The Charming Quirks of Others - Alexander McCall Smith

The Charming Quirks of Others is the seventh novel in the Isabel Dalhousie series, a series which is also known as the Sunday Philosophy Club series, although I don't think the Sunday Philosophy Club ever really existed. I should probably declare my hand early - I love this series. I haven't read any other books by McCall Smith, not even the first para of the acclaimed No 1 Ladies' Detective Agency series. And I don't think I want to, not at the moment anyway. But I do adore Isabel Dalhousie, even when she's driving me crazy.

The Sunday Philosophy Club came into my life accidentally. Three years ago, a friend sent me the first two books - The Sunday Philosophy Club and Friends, Lovers, Chocolates - when I was facing a long period of illness. They proved to be the perfect antidote - gentle, thoughtful, philosophical, humourous, engaging and slightly romantic. They are also set in Edinburgh, a city I've had a long love affair with. It began with a short acquaintance during my first overseas trip and continued through the pages of novels, mostly Ian Rankin's Rebus series.

Rebus' Edinburgh, of course, is pretty gritty. It's the Edinburgh of pubs and pool halls, council estates that brush against historical sites, the crime scene and the morgue. Isabel Dalhousie's Edinburgh is far more genteel. Hers is the Edinburgh of concert halls and art galleries and, in this novel, of old schools and Sir Walter Scott's home, Abbotsford. But as in the Rebus novels, the past is never very far from the present and by page 3, Isabel is once again reflecting on the Stuarts.

There's always a bit of a mystery in Isabel's life - philosophically, she can't resist requests for help - but the mystery is really (I suspect) just the excuse, the technical framework on which to hang the story. This time around, Isabel is asked to look into a poison-pen letter.

I don't read Isabel Dalhousie books for the mystery, though. I read to revisit the deli run by Isabel's niece, Cat, where the coffee is always fresh and the Italian newspapers are delivered daily. I read for the gentle, surprising relationship that has developed between Isabel and Cat's former boyfriend, the beautiful Jamie. I read too for the housekeeper, Grace, who believes in the afterlife and goes to 'meetings' to contact the dead. And for the war between Isabel and the deliciously named Lettuce and Dove. Mostly, though, I read for the charm of the writing, for the sheer joy of reading this:

He shook his head. 'You're doing it again. Inventing things. Whole stories now. Making them up.'

She got to her feet. 'But that's what the world is all about, Jamie. Stories. Stories explain everything, bring everything together.'

Stories explain everything.

Winne-the-Pooh: The Complete Collection of Stories and Poems - A. A. Milne

On the first day of the school term, Miles came home from school with a temperature. Tucked up in bed far earlier than usual, he lay pathetically, not quite sick enough to sleep, but not well enough to occupy himself. So I reached for Winnie-the-Pooh and began to read:

Chapter One - In which we are introduced to Winnie-the-Pooh and some Bees, and the stories begin.

In the days since, in between reading the nightly reader, The Very Hungry Caterpillar, Harry and His Bucketful of Dinosaurs on various adventures, and the obligatory books about superheroes, we have read all of Winnie-the-Pooh and The House at Pooh Corner.

Our copy of Pooh was given to Miles by his nanna when he was only 12 days old. When he was tiny, I'd sit him in his bouncer and read the poems that make up the second half of the book. Vespers, Disobedience, Lines and Squares, Hoppity. They are poems that echoed through my childhood. Recited at night, rehearsed in elocution lessons, enjoyed for their rhythm and rhyme. I think I probably used them to learn how to talk to my tiny baby, to begin what I hope will be a very long conversation.

This time, we concentrated on the first half of the book and read about Pooh, Piglet, Tigger, Roo, Kanga, Rabbit, Eeyore and, of course, Christopher Robin.

So, now I have to confess that this is the first time I have read the original Pooh the entire way through. I remember trying to read the books when I was about nine. But stories about animals, particularly talking animals, didn't do it for me. I was an Anne of Green Gables/Little Women kind of girl. Talking animals - pass. This time around, I finally fell in love with A. A. Milne's creation, his 'bear of little brain', and shucked off the influences of Disney.

And guess what? In E.H. Shepherd's original illustrations, Pooh isn't wearing a red t-shirt (although when he walks through the snow 'tiddley-pom', he's wearing a red vest). And Piglet isn't all pink. As Miles spotted first, Piglet is actually green around his middle.

And although you are likely to love Pooh best when you are about the same age as Christopher Robin, A. A. Milne's word games are for grown-ups. Perhaps this isn't surprising. Milne described his first collection of children's poems as 'a curious collection: some for children, some about children, some by, with or from children'. A similar statement can be made for the Pooh stories: some are for children, some are about children, some are inspired by children (or his only child, Christopher Robin).

Milne published four books for children between 1924 and 1927. And that was it. I guess Christopher grew up and his dad didn't have anything more to say to small folk. Instead, he wrote plays, adult fiction and was a regular contributor to Punch magazine. Today, it's the children's books we love him for.

Reading with Miles enabled us both to discover the Hundred Acre Wood. Stories I thought I knew - care of Disney - have been rediscovered. Tigger still bounces. Pooh tries to float like a small black cloud to trick the bees. Eeyore has a birthday and mopes. But the playfulness of the language brings the characters we think we know so well to life in a new way. And we discover that Pooh doesn't have such a small brain after all.

The greatest discoveries for me, though, were the dedications. Both Pooh books are dedicated to Milne's wife, Christopher's mother. They are loving offerings to the woman who inspired the writer. Listen to the first:

To Her

Hand in hand we come

Christopher Robin and I

To lay this book in your lap.

Say you're surprised?

Say you like it?

Say it's just what you wanted?

Because it's yours -

Because we love you.

Beautiful. Like the stories of Pooh.

Looking for a copy? Try The Book Depository.

See also: Beatrix Potter to Harry Potter: Portraits of Children's Writers by Julia Eccleshare, National Portrait Gallery, London, 2002.