Like all the novels in the No.1 Ladies’ Detective Agency series, Alexander McCall Smith’s Tea Time for the Traditionally Built is a joy to read.

Mma Ramotswe is faced with a number of troubles in this most recent novel in the series:

Her beloved little white van is reaching the end of its days and she visits Fanwell’s home, with him, in the hope that he can perform a miracle repair. Her loving husband, Mr J. L. B. Matekoni, would be sure to condemn the little van and provide a new one – but she loves her faithful van.

Mma Makutsi is out of sorts because her fiancé, Mr Phuti Radiphuti, is being pursued by Violet Sephotho, a Jezebel who has inveigled her way into selling beds in his furniture store. There is a mystery behind her astonishing success at selling beds.

The Molofololo case will bring welcome legal fees to the detective agency but Mma Ramotswe has little interest in or knowledge of football and has difficulty working out why the Kalahari Swoopers are involved in a long losing streak. It will take the wisdom of a child to solve the case.

As always, the novel is set against a background of Botswana with honest, genuine and peaceful people who love their country and celebrate its countryside and traditions – in this case the regular meetings over cups of tea. And, of course, as we know, Mma Ramotswe is ‘traditionally built’.

Paddy Ashdown, A Fortunate Life

Ed. note: Paddy Ashdown is the guest speaker Tuesday 2 June at the Chateau de Prangins. The event is  sponsored by Executives International. Details, registration He will also be appearing Wednesday 1 July at a book signing at Off the Shelf in Geneva, followed by a presentation at an evening event sponsored by the British Swiss Chamber of Commerce at the Hotel Beau Rivage.

Paddy Ashdown, for eleven years leader of the UK Liberal Democrats, Britain’s third political party, has a special significance for Genevans. For years he was one of us, and his love of skiing, the Alps and nearby Savoie and Burgundy rings through his autobiography. He even has a French son-in-law and French grandchildren.

Paddy’s Bedford School reports claim that he had ‘no aptitude for languages’.  He modestly declares in a footnote that, when asked how many languages he speaks, he says he has forgotten six and is ‘nowadays only comfortable in French’. This from a man who has the equivalent of a first class honours degree in Chinese and who, in the course of a thrilling career, has functioned in Hindi, Malay, German, and what used to be called Serbo-Croat!

Such modesty is typical of the man we feel we know well from his political days. Many of us remember his years in Parliament, the initial triumph in the Yeovil seat and the growing strength of his party. We recall a scandal where he was hounded by the press. We sympathise with the failed ambition to partner Tony Blair in a move towards the proportional representation and constitutional reform that the UK’s third party would so warmly welcome. This section of Lord Ashdown of Norton-sub-Hamdon’s autobiography leaves us with a sense of  ’déja vu’ where we love Paddy for his honesty. In the current British political climate of corruption, it is refreshing to read of such political passion, defence of liberal ideas and devoted enthusiasm for a cause.

But this section of the autobiography (just over a third) pales in significance compared with the other parts: the accounts of Paddy’s school years, his leadership of a commando in Borneo, the Special Boat Service, time in Belfast, and his deeply emotional involvement with the cause of Bosnia Herzegovina.

Paddy admits, several times, that a privileged education has led him into his ‘fortunate life’, but Bedford was not easy. Gifted at sport but not keen on the academic aspects of school, he survived  early years of rough-and-tumble of a public school because of his ability to fight.

At 18, he chose the Royal Marines rather than a university. That is where the really exciting sections of the book begin. The descriptions of the jungle patrols of his commando are in such evocative prose that we feel as though we have shared the experiences – like the parachuting, and  nerve-wracking underwater entries and exits from a submarine during his Special Boat Service years.

The most moving element of the work is, undeniably, the involvement with the Balkan crisis. Lord Ashdown himself says in his prologue,

two of my Technicolor days, the best and the worst, fall consecutively in the second week of August 1992. Together they form not just a memory but also somehow a distillation of the theme of my life; that of conflict and its human consequences when the beast of intolerance and bigotry gets loose. Looking back, this seems like a subterranean stream which has appeared, vanished and re-emerged, never completely leaving me, since my earliest days.

He is speaking of his meeting with Radovan Karadzic and subsequent visit to  the brutal prison of Manjaca.

His description of Bosnia Herzegovina, where he spent nearly four years as the International High Representative and European Union Special Representative, is simply beautiful. We live with him and Jane, his wife, through four moving years there.

We leave this book feeling immense admiration for such a gentle and honest man who has given his life so generously for causes he truly believes in.

There is the light-hearted side too! A wealth of anecdotes enriches this autobiography and raises a smile on almost every page – like the wonderful one about a lecturer’s demonstration of how to survive – eat a live frog sandwich - or the description of coping with Balkan politics – ‘like herding cats’.

Paddy Ashdown’s autobiography, A Fortunate Life, can be obtained in Geneva from the English Bookshop, Off the Shelf.

When I Lived in Modern Times, Linda Grant

The Orange Prize for Fiction is awarded to a wide range of books. They are invariably worth reading and When I Lived in Modern Times, by Linda Grant, is no exception. Unlike many of the novels that win the prize, this one is based on history.

Evelyn Sert is 20 in 1946 when she decides to go to Israel. Her Jewish identity is inherited from her Latvian grandparents, but she has never known her American father and has been raised in England and trained as a hairdresser.

Her mother’s lover encourages Evelyn to ‘return’ to Israel, which is just as old as she is. She conceals her Jewish identity and travels as a Christian tourist but then mingles with the new nation and works in a Kibbutz.

Unhappy with Kibbutz life, Evelyn creates a niche for herself in Tel Aviv and we live, with her, through the heady days of the young city. However, she is soon involved in politics through the dangerous activities of her lover who is working for the Irgun underground movement.

The denouement is, perhaps, disappointing but Evelyn’s return to the Israel of her youth, later in her life, is a realistic view of what it is like to ‘go back’, and possibly a message for all of us to leave our memories intact.

The Private Papers of Eastern jewel, Maureen Lindley

Praise by Jung Chang, Adeline Yen Mah, and Harper’s Bazaar, added to the bright and beautifully designed cover, made this novel irresistible. For me, Maureen Lindley’s The Private Papers of Eastern Jewel did not live up to that promise.

The novel is based on the life of a real Manchu princess, child of a concubine and the fourteenth daughter of Prince Su Qin Wang, a member of the Qing dynasty. Maureen Lindley has used her imagination to pad the meagre information that is available.

Eastern Jewel is caught watching her father make love to a fourteen-year old girl. She is banished to Japan, a gift to her father’s blood-brother. Unwelcome in her Japanese family, she is used sexually and finally married off to a Mongolian prince.

Eastern Jewel flees her passionless marriage and leads a wild life in Shanghai before becoming a spy for the Japanese in her original homeland, China. She is ultimately betrayed. The papers we read are those found in her cell in Number One Prison, Peking.

What I disliked about the text were the details of Yoshiko’s sexual encounters that appear time after time and ultimately interfere with a lively narrative. Far more interesting, for me, were the descriptions of life on the cold Mongolian plains and the background of Japanese and Chinese politics.

Maps of My Life, Guy Browning

Guy Browning loves maps and each chapter of Maps of My life is prefaced by a map. Some of these are real maps of exotic places, with hilarious annotations. For example, Thor Heyerdahl figures in many of them, usually ‘unable to admit a navigational mistake here’.

Others are mind maps. We see a map of Guy Browning’s ego as it was systematically reduced by a ‘North Oxford Girl’. We see his mother’s mental map of the Isle of Wight which places it convincingly somewhere between New Zealand and the Indian Ocean.

The text is ‘laugh-out-loud-funny’ as we follow Guy Browning from his early childhood in Botley to young adulthood. He is almost invariably accompanied by his brother, the ‘Fatted Calf’ who succeeds in all his ventures, while Guy Browning is self-deprecating and frequently fails.

Guy’s father is an Oxford don who believes in subjecting his family to long marches. Gentle fun is poked at his inability to acquire a real car for the family or to give house-room to a television set once the boys have reached secondary school age. Each of these situations, and dozens more, is the source of a humorous anecdote, as the family moves around the world on sabbaticals or holiday trips.

This is a delightful comic read by a very amusing writer. Guy Browning also writes for the Guardian.

Niccolò Ammaniti’s I’m Not Scared is exciting from start to finish.  Michele Amitrano is nine years old and exploring the countryside around his tiny Italian community on his treasured bicycle when he discovers what he takes to be the corpse of a boy in a pit.

Michele tells nobody but, on a later visit, finds that the boy is alive but unable to explain how he came to be there. We slowly come to understand that he is Milanese, victim of the kidnappings that were rife in the seventies. Most of Michele’s community and even his own family are involved in the attempt to extort money from a rich Milanese family.

Michele himself never totally understands what he is relating, nor does he understand the danger, for himself, of his involvement in the kidnapping. As the story develops, we see how the crime destroys Michele’s own family. The climax is thrilling when Michele decides to act to help Filippo,to escape.

This superbly narrated novel, which has sold more than a million copies in over twenty languages, has been made into a film starring the real inhabitants of an Italian village rather than established stars.

Reading Kate Grenville’s 1999 novel takes you into the heart of a small, inward-looking community out in the sun-baked interior of New South Wales, Australia.

Douglas Cheeseman, an engineer with jug ears and low self-esteem, who cannot stand heights, has come to Karakarook to demolish and replace the quaint bent bridge.

Harley Savage is homely, middle-aged and suffering from the effects of her third husband’s suicide. She is in Karakarook to establish the heritage museum. Clearly their paths will converge. The Idea of Perfection suggests that two weaknesses can, together, build a strength.

They meet in a variety of delightful situations – this is an enchanting love story of two endearing characters who restore each other’s self esteem. Not the least endearing character in the novel is the stray dog who is determined to be adopted by Harley.

Another highly amusing  but very sad thread of the story follows Felicity Porcelline, the bank manager’s wife, who is convinced that the Chinese butcher has a passion for her. The whole story of this dusty, remote little town’s fight for its bridge and creation of its heritage museum is beautifully told.

Kate Grenville can really write. This was a deserving winner of the 2001 Orange Prize for Fiction. It would make a first rate addition to the Christmas gifts for anyone who would like a happy novel to lighten up gloomy winter days.

Attractively bound hard-backed books containing lots of information seem to be big sellers among the piles laid out for Christmas. E: Foley and B. Coates ‘Homework for Grown-ups – everything you learnt at school … and promptly forgot’ is yet another in the series.

I received my copy as a gift and dipped into it rather casually at first. I was soon thoroughly enjoying some of the masses of information the book provides. It is embarrassing to get halfway through each chapter and confront ones own ignorance. In mathematics, for example, I got as far as a decagon but what is an icosagon?

Homework for Grown-ups

This is a treasure of a compendium of facts we like to think we know. It deals with English, Mathematics, Home Economics, History, Science, Religious Education, Geography, Classics, Physical Education and Art – a fine rounded education. (’Whose history?’ I hear you ask. There’s an eclectic dabble including Marathon, Yarmuk, Agincourt and the Somme.)

Homework for Grown-ups is certainly a useful book to have around if you need to know where your pancreas is or the name of a Greek letter. There are even test papers at the end of each chapter. My only criticism is that the authors didn’t provide an index of all that useful information.

Last week’s events in Mumbai have a horribly familiar ring. Ann Patchett, in her Orange

Bel Canto

Prize winning Bel Canto, published by 4th Estate in 2002, created a scenario that began and ended in much the same way.

In Bel Canto, a poor Latin American country has hosted a gathering in the hope of promoting trade.  They have invited an opera diva to perform for the a Japanese company CEO. The Vice President’s home is the scene of the soirée and of the terrorist attack.

The President, target of the attack, has stayed at home to watch his favourite soap so, when large numbers of armed terrorists invade the building, the scene is set for weeks of siege with negotiation taking place outside.

The highly-armed, angry, relatively impoverished terrorists move into uncomfortable co-existence with the well-heeled international reception guests. Up to this point, the novel has moved fast, but now we live with the terrorists and victims. Relationships develop and a kind of mutual understanding – even love affairs.

We are reminded of Patty Hearst’s involvement with the Symbionese Liberation Army as we follow the reasoning of some of these uncultivated terrorists who have uncompromising attitudes towards their captives and little to lose. However, we, the readers, know that there is no way out for the terrorists.

A short epilogue seems out of place – the readers did not want the wedding that takes place – still, this is a feeling examination of terrorist and hostage mentality.

Haruki Murakami’s After Dark maintains the promise of its title as it takes us, minute by minute, through the chilling events of a night in Tokyo. We sit with Mari Asai in Denny’s family restaurant until she is involved in a discussion with a near stranger.

Takahashi introduces the topic of her sister and we learn, as the night progresses, that lovely Eri Asai has been sleeping for two months. We visit her room and observe a sinister form of surveillance.

Mari’s competence in Chinese leads her to involve herself in the rescue of a Chinese prostitute who has been brutally beaten, and we subsequently see the evil perpetrator in his office. We understand that he is, in some way, involved in Eri Asai’s deliberate choice of deep sleep.

Takahashi is clearly attracted to Mari and their relationship, as the night progresses, leads her to better understand how she can help her sleeping sister. As the night progresses towards first light, we are really drawn into the fate of all of these characters.

Jay Rubin’s translation, in Vintage, is so flawless that there are never moments when we realise we are reading a text that was originally written in Japanese. The prose and pace are both such as to render this an exciting novel to read.