Mystery
![Alexander McCall Smith - [object Object] author](https://res.cloudinary.com/readsomnia/image/upload/authors/a_B001BOPZXG.jpg)
The Joy and Light Bus Company: No. 1 Ladies' Detective Agency (22) (No. 1 Ladies' Detective Agency Series)
In this latest installment in the beloved No. 1 Ladies' Detective Agency series, Mma Ramotswe is tempted to put the brakes on a business venture before it even gets rolling.
"McCall Smith is a master .... There's beauty and revelation of one kind or another woven expertly into every line." -The Christian Science Monitor
Mr. J.L.B. Matekoni attends a course hosted by the local chamber of commerce entitled "Where Is Your Business Going?" But rather than feeling energized, he comes back in low spirits, unsure how to grow the already venerable and successful Tlokweng Road Speedy Motors. Then an old friend from school approaches him about a new business venture that could be just the ticket. When it turns out he will need to mortgage his property in order to pursue this endeavor, Mma Ramotswe and Mma Makutsi wonder what this will mean for his current business-as well as their own.
Even as she puzzles over mysteries on the domestic front, Mma Ramotswe's professional duties must take precedence. When a concerned son learns that his aging father's nurse now stands to inherit the family home, he begins to doubt her intentions and takes his case to Botswana's premier detective agency. Fortunately, Mma Ramotswe and Mma Makutsi are committed agents of justice and agree to investigate.
Tricky as these matters may be, Mma Ramotswe knows that the most creative solutions are often found with the support of loving friends and family. Working together over a cup of red bush tea, she and Mma Makutsi will rely on their tact, humor, and goodwill to ensure that all involved find the happiness that they deserve.
"McCall Smith is a master .... There's beauty and revelation of one kind or another woven expertly into every line." -The Christian Science Monitor
Mr. J.L.B. Matekoni attends a course hosted by the local chamber of commerce entitled "Where Is Your Business Going?" But rather than feeling energized, he comes back in low spirits, unsure how to grow the already venerable and successful Tlokweng Road Speedy Motors. Then an old friend from school approaches him about a new business venture that could be just the ticket. When it turns out he will need to mortgage his property in order to pursue this endeavor, Mma Ramotswe and Mma Makutsi wonder what this will mean for his current business-as well as their own.
Even as she puzzles over mysteries on the domestic front, Mma Ramotswe's professional duties must take precedence. When a concerned son learns that his aging father's nurse now stands to inherit the family home, he begins to doubt her intentions and takes his case to Botswana's premier detective agency. Fortunately, Mma Ramotswe and Mma Makutsi are committed agents of justice and agree to investigate.
Tricky as these matters may be, Mma Ramotswe knows that the most creative solutions are often found with the support of loving friends and family. Working together over a cup of red bush tea, she and Mma Makutsi will rely on their tact, humor, and goodwill to ensure that all involved find the happiness that they deserve.
Editorial Reviews
Praise for Alexander McCall Smith's The Joy and Light Bus Company:
"Comfort-food reading, and never more welcome." -Kirkus Reviews
"Comfort-food reading, and never more welcome." -Kirkus Reviews
Readers Top Reviews
beachsmoresSherrill
This entire series of the # 1 Ladies’ Detective Agency is delightful. This book is no different. Told with love and joy by a generous author.
Judy Mc
What a great story this and every time. When I read the stories there are always great lessons. And I love Precious more and more. I can never get enough of No 1 Ladies Detective Agency. This particular story is about relationships, changing opinions and trust. Kind Botswana people winning out in the end.
esmart
Life lessons abound ......Life and humankind examined in a most delightful read.....just like the author says: there is nothing more significant in this life than old friends---and Precious Ramatswe and her associates and family are priceless old friends to all who enjoy reading The Number One Ladies Detective Agency series......please write more soon!
Kindle reader
These books are a treasure of wisdom ,philosophy, and a he!ping of old African tradition. There is always the the main characters whom we love. But also instruction in humanity, so even if you think philosophy is boring and to much thought process is going on in the storyline its quite interesting how the author makes you think of the underlying meaning of people's motives. So the plot is simple but the messages are contemplative , Of course you're learning as you join the number one women's detective agency. Such fun.
P. W. Peterson
This series of books continues to show us all how love is made up of small, everyday kindnesses, of generosity of spirit, of steadfast benevolence. Written with humor and insight. Thanks, AMS!
Short Excerpt Teaser
CHAPTER ONE
Past Tense Men
IT WAS A QUESTION to which Mma Ramotswe, like many women in Botswana, and indeed like many women in so many other places, gave more than occasional thought. It was not that she dwelt on it all the time; it was not even that it occupied her mind much of the time, but it was certainly something that she thought about now and then, especially when she was sitting on her verandah in the first light of the morning, looking out at the acacia tree on the other side of the road, in which two Cape doves, long in love, cooed endearments to one another, while for her part she sipped at her first cup of red bush tea, not in any hurry to do whatever it was that she had to do next. That, of course, is always a good time to think-when you know that you are going to have to do something, but you know that you do not have to do it just yet.
The question she occasionally thought about-the question in question, so to speak-was not a particularly complicated one, and could be expressed in a few simple words, namely: How do you keep men happy? Of course, Mma Ramotswe knew that there were those who considered this to be a very old-fashioned question, almost laughable, and there were even those who became markedly indignant at the assumptions that lurked behind such an enquiry. Mma Ramotswe, although a traditional woman in some respects, also considered herself modern in others, and understood very well that women were not placed on this earth simply to look after men. There were unfortunately still men who seemed to hold that view-they had not entirely disappeared-but they were fewer in number, she was happy to observe, and nobody paid much attention to them any longer. These men were called past-tense men by Mma Makutsi, Mma Ramotswe's friend and colleague-a vivid, if perhaps slightly unkind expression. If any man expressed such sentiments today, Mma Ramotswe reflected, he would have to face phalanxes of angry women challenging him in no uncertain terms. Mma Makutsi would not tolerate attitudes like that, and no man would get away with speaking like that within her earshot. And Mma Makutsi's hearing, for this and other purposes, was known to be particularly acute.
"Grace Makutsi can hear an ant walking across the ground," Mma Ramotswe had once observed to Mr. J.L.B. Matekoni. "At least, I am told she can."
Mr. J.L.B. Matekoni had looked incredulous. "I do not think so, Mma," he said. "Ants do not make much noise when they are walking. I think that even other ants do not hear them all that well. I'm not even sure if ants have ears, Mma."
Mma Ramotswe had smiled. She had not meant her remark to be taken literally, but Mr. J.L.B. Matekoni often took things at face value and was not as receptive to metaphor as he might be. This could be owing to the fact that he was a mechanic, and mechanics tended to think in a practical way, or it could just be the way his particular mind worked-it was hard to tell. But even as she smiled at his response, she found herself wondering whether it was true that ants made no noise. She had always imagined that they did-at least when there were enough of them engaged in the sort of joint activity that ants sometimes embarked upon, when they moved in an orderly column, like an army on the march, shifting any blades of dry grass or grains of sand that got in their way. Even tiny ants, acting together in such numbers, could be heard to make a rustling sound, as they went about their unfathomable business. And of course there were enough monuments to that business in those places where ants erected their extraordinary mud towers. Those were astonishing creations-high, tapering piles of hardened mud, red-brown on fresh creation but, when old and weathered, as grey as a long-felled branch or tree-trunk. There must have been some noise in the making of those strange, vertical ant cities, even if there was usually nobody to hear it.
But now she was thinking of that other question-that of how to keep men contented. It was, she thought, a good idea to keep men happy, just as it was a good idea to keep women happy. Both sexes, she thought, might give some thought to the happiness of the other. She knew that there were some women who did not care much about men, and who would not be bothered too much if there were large numbers of discontented men, but she did not think that way herself. Such women, she thought, were every bit as selfish as those men who seemed not to care about the happiness of women. We should all care about each other, she felt, and it made no difference whether an unhappy person was a man or a woman. Any unhappiness, in anybody at all, was a shame. It was as simple as that: it was a...
Past Tense Men
IT WAS A QUESTION to which Mma Ramotswe, like many women in Botswana, and indeed like many women in so many other places, gave more than occasional thought. It was not that she dwelt on it all the time; it was not even that it occupied her mind much of the time, but it was certainly something that she thought about now and then, especially when she was sitting on her verandah in the first light of the morning, looking out at the acacia tree on the other side of the road, in which two Cape doves, long in love, cooed endearments to one another, while for her part she sipped at her first cup of red bush tea, not in any hurry to do whatever it was that she had to do next. That, of course, is always a good time to think-when you know that you are going to have to do something, but you know that you do not have to do it just yet.
The question she occasionally thought about-the question in question, so to speak-was not a particularly complicated one, and could be expressed in a few simple words, namely: How do you keep men happy? Of course, Mma Ramotswe knew that there were those who considered this to be a very old-fashioned question, almost laughable, and there were even those who became markedly indignant at the assumptions that lurked behind such an enquiry. Mma Ramotswe, although a traditional woman in some respects, also considered herself modern in others, and understood very well that women were not placed on this earth simply to look after men. There were unfortunately still men who seemed to hold that view-they had not entirely disappeared-but they were fewer in number, she was happy to observe, and nobody paid much attention to them any longer. These men were called past-tense men by Mma Makutsi, Mma Ramotswe's friend and colleague-a vivid, if perhaps slightly unkind expression. If any man expressed such sentiments today, Mma Ramotswe reflected, he would have to face phalanxes of angry women challenging him in no uncertain terms. Mma Makutsi would not tolerate attitudes like that, and no man would get away with speaking like that within her earshot. And Mma Makutsi's hearing, for this and other purposes, was known to be particularly acute.
"Grace Makutsi can hear an ant walking across the ground," Mma Ramotswe had once observed to Mr. J.L.B. Matekoni. "At least, I am told she can."
Mr. J.L.B. Matekoni had looked incredulous. "I do not think so, Mma," he said. "Ants do not make much noise when they are walking. I think that even other ants do not hear them all that well. I'm not even sure if ants have ears, Mma."
Mma Ramotswe had smiled. She had not meant her remark to be taken literally, but Mr. J.L.B. Matekoni often took things at face value and was not as receptive to metaphor as he might be. This could be owing to the fact that he was a mechanic, and mechanics tended to think in a practical way, or it could just be the way his particular mind worked-it was hard to tell. But even as she smiled at his response, she found herself wondering whether it was true that ants made no noise. She had always imagined that they did-at least when there were enough of them engaged in the sort of joint activity that ants sometimes embarked upon, when they moved in an orderly column, like an army on the march, shifting any blades of dry grass or grains of sand that got in their way. Even tiny ants, acting together in such numbers, could be heard to make a rustling sound, as they went about their unfathomable business. And of course there were enough monuments to that business in those places where ants erected their extraordinary mud towers. Those were astonishing creations-high, tapering piles of hardened mud, red-brown on fresh creation but, when old and weathered, as grey as a long-felled branch or tree-trunk. There must have been some noise in the making of those strange, vertical ant cities, even if there was usually nobody to hear it.
But now she was thinking of that other question-that of how to keep men contented. It was, she thought, a good idea to keep men happy, just as it was a good idea to keep women happy. Both sexes, she thought, might give some thought to the happiness of the other. She knew that there were some women who did not care much about men, and who would not be bothered too much if there were large numbers of discontented men, but she did not think that way herself. Such women, she thought, were every bit as selfish as those men who seemed not to care about the happiness of women. We should all care about each other, she felt, and it made no difference whether an unhappy person was a man or a woman. Any unhappiness, in anybody at all, was a shame. It was as simple as that: it was a...
