Book Review: The Sunday Philosophy Club

Several things have thrown a monkey wrench into my morning treadmill routine. My mother-in-law came to visit for Thanksgiving and the treadmill resides in the guest room. Although she doesn't mind vacating to allow me to walk, I let my exercise routine slide a bit over the Thanksgiving holiday and then, due to new carpeting and other sundry complications, I missed several more days. Alas, I am wholly out of sorts and need to get back into the game.

All that to say, my sporadic exercise disjointed my listening experience for Alexander McCall Smith's first book in the Isabel Dalhousie series, The Sunday Philosophy Club. Perhaps that contributed to my lack of enthusiasm for the book. I much prefer the Number One Ladies' Detective Agency books. Isabel was likeable enough, but no Precious Ramotswe.

The action begins immediately when Isabel sees a man fall to his death from a balcony. Struck by the fact that hers was the last face he saw, she feels compelled to investigate the strange circumstances of his death, convinced that someone pushed him. She lures her niece's handsome young ex-boyfriend in to assist with her investigation and must ferret out information about insider trading, financial art investments, and tangled love interests.

Although it was a somewhat engrossing tale, I didn't enjoy certain aspects: discussions of sexual morals, tedious philosophical ruminations, and perhaps most unsettling, the older Isabel's private interest in her niece's ex-boyfriend, Jamie. Moreover, the ending felt weak. I must have listened to another Isabel Dalhousie novel because I was familiar with Isabel and the niece, with her unsuitable selections of male companions. I probably won't seek more of the series, but I imagine true Alexander McCall Smith fans or those interested in both Scotland and philosophy might find the series enticing.