Many people don’t know yet that I spend more time reading children’s books than anything else – and am not ashamed of it.
This one was delightful, as Alexander McCall Smith usually is. It’s the kind of book you can read slowly, knowing that it will not run away. You know that you won’t forget crucial details that contribute to the plot. You know that the focus of the story is not the plot, but life itself. You know that ideas and thoughts will un-self-consciously find their way into description and dialogue.
The name itself brings that sweet smile and says, “Hey, that’s a book I want to read!”
I took my own time to read it, chuckling at traditionally-built women, women who dream about shoes and men who dream about cars and garages. I remembered, once again, the fact that cliches are cliches for a reason. They are used for a reason, and still work when used well.
I read the story calmly and easily, not compelled by the action of the plot to keep reading, but still drawn to the book because of the people, whom I barely think of as characters.
I finished the book with a smile. A charming book, at peace with the world.