Book Thirtyfive: The Lost Art of Gratitude

The Lost Art of Gratitude, Alexander McCall Smith

I bet it's fun, as an author, to push your own agenda through characters in your novels. And having readers like me eat it up.

Isabel thought about this. It was just too easy to say that adults did not like stories that were simple, and perhaps that was wrong. Perhaps that was what adults really wanted, searched for and rarely found: a simple story in which good triumphs against cynicism and despair. That was what she wanted, but she was aware of the fact that one did not publicise the fact too widely, certainly not in sophisticated circles. Such circles wanted complexity, dysfunction and irony: there was no room for joy, celebration or pathos. But what was the fun in that?

Sigh. I have nothing more to say about Isabel Dalhousie. I just love her so.


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