You know, I'm not so sure I would have read anything by Alexander McCall Smith when I was in my teens or twenty-somethings. I'm not even sure I would have read Alexander Maupin's Tales of the City series back then.
On the other side of that reader's coin, there are probably things I read then that would bore me to tears now or that would exceed my personal violence-in-a-book limit.
But like so many other folks, I've developed a passion for the writing of this pleasantly rotund Scot who sometimes must find it hard to write with that permanent twinkle in his eye.
At this point, I've sampled books in all four of McCall Smith's series: The Ladies Number One Detective Agency, Portugese Irregular Verbs, and the Sunday Philosophy Club series starring Isabel Dalhousie as well as three of the 44 Scotland Street quintet. I've enjoyed them all but there's something about the lives in this apartment house in Edinburgh that makes me want to pack my bags and move in.
As long as it's not in the same flat as Bruce.
So you could say I'm revisiting one of my favorite literary waysides, starting at the beginning of the series so that I can eventually treat myself to the fourth (The World According to Bertie) and then fifth (The Unbearable Lightness of Scones) books. (As if I needed an excuse to buy books.)
Oh, sorry, gotta cut this short. Bertie's about to play his saxophone.
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