Some Downs and Ups
16 November

Well the disappointments continued.

We did well not to go to X-Men II when it was in the cinema. We quite liked the first film when we went to see it three years ago. But this was quite inferior really. At least we watched it on DVD in the comfort of our own home, with a nice crackling fire in the hearth, a cat on our laps and a nice cup of tea to hand.

The Bluecoat gave us another duff arts show entitled senseless: Art/Bodies/Misfits. Ross had been quite keen to go as the exhibition had been created by people with disabilities and was about issues around disability and body image. In the event, the show proved that disabled people can also produce art which does not engage the viewer. We spent very little time with the art works.

I've had better luck with books. I picked up Collected Short Stories Vol.1 by W Somerset Maugham a while back and it's been an easy read on the bus into work. My problem with it is that it's too much of a good thing. There's a similar slightly acid tone in all the stories. There's a similar framing device in many of them with characters talking to characters who then tell a story. I shall return to Maugham as I do like his control of the English language but I do need a break from the riches.

I sometimes read books on a tip from others. The nice man in our local bookshop suggested I have a go at Hokkaido Highway Blues by Will Ferguson. I don't usually read travel books but this one was gentle and amusing and full of incident and anecdote. I learnt a little about the Japanese way of life and viewpoint. It didn't make me want to go to Japan, however.

From the Land of Green Ghosts by Pascal Khoo Thwe I heard about on Radio 4's Book Programme where it got an astonishingly good recommendation. I don't normally read auto-biography but this was special - a tale of growing up in Burma through the Communist rule there. But, although there were some very moving passages, ultimately I was glad when I'd finished it.

So, I was a bit apprehensive when the same source also recommended The No.1 Ladies' Detective Agency by Alexander McCall Smith. But it sounded interesting so I thought I would give it a go. The basic premise concerns a middle-aged African woman of traditional build, Precious Ramotswe, who sets up her own detective agency in Gabarone, Botswana.

All I can say is that it is wonderful. The following quote from a review in The Sunday Telegraph gives as good an idea of how it feels to read the book.

The author's prose has the merits of simplicity, euphony and precision. His descriptions leave one as if standing in the Botswana landscape. This is art that conceals art. I haven't read anything with such unalloyed pleasure for a long time.

I can't agree more. I almost wept for joy at the discovery of another book I shall treasure. It's the humanity of the story telling, the sheer humanity, that leaves me wide-eyed and agog. This discovery has been an absolutely five star experience.

There are at least four other novels to come after this first. I know already that I am going to have to ration myself. Otherwise I shall find myself losing the magic through over-exposure.

One thing that has been going up and down all week is Ross's stairlift. I've been a long while in becoming resigned to this addition to the household. I don't know whether it's an intrusion or an improvement. Nutkin certainly has his reservations.