I will admit that the main reason I like these books is because I want to live the life of its main character, Isabel Dalhousie, only substituting my own family for hers. I would take her full-time housekeeper; her town house filled with the kind of art I like (eclectic mix of historical stuff, landscapes, and some modern) and offering lots of good places to read and a very comfy kitchen to eat in; I would take her overgrown garden complete with fox and rhododendrons; I would take her job as owner and editor of a journal devoted to the philosophy of applied ethics (whether and how to be a good person); and I would take her money, plenty of it to live very comfortably and not too much to be a burden.

I also really like the character of Isabel very much: she is my kind of person, extremely thoughtful and kind, interested in art and music but even more curious about the personalities behind the faces of artists, musicians, lawyers, bankers, housekeepers, pest controllers, and anyone else she meets.  She is a woman who feels obligated to help others and to connect to others.  She is no push-over and is quite willing to state her own opinions strongly, as well as being open-minded enough to change her views when presented with strong arguments for doing so.  She is smart, funny, and despite her very serious nature when it comes to questions of moral philosophy, she never takes herself too seriously, and neither does McCall Smith. Isabel is not necessarily a very real or deeply probed character  — nor are any of the characters in the book — but she is a comforting one, an archetype of moral strength, a brainy do-gooder, and an optimistic, and compassionate heroine.

And I like how McCall Smith just smothers his books in exactly the kind of random thoughts a person could have, especially a person as intrigued by the whys and wherefores of human activity as Isabel is. In The Lost Art of GratitudeIsabel contemplates many philosophical issues, but  — you guessed it — gratitude is the focal point.  There are ruminations on feeling grateful for life, grateful for circumstances (Isabel hits the nail on the head when she describes place of birth as the first and the biggest lottery: it was “the one that determined what we were….a culture, a language, a set of genes determining complexion, height, susceptibility to disease….for most people that was their fate…“),  and grateful for the gestures and efforts of others. Gratitude brings on a questioning of God: Isabel and her  significant-other discuss whether the proof of God is in the beauty of life: I am not convinced but I always support the recognition of life’s offerings of beautiful moments. Isabel also takes on the morality of “free riders“, those who benefit from society but never feel the reciprocity that gratitude for such benefits should invoke: such people never participate in  civic duties of voting or volunteering (this will ring a bell for all those who see the same parents volunteering over and over again for school activities  — where is everyone else?) or participation in other types of community-supporting activities.  They take “the benefit of collective action without contributing in turn.” For Isabel, such a philosophy was just “unadulterated selfishness” and that is one more reason for me to like her, because she calls it like she sees it:  “an example of the individualistic posturing that had once been so fashionable and had encouraged greed and economic disaster.”

In The Lost Art of Gratitude Isabel also delves into the question of “does creative work matter?” One morning when she looks out the window at the tempting beauty of the day and then contemplates the day of work that awaits her, she wonders if it is worth it, giving up the sun outdoors to remain inside working on her philosophy journal:  “Did it change the world one iota?  Did it make the faintest difference to anyone?“  She thinks on about the question:  “Everything, every human activity that went beyond the purely functional, could be challenged….painting, music, drama.  And yet all of these  made a difference — a major difference in many cases.“  Finally, she decides that “philosophy really did count: it set out the major choices behind all those practical day-to-day questions of charity and understanding and simple decency….”

What I find so wonderful about great books — novels, short stories, nonfiction narratives and histories — is that they bring philosophy out to all of us who don’t ponder Hume and Hobbes and Epictetus but who, through wonderful characters and engaging plots, explore and examine the same questions of “charity and understanding and simple decency“, of what makes a good life, what is one’s duty to others, what is the purpose and meaning and direction and endpoint of life and what do we leave behind, where do we go, what will we regret, and what will we always be grateful for experiencing, knowing, loving.  The big questions are out there in the great literature and my goals this year have been to make a path of discovery through literature from all over the world, of all types of genres, and to share what I find with other book lovers, spreading around the pleasure and the discoveries that great books offer, and to inspire the occasional reader into becoming a book lover, addicted to reading. There are a lot of great books out there — just take a quick look over my list of Great Books — and in those books there is so much to think about, so much to enjoy or to experience, and so much to be grateful for.