44 Scotland Street

I started reading 44 Scotland Street last night. It's quite charming, by Alexander McCall Smith but not part of the #1 Ladies Detective series or the one with the coffee or the Portuguese Irregular Verbs. He apparently wrote it as sort of a challenge, a daily serial which he wrote a little bit in advance of publication but not very much. That would oppress me to the point of paralysis, I think, but comic strip writers manage and the chapters are short, some only 3 pages long, so I can see where it would be doable. The idea of constructing a plot on the fly when the beginning is out there already read is daunting, but there isn't really much plot. What there is is a strong sense of place, in this case Edinburgh, and engaging characters. It reminds me a little of Ulysses with these characters that you keep running into as they traverse the city, though other than the locale-as-character the two books have very little, maybe nothing, in common.

Anyway, it's the sort of book that makes me want to go read it in a coffee shop or a diner, some public yet anonymous place. I have not been able to figure out why, exactly. I've spent a fair amount of time reading in coffee shops and while it's fine it's never been as lovely as it always seems like it should be when I am seized by this urge. I may make myself an espresso.