By Paul Carrier
We read books for all kinds of reasons: to acquire factual information, for example, or to escape into a fictional world far different from our own.
Some books provide insight into the human condition. Others make us laugh, or cry, or ponder great questions, or marvel at an author’s skill.
Then there are those that are the literary equivalent of a mug of tea by the fireside on a chilly morning, as snow mounts during a winter storm. Such books are charming, making for a soothing read that contains just enough spice to keep us turning the pages.
A Conspiracy of Friends, the third novel in Alexander McCall Smith’s Corduroy Mansions series, falls into that last category. In it, McCall Smith continues to chronicle the intriguing but not terribly dramatic adventures of various contemporary Britons, some of whom live in the shabby coziness of Corduroy Mansions, a London apartment building.
In short, episodic chapters, each of which is focused on a particular character, McCall Smith weaves in and out of the lives of his creations, jumping from person to person to person and then looping back to characters who appeared earlier by pulling them back onstage for an encore and an update.
I suppose this series could be described as a soap opera of sorts. But that would be a bit misleading because it implies sappy dialogue, melodramatic plot twists and more than a dash of violence, none of which plague the denizens of Corduroy Mansions.
Sure, romances flourish and crumble, relationships intensify and disintegrate. Wine seller William French, for example, is shocked to learn that his best friend’s wife has been in love with him for many years. When another character, Caroline Jarvis, goes out on a date with a male roommate after telling a prospective boyfriend that she is sick, the friend to whom she lied spots the couple in a restaurant.
Then there’s psychotherapist Berthea Snark, who continues to peck away at a mean-spirited biography of her politician son Oedipus Snark, whom she loathes. Berthea also makes periodic visits to her daffy brother, Terence Moongrove, to prevent her naive, child-like sibling from self destructing.
Yet these, and other, generally unrelated plot lines chug along in a humorous and leisurely fashion, leaving the reader secure in the knowledge that nothing truly catastrophic will happen to anyone in these pages. And that certainly includes Freddie de la Hay.
Freddie is a dog. A terrier, to be more precise. (That’s him on the cover.) He’s William French’s dog, but when William takes Freddie along for a visit with friends in the country, Freddie disappears. This leaves William sick, first with worry, then with grief when he assumes that Freddie has met his end.
That’s when the novel briefly develops a real head of steam, although readers familiar with McCall Smith’s tone and Freddie’s earlier adventures in the series assume that he will emerge unscathed.
A Conspiracy of Friends has loose ends aplenty by the time it draws to a close, suggesting that another installment in the series is likely. Which is fine by me, because I’d love to spend more time with the endearing denizens of Corduroy Mansions as they grapple with the quotidian ups and downs of lives that are absorbing, but never electrifying.
Some books provide insight into the human condition. Others make us laugh, or cry, or ponder great questions, or marvel at an author’s skill.
Then there are those that are the literary equivalent of a mug of tea by the fireside on a chilly morning, as snow mounts during a winter storm. Such books are charming, making for a soothing read that contains just enough spice to keep us turning the pages.
A Conspiracy of Friends, the third novel in Alexander McCall Smith’s Corduroy Mansions series, falls into that last category. In it, McCall Smith continues to chronicle the intriguing but not terribly dramatic adventures of various contemporary Britons, some of whom live in the shabby coziness of Corduroy Mansions, a London apartment building.
In short, episodic chapters, each of which is focused on a particular character, McCall Smith weaves in and out of the lives of his creations, jumping from person to person to person and then looping back to characters who appeared earlier by pulling them back onstage for an encore and an update.
I suppose this series could be described as a soap opera of sorts. But that would be a bit misleading because it implies sappy dialogue, melodramatic plot twists and more than a dash of violence, none of which plague the denizens of Corduroy Mansions.
Sure, romances flourish and crumble, relationships intensify and disintegrate. Wine seller William French, for example, is shocked to learn that his best friend’s wife has been in love with him for many years. When another character, Caroline Jarvis, goes out on a date with a male roommate after telling a prospective boyfriend that she is sick, the friend to whom she lied spots the couple in a restaurant.
Then there’s psychotherapist Berthea Snark, who continues to peck away at a mean-spirited biography of her politician son Oedipus Snark, whom she loathes. Berthea also makes periodic visits to her daffy brother, Terence Moongrove, to prevent her naive, child-like sibling from self destructing.
Yet these, and other, generally unrelated plot lines chug along in a humorous and leisurely fashion, leaving the reader secure in the knowledge that nothing truly catastrophic will happen to anyone in these pages. And that certainly includes Freddie de la Hay.
Freddie is a dog. A terrier, to be more precise. (That’s him on the cover.) He’s William French’s dog, but when William takes Freddie along for a visit with friends in the country, Freddie disappears. This leaves William sick, first with worry, then with grief when he assumes that Freddie has met his end.
That’s when the novel briefly develops a real head of steam, although readers familiar with McCall Smith’s tone and Freddie’s earlier adventures in the series assume that he will emerge unscathed.
A Conspiracy of Friends has loose ends aplenty by the time it draws to a close, suggesting that another installment in the series is likely. Which is fine by me, because I’d love to spend more time with the endearing denizens of Corduroy Mansions as they grapple with the quotidian ups and downs of lives that are absorbing, but never electrifying.
