THE SUNDAY PHILOSOPHY CLUB by Alex McCall Smith

what, was this guy paid by the word? because it took him 247 pages to tell a story that only took about 60 pages to tell, and i am being generous.

so a 40 year old scottish lady sees a guy fall to his death. fine, no big deal. but this is supposed to be a murder mystery, and it takes another twenty or more pages until the main character figures out that she is involved in a murder mystery. *I* know she is involved, *You* know she is involved, it's right there on the fucking book cover, why does it take so damn long to get to it?

then, as if that is not bad enough, the next hundred or so pages has the story moving along slightly slower than an iceberg drifting across a lake with no wind. finally, the story picks up in the last 50 pages and gets over with.

so what had been going on the whole time? some freind of the main character's love life story, which has absolutely nothing to do with the main story at all. it's like Smith wanted to write two short stories and decided to meld them into one story, or like he needed padding for his main story, which is supposed to be a murder mystery, but turns out to be a big boring drawn out waste of time.

the ending seems like Smith figures he dragged the thing on long enough, and is resolved in one page. BAM. just like that.

oh, and as for the "philosophy" part of it, it is just for background coloring, really has nothing to do with anything, and it looks like Smith read "Kant for beginners" to get a few ideas to throw in to the story. the main character happens to edit a philosphy zine or something.

i dont' care how wonderful the no. 1 african ladies detective agency (or whatever) is (and really, is there a lot of detecting needed in botswana or the kalihari desert?) this book is boring. dull and boring. and i have no desire to read anything else by this guy. i know everyone has a bad day and all that, but this soured me on him. each sentence of this book is a perfectly good sentance, but they don't link up to make a good story. they don't quite fit right, there is no flow. and actually, maybe it's me, but the meter and dialogue seemed a bit off, as if this was translated or something.

i didnt' like it. maybe if you like tepid, tame, quaint stories that take thier time, like a slow train through the countryside with a milquetoast view, than this is right up your alley. i wouldn't reccommend it though, you would spend your time better reading an agatha christie book and "Kant for beginners."