’ yet he also hinted at its potential by saving the cat reveal for the end. This raises a deeper question: Do we undervalue stories that don’t fit neatly into established genres? Weir’s sci-fi works are celebrated for their optimism and hope, a stark contrast to the dystopian narratives of the 2010s. But a lucky cat story could offer a different kind of optimism—one rooted in the absurdity and unpredictability of life. What this really suggests is that Weir’s creative process is less about sticking to a formula and more about exploring what resonates, even if it’s unconventional.
A detail that I find especially interesting is Weir’s use of his own cat as proof of identity during a Reddit Q&A. It’s a small moment, but it speaks to his affinity for the feline theme. If you consider his body of work, Weir has always infused his stories with a sense of humor and relatability. A cat-centric tale could be the ultimate expression of this—a story that’s both universally accessible and deeply personal. In my opinion, Weir should reconsider Felicitous Feline, not as a departure from his strengths but as an expansion of them.
Looking ahead, the idea of Weir pivoting to comedy or fantasy is tantalizing. Imagine a Yes Man-style film written by the mind behind The Martian—a story where the humor isn’t just a buffer for complex science but the driving force. This isn’t about abandoning sci-fi; it’s about exploring new dimensions of storytelling. What if Weir’s next masterpiece isn’t about saving the world with science but about finding joy in the absurd? Personally, I’d love to see him take that leap.
In the end, Felicitous Feline may remain in Weir’s ‘ideas file,’ but its legacy is a reminder that creativity thrives on risk. Weir’s willingness to explore—and discard—ideas like this is what makes him a master storyteller. As readers and viewers, we often crave the familiar, but Weir’s journey suggests that the most exciting stories lie just beyond our comfort zones. So, here’s to the lucky cat that never was—and to the endless possibilities of what could be.
