Well Known Character Traits

Alexander McCall Smith delights us with his latest installment of The No. 1 Ladies' Detective Agency series. (And by latest, I don't mean it's dead!)

Whether we have known Mma Ramotswe for ten books prior to this one, or are a newcomer to the series, these two selections can be enjoyed... not just for an insight into Mma Ramotswe's character, but for pure literary enjoyment...

Let's begin with the opening chapter of the book. Oddly enough, Mma Ramotswe doesn't even make a physical appearance in this chapter. And yet, she is present, even if just in the thoughts of her husband, Mr. J.L.B. Matekoni...

He had very few criticisms to make of Precious Ramotswe, his wife and founder of the No. 1 Ladies' Detective Agency, but if one were to make a list of her faults--which would be a minuscule document, barely visible, indeed, to the naked eye--one would perhaps have to include a tendency (only a slight tendency, of course) to claim that things that she happened to believe were well known. This phrase gave these beliefs a sort of unassailable authority, the status that went with facts that all right-thinking people would readily acknowledge--such as the fact that the sun rose in the east, over the undulating canopy of acacia that stretched along Botswana's border, over the waters of the great Limpopo River itself that now, at the height of the rainy season, flowed deep and fast towards the ocean half a continent away... All these facts were indeed both incontestable and well known; whereas Mma Ramotswe's pronouncements, to which she attributed the special status of being well known, were often, rather, statements of opinion. There was a difference, thought Mr. J.L.B. Matekoni, but it was not one he was planning to point out; there were some things, after all, that it was not helpful for a husband to say to his wife, and that, he thought, was probably one of them.

We get a demonstration of this later in Chapter 14. Not from Mr. J.L.B. Matekoni's point of view this time, but from that of Mma Makutsi.

[Mma Makutsi] also navigated--which was not an exacting task given that the road to Francistown, which marked the end of the first leg of the journey, ran straight and true from Gaborone northwards and neither meandered nor diverted. "You go straight here, Mma," said Mma Makutsi. "That sign over there says Francistown. That is the route to take." Mma Ramotswe nodded. "Yes," she said. "These are good signs, don't you think Mma? They make it quite clear which way you should go."

Mma Makutsi, interpreting this as veiled criticism of her navigating, searched for an objection to this remark. "But what if there is a blind person?" she challenged. "What use would they be then?

"But a blind person shouldn't be driving," said Mma Ramotswe. And added, as if the matter required further resolution, "That is well known, Mma."

There could be no answer to that, and the subject was closed.

Taken from:
McCall Smith, Alexander. The Double Comfort Safari Club (2010), pp. 3-4; 156.

How did I rate this book? Another satisfying read from The No. 1 Ladies' Detective Agency!

The Chatter of Lots of Characters

So, you've written twelve books in a popular series. You're entitled to have a little fun with your readers.

And that is exactly what happens in this final book in Arthur Ransome's Swallows and Amazons series.

This following excerpt is delightful. Especially after we've read every book in the series and we've come to know the characters as if they were good friends. The Swallows, Amazons, and D's are sailing (of course) with Captain Flint. As they stand on deck, looking through the spyglass, their distinct voices come through. (You almost don't need the narrator telling you who said what!)

There was a lot of chatter up there. People were taking turns with glasses and telescope. "Look here, it's my turn now. I spotted her first." That was Roger. "Only a motorboat, anyway." That was John. "She's going to pass us pretty close." That was Nancy. "You carry on, Nancy. We've the right of way. You've nothing to worry about. She'll pass under our stern." That was Captain Flint. "She's coming up a terrific lick." That was Roger. "Probably carrying dispatches." That was Titty. "Or taking a doctor to one of the lighthouses." That was Dorothea.

Taken from:
Ransome, Arthur. Great Northern? (1947), p. 16.

How did I rate this book? 4 stars

A Study in Larger-than-Life Characters

Cheaper by the Dozen is a study in character. Episodic in nature, the book is dominated by a larger-than-life personality...

Frank Gilbreth.

Written by two of the twelve Gilbreth children, the book tells the story of their Motion Study expert father who is always on the lookout to create efficiency in every way. As the book cover nicely sums up this character as "a lively, unpredictable, and wholly beloved autocrat."

But how did the Gilbreth kids create such a character, and still have him be the endearing man they remembered?

One episode in the story involves a chapter entitled: Motion Study Tonsils. As implied, Gilbreth newest project involved finding out how surgeons could better perform operations. To him, this meant filming various operations to "sort out the good motions from the wasted motions." Of course, it's hard to get both patients and doctors to sign off on allowing their operations to be filmed.

That's when a brainstorm hits our Motion Study expert. Why not film his own children having their tonsils out? And to show that he's not using his kids as guinea pigs, he promises to have his own tonsils out as well. (By the way, this whole episode is perhaps one of the funniest in the 1950 version of the movie by the same name, starring Clifton Webb and Myrna Loy).

So, here we are. An excerpt from the book that shows Mr. Frank Gilbreth, Efficiency Expert, in all his glory:

While we were recuperating, Dad spent considerable time with us, but minimized our discomforts, and kept telling us we were just looking for sympathy.

"Don't tell me," he said. "I saw the operations, didn't I? Why there's only the little, tiniest cut at the back of your throat. I don't understand how you can do all that complaining. Don't you remember the story about the Spartan boy who kept his mouth shut while the fox was chewing on his vitals?"

It was partly because of our complaining, and the desire to show us how the Spartan boy would have had his tonsils out, that Dad decided to have only a local anesthetic for his operation. Mother, Grandma, and Dr. Burton all advised against it. But Dad wouldn't listen.

"Why does everyone want to make a mountain out of a molehill over such a minor operation?" he said. "I want to keep an eye on Burton and see that he doesn't mess up the job."

The first day that we children were well enough to get up, Dad and Mother set out in the car for Dr. Burton's office. Mother had urged Dad to call a taxi. She didn't know how to drive, and she said Dad probably wouldn't feel like doing the driving on the way home. But Dad laughed at her qualms.

"Be back in about an hour," Dad called to us as he tested his three horns to make sure he was prepared for any emergency. "Wait lunch for us. I'm starving."

"You've go to hand it to him," Anne admitted as the Pierce Arrow bucked up Wayside Place. "He's the bee's knees, all right. We were all scared to death before our operations. And look at him. He's looking forward to it."

Two hours later, a taxicab stopped in front of the house, and the driver jumped out and opened the door for his passengers. Then Mother emerged, pale and red-eyed. She and the driver helped a crumpled mass of moaning blue serge to alight. Dad's hat was rumpled and on sideways. His face was gray and and sagging. He wasn't crying, but his eyes were watering. He couldn't speak and he couldn't smile.

But wait! The chapter doesn't end there.

Remember how the purpose of this whole thing was to film the tonsil operations? Well, the cameraman, Mr. Coggin, didn't exactly enjoy the experience. At one point, Coggin was "sick in a wastebasket." But is Gilbreth sympathetic? Not on your life! "'Don't stop cranking,' Dad shouted at him, 'or your tonsils will be next. I'll pull them out by the roots, myself. Crank, by jingo, crank.'" (p.107)

Here's how the Gilbreths finish the chapter:

Dad didn't get his voice back until the very day that he finally got out of bed. He was lying there, propped up on pillows, reading his office mail. There was a card from Mr. Coggin, the photographer.

"Hate to tell you, Mr. Gilbreth., but none of the moving pictures came out. I forgot to take off the inside lens cap. I'm terribly sorry. Coggin. P.S. I quit."

Dad threw off the covers and reached for his bathrobe. For the first time in two weeks, he spoke:

"I'll track him down to the ends of the earth," he croaked. "I'll take a blunt button hook and pull his tonsils out by the by jingoed roots, just like I promised him. He doesn't quit. He's fired."

Taken from:
Gilbreth, Frank B. Jr. and Ernestine Gilbreth Carey. Cheaper by the Dozen (1948), pp. 109-10, 112-13.

How did I rate this book? 3 stars