I haven’t written about the Alexander McCall Smith books before, though I liked the first very much, and just finished the second, which I also liked. This is, in part, because I don’t feel like I have the eloquence to do them justice.
These books are spare and beautifully composed, and they are almost enough to restore my faith in humanity. They are the work of someone who either believes in the goodness of people, or is able to present an exquisite front–something I could never do, personally. When I tell my co-workers that I believe that people are No Damn Good, I’m only half-joking.
I’m sure a lot of people don’t share my taste in books–let’s face it, I don’t know anyone else who reads Pynchon and Pratchett and Wolfe–but I can’t imagine anyone not enjoying these novels.