|
|
Loading... | 4,000 | 73 | 2,905 | 
(3.89) | 111 | There is considerable excitement at The No. 1 Ladies' Detective Agency. A cobra has been found in Precious Ramotswe's office. Then a nurse from a local clinic reveals that faulty blood-pressure readings are being recorded. And Botswana has a new advice columnist, Aunty Emang, whose advice is rather curt for Mma Ramotswe's taste. All this means a lot of work for our heroine and her assistant, Grace Makutsi. But there's trouble brewing in Mma Makutsi's own life. When Phuti Radiphuti misses their customary dinner date, she begins to wonder if he is having second thoughts about their engagement. And while Mma Makutsi may be able to buy that fashionably narrow (and uncomfortable) pair of blue shoes, it may not buy her the happiness that Mma Ramotswe promises her she'll find in the simpler things--in contentment with the world and enough tea to smooth over the occasional bumps in the road.--From publisher description.… (more) |
▾LibraryThing Recommendations ▾Will you like it?
Loading...
 Sign up for LibraryThing to find out whether you'll like this book. ▾Conversations (About links) No current Talk conversations about this book. » See also 111 mentions ▾Series and work relationships
|
|
| Canonical title |
|
| Original title |
|
| Alternative titles |
|
| Original publication date |
|
| People/Characters |
|
| Important places |
|
| Important events |
|
| Related movies |
|
| Epigraph |
|
| Dedication |
This book is for
Bernard Ditau in Botswana
and Kenneth and Pravina King in Scotland  | |
|
| First words |
When you are just the right age, as Mma Ramotswe was, and when you have seen a lot of life, as Mma Ramotswe certainly had, then there are some things that you just know. | |
|
| Quotations |
"We are all human beings," Mma Ramotswe had once observed to Mma Makutsi, "and human beings can't really help themselves. Have you noticed that, Mma? We can't really help ourselves from doing things that land us in all sorts of trouble." One day, when he retired, they would move out to a village, perhaps to Mochudi, and find land to plough and cattle to tend. Then at last there would be time to sit outside on the stoep with Mma Ramotswe and watch the life of the village unfold before them. That would be a good way of spending such days as remained to one; in peace, happy, among the people and cattle of home. It would be good to die among one's cattle, he thought, with their sweet breath on one's face and their dark, gentle eyes watching right up to the end of one's journey, right up to the edge of the river. And where would we be in a world without the old Botswana morality? It would not work, in Mma Ramotswe's view, because it would mean that people could do as they wished without regard for what others thought. That would be a recipe for selfishness, a recipe as clear as if it were written out in a cookery book: Take one country, with all that the country means, with its kind people, and their smiles, and their habit of helping one another; ignore all this; shake about; add modern ideas; bake until ruined. All about them there were well-dressed crowds, people with money in their pockets, people buying for homes that were slowly beginning to reflect Botswana's prosperity. It had all been earned, every single pula of it, in a world in which it is hard enough to make something of one's country, in a world of selfish and distant people who took one's crops at rock-bottom prices and wrote the rules to suit themselves. There were plenty of fine words, of course—and lots of these came from Africa itself—but at the end of the day the poor, the people who lived in Africa, so often had nothing to show for their labours, nothing. And that was not because they did not work hard—they did, they did—but because of something that was wrong which made it so difficult to get anywhere, no matter how hard they tried. One should not hold a grudge against another, [the old Botswana morality] said, because to harbor grudges was to disturb the social peace, the bond between people. | |
|
| Last words |
And in her mind's eye she saw the winding paths of Mochudi, and the cattle pens, and the small walled-off plot of ground where a modest stone bore the inscription, Obed Ramotswe. And beside the stone there were wild flowers growing, small flowers of such beauty and perfection that they broke the heart. They broke the heart. (Click to show. Warning: May contain spoilers.) | |
|
| Disambiguation notice |
|
| Publisher's editors |
|
| Blurbers |
|
| Original language |
|
| Canonical DDC/MDS |
|
| Canonical LCC |
|
▾References References to this work on external resources.  Wikipedia in English (2)
▾Book descriptions There is considerable excitement at The No. 1 Ladies' Detective Agency. A cobra has been found in Precious Ramotswe's office. Then a nurse from a local clinic reveals that faulty blood-pressure readings are being recorded. And Botswana has a new advice columnist, Aunty Emang, whose advice is rather curt for Mma Ramotswe's taste. All this means a lot of work for our heroine and her assistant, Grace Makutsi. But there's trouble brewing in Mma Makutsi's own life. When Phuti Radiphuti misses their customary dinner date, she begins to wonder if he is having second thoughts about their engagement. And while Mma Makutsi may be able to buy that fashionably narrow (and uncomfortable) pair of blue shoes, it may not buy her the happiness that Mma Ramotswe promises her she'll find in the simpler things--in contentment with the world and enough tea to smooth over the occasional bumps in the road.--From publisher description. ▾Library descriptions No library descriptions found. ▾LibraryThing members' description |
Current DiscussionsNone Google Books — Loading... Swap (14 have, 63 want) |
)
2