Catching up with Mma Ramotswe
Books 24-27 of 52 for 2011
Recently I undertook the reckless act of making a trip to a different library branch to the one I normally frequent – and there, quietly perusing the crime shelves, I had quite a serious shock, I can tell you. Time was when the publication of the latest in Alexander McCall Smith’s gentle series about Botswana’s only lady detective used to send me fleeing into Waterstones in quest of its brightly-coloured jacket. Now, I was a bit chastened to discover, no less than four had been published that I had neglected to read. They turned out to be as follows:
- The Good Husband of Zebra Drive
- The Miracle at Speedy Motors
- The Double Comfort Safari Club
- Tea-time for the traditionally-built
Clearly these books walk off the library shelves, as all four were either in stock or easily obtainable from nearby branches without the need for anything as formal as a reservation. This episode reflects the odd relationship I’ve had with McCall Smith in recent years. I used to consume like fury everything he wrote – including the No.1 Ladies’ Detective Agency books, which have the distinct advantage that you can see one off in around four hours. I liked Scotland Street too, until the author started focusing particularly on young Bertie, never one of my absolute favourites. And I’ve had a couple of run-ins with Isabel Dalhousie, accounts of which you can find on this blog, which have convinced me that this lady and I will never be friends.
But Mma Precious Ramotswe is always a pleasure to meet, a statement which exposure to the latest four volumes of her adventures confirms. To be completely honest and transparent with you, dear reader, I am writing a combined blog post for these four titles because I couldn’t entirely recall where each one started and ended without considerable prompting – and it is an essential quality of library books that they will always need returning, sometimes sooner than is absolutely convenient. However, I can say with respectable certainty that reading them was a pleasure, like taking a long, hot bath on a Sunday afternoon, or drinking that hot chocolate made with cream (or, indeed, consuming anythng else) sold by Konditor and Cook. After all, some reading is challenging, and some relaxing, and finding the balance between the two is everything.
I definitely noticed that this author, sometimes criticised for writing books in which nothing ever happens, did introduce some large and shocking incidents into some of these tales, events on a scale to play havoc with the health and emotional wellbeing of his cast of characters. Because they come so rarely, they are exceptionally shocking, and their waves ripple out across the novels like the aftermath of a loud bang. I’ve also noticed that, almost every time I’ve picked up an AMS book, that a lot of his purpose in writing seems to be to organise his fictional world in the way he would like the real one to be run if only it was so biddable. Thus the good get a decent and moderate amount of earthly reward without having to wait for the next world (usually the karmic equivalent, one might say, of a slice of good Scots shortbread with their morning beverage). The bad are sent away with a flea in their ear far more often (and far more satisfyingly) than can customarily be relied upon to happen in everyday life.
Thus it was interesting, and a bit unsettling, to see most of what the author seems to feel is wrong with Botswana, the world beyond, and the human character in general, distilled into the person of one young woman. The character of Violet Sepotho has always been an all-purpose baddie in these tales, failing as she did to make the most of her opportunities at the Botswana Secretarial College, besting and bullying her less attractive and much less fortunate classmate Grace Makutsi at every opportunity. But now she seems to be the embodiment of a wide-ranging evil that means, whatever the circumstances, she is behind them, behaving badly and threatening the stability of the other men and (especially) women in the tale.
I’m not quite sure what that means, given that the author writes such strong female characters as a general rule, something that wins him a lot of credit with me. I also see that the young woman mentioned is casting a long shadow over the next book in this series, The Saturday Big Tent Wedding Party. (Does that mean, perchance, that Grace will succeed in making an honest man of Phuti?) I do know that I enjoyed the hours I spent catching up with the world of Precious Ramotswe, and my vicarious trip to Botswana, immensely – despite the slight haziness of the individual details. So I shall be looking out for the library to get that next volume in as soon as ever it may.
Tags: Alexander McCall Smith, cozy mysteries, crime, detective fiction