Definitely Holiday reading: "The Good Husband of Zebra Drive" by Alexander McCall-Smith

I find the books on people's shelves fascinating, basically because I imagine they say a lot about the people who own and (I generally presume, unless they are in pseudo leather-bound sets) have read them. But if books say a lot about their readers, is it necessarily in one's interest to reveal all of one's reading material? This thought crossed my mind as I considered this latest little review: frankly, I am really not going to do my credibility as a reader of (at least potentially) worthwhile books any favours by revealing I am on the eighth of the No. 1 Ladies Detective Agency books, am I? And yet, well, if I'm doing this, I may as well come clean about it: I do enjoy the odd little escapist foray into the world of Mma Ramotswe and her probably very rose-tinted Botswana.

Reviewing one of these books has about as much point as reviewing a James Bond picture; you know what you're going to get, more or less, and the books duly deliver. Nothing much ever happens in them, in fact, it seems to me any real attempt at a sustained plot is gradually being abandoned by the author, and even the central mystery of this volume, albeit one occupying only about 10% of the volume, as to why intensive care patients are dying in a hospital at the same time on the same day of the week, is hardly a mystery at all, especially as the explanation, when revealed, turns out to be exactly (and I mean exactly) the same as an identical mystery in some popular TV series I distinctly recall seeing some time ago - though I cannot recall which and cannot find anyone on the internet who makes this point.

Reading these books is however a kind of mild and thoroughly harmless addiction. It is a bit like tuning in, once a year, to some old fashioned soap, one which makes the Archers seem gritty, to check up on the vicissitudes of a group of characters of which one has grown quietly fond. There is nice evocation of character, healthy dollops of homely wisdom, a transparent affection for this quiet corner of Africa and never anything really unpleasant going on. And, yes, it is impossible not to be won over by the traditionally built Mma Ramotswe, however flawed and driven we are supposed to like our protagonists these days. Frankly, I think people probably read these novels for a break, possibly from reality, but in my case also from reading anything demanding and/or potentially a bit nasty (c.f. The Girl with the Dragon Tatoo). It helps that the books are short and quick to read, never more than two or three days, time that counts as a wholesome little break before returning to meatier tomes. 

Not a lot more to say really. This book is basically just nice, like all the others. That's not necessarily such a bad thing, now and then, is it?

Recommendation: you do not need to read these books. If, having read this, you're thinking "For crying out loud, what a lightweight!" then I would suggest you steer clear of them. If you have a weakness for a little escapist fiction now and then, and tire of finding your escapism in crime fiction where the good guys are psychopaths, and graphically disembowelled corpses adorn page after page, you could give Mma Ramotswe a try. It doesn't really matter which, they're all pretty much the same, including this one.