The Charming Quirks of Others by Alexander McCall-Smith: A review

I generally enjoy the writing of Alexander McCall-Smith. I've been a follower of two of his mystery series, the No. 1 Ladies' Detective Agency series featuring Precious Ramotswe and the Sunday Philosophers' Club series featuring Isabel Dalhousie.

I vacillate in my opinion of the Isabel Dalhousie character. In some of the books in the series, I find her rather sweet and charming, but in others she is altogether insufferable and irritating. This entry in the series has to be placed in the latter category.

The story here is that a school in Isabel's Edinburgh is looking for a new headmaster and has narrowed its list of candidates down to three, but an anonymous letter has been received indicating something scandalous in the background of one of three. Unfortunately, the letter doesn't say which one. Isabel is asked to investigate "discreetly" and let the school's board know who the scandal-ridden candidate is.

This just seems unbelievable on the face of it. Why would the school asked a philosopher, which is what Isabel supposedly is, to investigate? Why not ask a professional investigator? Surely there are some in Scotland. But Isabel accepts the assignment with few questions and little hesitation and the rest of the book finds her bumbling her way through an "investigation."

The thing is, Isabel doesn't really investigate. She takes one offhand stray "clue" and jumps to immediate conclusions about a person. This seems highly unprofessional and incompetent for either a philosopher or a detective.

Not only that but it seems that Isabel is so obsessed with her relationship with her much younger lover, the father of her son, and so insecure in that relationship that she spends all of her time thinking about it. When does she ever find the time to edit her philosophy review or to investigate candidates for headmaster or for that matter to be a mother to her son? The answer seems to be that she really doesn't. I can't see that she spends much time doing anything except thinking about her wonderful Jamie and what a gentle, beautiful YOUNG man he is and how lucky she is that he loves her. But does he really love her, Isabel wonders, or is he having an affair with that fellow musician who is dying and for whom he feels sorry and, therefore, to whom he must make love? After all, she is dying and she is attracted to Jamie and he is so gentle and kind that he just can't reject her...

This is all just a bit of a mishmash really. The story wanders all over the place with very little to hold it all together. By the end, I was ready to reach through the pages, grab Isabel by the shoulders, give her a good shake, and say, "For heavens' sake, woman, quit philosophizing and just get on with it!"

Poetry Sunday: Don't Hesitate by Mary Oliver

How about we share another Mary Oliver poem? After all, you can never have too many of those. In this one, the poet seems to acknowledge that it is often hard to simply live in and enjoy the moment, perhaps because we are afraid it can't last. She urges us to give in to that moment and fully experience the joy. Although "much can never be redeemed, still, life has some possibility left." Don't Hesitate by Mary Oliver If you suddenly and unexpectedly feel joy, don’t hesitate. Give in to it. There are plenty of lives and whole towns destroyed or about to be. We are not wise, and not very often kind. And much can never be redeemed. Still, life has some possibility left. Perhaps this is its way of fighting back, that sometimes something happens better than all the riches or power in the world. It could be anything, but very likely you notice it in the instant when love begins. Anyway, that’s often the case. Anyway, whatever it is, don’t be afraid of its plenty. Joy is no...

Poetry Sunday: Blackberry-Picking by Seamus Heaney

My mother was a farm wife and a prodigious canner. She canned fruit and vegetables from the garden, even occasionally meat. But the best thing that she canned, in my opinion, was blackberry jam. Even as I type those words my mouth waters! Of course, before she could make that jam, somebody had to pick the blackberries. And that somebody was quite often named Dorothy. I think Seamus Heaney might have spent some time among the briars plucking those delicious black fruits as well, so he would have known that "Once off the bush the fruit fermented, the sweet flesh would turn sour." They don't keep; you have to get that jam made in a hurry! Blackberry-Picking by Seamus Heaney Late August, given heavy rain and sun For a full week, the blackberries would ripen. At first, just one, a glossy purple clot Among others, red, green, hard as a knot. You ate that first one and its flesh was sweet Like thickened wine: summer's blood was in it Leaving stains upon the tongue and lust ...

Poetry Sunday: Hymn for the Hurting by Amanda Gorman

You probably remember poet Amanda Gorman from her appearance at the inauguration of President Biden. She read her poem "The Hill We Climb" on that occasion. After the senseless slaughter in Uvalde this week, she was inspired to write another poem which was published in The New York Times. It seemed perfect for the occasion and so I stole it in order to feature it here, just in case you didn't get a chance to read it in the Times . Hymn for the Hurting by Amanda Gorman Everything hurts, Our hearts shadowed and strange, Minds made muddied and mute. We carry tragedy, terrifying and true. And yet none of it is new; We knew it as home, As horror, As heritage. Even our children Cannot be children, Cannot be. Everything hurts. It’s a hard time to be alive, And even harder to stay that way. We’re burdened to live out these days, While at the same time, blessed to outlive them. This alarm is how we know We must be altered — That we must differ or die, That we must triumph or try. ...

The Nature of Things

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