Corduroy Mansions, by Alexander McCall Smith

I think Alexander McCall Smith’s book No. 1 Ladies’ Detective Agency is fairly well known, but I ran across this other book by him the other day and found it just as charming as his stories about Precious Ramotzwe. It’s set in London, in an apartment block that’s not quite as posh as some of the others, but a comfortable and pleasant place to be.

There’s an assortment of sweet people who get themselves into various pickles just likely enough to be relatable and just zany enough to be funny. A man who, in the process of getting his son to move out of his apartment, finds himself sharing his space instead with both a dog and woman; a sister’s desire to get her brother a more suitable car, and what he actually comes up with; various romances and miscommunications.

This is, as most of McCall Smith’s books seem to be, the quintessential cozy up on the couch on a rainy day kind of read. Nobody gets beheaded, or eviscerated or has their family slaughtered before their eyes (can you tell the general tenor of the books I’ve been reading lately?). As much as I enjoyed the No. 1 Ladies’ Detective Agency books that I’ve read, this one was more deliberately funny and not quite so contemplative. The narrator looks at people with a kind eye—even when you’re laughing at them, there’s a sense of fondness, a willingness to see the best in people, that is a welcome relief sometimes.