It's one of two books written by Helen Simonson, who needs to get busy and write a third one at the very least. The audiobook is impeccably narrated by Peter Altschuler, who is brilliant. Loved, loved, loved this book. The Major, though British, reminds me a bit of my father, but I suspect the Major's inner monologue is significantly more snarky than my father's. More like my own. Mrs. Ali is a quiet woman who is underestimated and unappreciated by the small village in which she runs the local shop.
Stories about people who find love in their autumn years are not flooding the market. Movies with older actors are generally played for laughs: ah, look at the old people, aren't they silly ... or sweet ... or irrelevant ... or whatever.
This brought back a lot of good memories for me, from when Beloved and I were first getting to know one another, through courtship, and during our one precious year as man and wife. The parallel between the hunting lodge in the book and the bed and breakfast where we honeymooned. The time or two that Mrs. Ali caused the Major to blush. My memories of saying something unexpected to Beloved and watching his ears turn red. And vice versa.
What else am I reading, you ask? Reading Lolita in Tehran in paperback. I'm starting to get a feel for the author's voice. I think I've mentioned that I bought this book when I moved to Fort Worth in 2008, and it's been waiting patiently for me to become interested in it, ever since. Tomorrow I'll begin listening to I have Been Buried Under Years of Dust: A Memoir of Autism and Hope.
But for now I'm firing up the next episode of House, and then I am going to bed.
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