CORDUROY MANSIONS - Book 3
In the Corduroy Mansions series of novels, set in London’s hip Pimlico neighborhood, we meet a cast of charming eccentrics, including perhaps the world’s most clever terrier, who make their home in a handsome, though slightly dilapidated, apartment block.
The universe seems to be conspiring against Freddie de la Hay and his neighbors at Corduroy Mansions, as they all struggle with their nearest and dearest in this captivating third installment of Alexander McCall Smith’s London series.
Berthea Snark is still at work on a scathing biography of her son, Oedipus, the only loathsome Liberal Democrat Member of Parliament; literary agents Rupert Porter and Barbara Ragg are in a showdown for first crack at the Autobiography of a Yeti manuscript; fine arts graduate Caroline Jarvis is exploring the blurry line between friendship and romance; and William French is worrying that his son, Eddie, will never leave home, even with Eddie’s new, wealthy girlfriend in the picture. But foremost in everyone’s mind is William’s faithful dog, Freddie de la Hay, who has disappeared while on a mystery tour of the Suffolk countryside. Will Freddie find his way home, or will Corduroy Mansions be left without its beloved mascot?
About the Author
Alexander McCall Smith is also the author of the No. 1 Ladies’ Detective Agency series, the Isabel Dalhousie series, the Portuguese Irregular Verbs series and the 44 Scotland Street series. He is professor emeritus of medical law at the University of Edinburgh in Scotland and has served with many national and international organizations concerned with bioethics. He lives in Scotland. Visit him at www.alexandermccallsmith.com.
Date of Birth:August 24, 1948
Place of Birth:Zimbabwe
Read an Excerpt
1. The Only Unpleasant Liberal Democrat
Oedipus Snark had a number of distinctions in this life. The first of these—and perhaps the most remarkable—was that he was, by common consent, the only truly nasty Liberal Democrat Member of Parliament. This was not just an accolade bestowed upon him by journalists in search of an amusing soubriquet, it was a judgement agreed upon by all those who knew him, including, most notably, his mother. Berthea Snark, a well-known psychoanalyst who lived in a small, undistinguished mews house behind Corduroy Mansions, had tried very hard to love her son, but had eventually given up, thus joining that minuscule group—mothers who cannot abide their sons. So rare is the phenomenon, and so willing are most mothers to forgive their sons any shortcoming, that this demographic—that is to say, in English, these people—is completely ignored by marketeers. And that, as we all know, is the real test of significance. If marketeers ignore you, you are not worth bothering about; you are nothing; you are—to put it brutally—a nondemographic.
So intense was Berthea’s distaste for her son that she had once seriously contemplated arranging a DNA test to see whether there was any chance that Oedipus had been mixed up with her real infant in hospital and given to the wrong mother. She knew that this was clutching at straws, but she had read about such errors in a popular psychology magazine and concluded that there was a chance, just a chance, that it had happened to her. The author of the article had for years researched the psychological profile of those who had lived a large part of their life under a false belief as to the identity of their father and had only later discovered the mistake. In the course of discussing this not entirely uncommon problem, the author had casually mentioned two cases of a rather different error, where the woman thought to be mother was discovered not to be mother after all.
One of these cases had been of a boy who had been given by his mother to her sister in an act of generosity. The donor, who had six children already, had decided that her childless sister’s need for a baby was greater than her own and had generously—and not without some relief—donated this seventh child. It had worked to the satisfaction of all, and when the truth slipped out—as the truth sometimes does in spite of our best efforts to conceal it—the reaction of the boy, now a young man of eighteen, had been admirable. There had been no recriminations, or sense of betrayal: he had gone straight to the florist, purchased a large bouquet of flowers and handed it to the woman who he had assumed all those years was his real mother. Love, he had written on the accompanying card, is thicker than blood.
Berthea could not imagine Oedipus doing such a thing. In fact, she found it difficult to remember when her son had last given her a present; not that she held it against him, even if she had noted it as a point that she might at least touch upon in a suitable chapter of the unauthorised biography of him that she was currently writing. And here was the second of his distinctions: there are few, if any, examples of hostile biographies written by mothers. Berthea, though, was well advanced in her plans, and the manuscript of the work provisionally entitled My Son Oedipus was already two hundred and ten typewritten pages long.
Those pages took us only as far as the end of Oedipus’s schooldays. He had been sent to boarding school when he was ten, spending a short time at a very dubious prep school in the West Country before winning a scholarship to Uppingham. The prep school, now closed down by the authorities, was found to be a moneylaundering scheme dreamed up by an Irish racehorse owner; and while the boys were for the most part entirely happy (not surprisingly, given that the headmaster took them to the racetrack three times a week), their education left a great deal to be desired. Oedipus, though, had thrived, and had won the Uppingham scholarship by arranging for another boy at the school, an intellectual prodigy, to impersonate him in the scholarship examination. This had the desired result and brought, rather to the surprise of his mother, an offer of a full scholarship, covering the cost of tuition and boarding.
“I know I’m failing as a mother,” Berthea confessed to a friend at the time. “I’m perfectly aware of that. But, quite frankly, much as I love my son, I’m always relieved when Oedipus goes off to school. I know I shouldn’t feel this, but it’s as if a great load is lifted from my shoulders each time I see him off. I feel somehow liberated.”
“I’m not surprised,” said the friend. “And you mustn’t reproach yourself. Your son is a particularly unpleasant child—I’ve always thought so.”
This verdict on Oedipus was shared by almost all his contemporaries at school. When Berthea had advertised in the school association magazine for “recollections—no matter how frank—of the schooldays of Oedipus Snark, MP,” she had been astonished by the unanimity of opinion.
“I remember Oedipus Snark quite well,” wrote one of her informants. “He was the one we all disliked intensely. I’m sorry to have to tell you this, as I gather that you’re his mother, but we really couldn’t stand the sight of him. What on earth possessed you to have him?”
And there was this from another: “Can you give me his current address? I promise I won’t pass it on to anybody. I just want to know—for my own purposes.”
Of course, Berthea did not pass on her son’s address to that particular correspondent. She did not want Oedipus to meet any physical misfortune; she wanted him simply to be exposed, to be made to confront his shortcomings, to accept responsibility. And was there anything wrong with that? she wondered. Does it make me any the less of a mother for wanting to see justice done?
She had thought long and hard about what it was to be a mother. And from that, inspired by the article she read about disproof of maternity, the idea came to her that there had been a fairly long pause between the point at which Oedipus was taken from her in the maternity ward and the moment he was returned to her bedside. It was, she remembered, at least an hour, and during that time, as a nurse informed her, another three babies had been born.
“We’ve been worked off our feet, Mrs. Snark,” said the nurse. “Four babies in two hours! All of them boys. A population explosion, that’s what it is.” Berthea now thought: four boys, all lying in those tiny cots they put newborn babies in; physically indistinguishable, at that age, one from the other; identified only by a little plastic bracelet which could so easily slip off, be picked up and put on the wrong baby. Surely it could happen. Or was that just wishful thinking?
What People are Saying About This
“A heart-warming read. . . . [and] an excellent tonic for whatever ails you.”
—The Toronto Star
“McCall Smith cooks up a delicious story . . . with a dash of mystery and a dollop of satire. . . . Comfortable, easy, homey.”
—The Washington Post
“Fascinating fare. . . . McCall Smith is by turns hilarious . . . and meditative.”
“Teeming with charm. . . . ample humor and grace.”
“This third volume of Chekhovian soap opera is every bit as addictive as the first two.”
“You cannot beat McCall Smith for subtle musings shot through with insight and wit. His deft characterization enlivens the inner workings of everyday characters. His work offers a heartening view of [the] world.”
—The Daily Telegraph (London)
“[Full] of warmth and wisdom and easy, accomplished writing that begs for a comfy chair.”
—The Times (London)
“Whimsical. . . . McCall Smith specializes in subplots that punctuate the book like polka dots, relying on his considerable literary skills to link them into a merry pattern of human events.”
—The Washington Times
“Quirky and original. . . . Told with warmth, wit and intelligence, and McCall Smith’s cast of characters are beautifully observed.”
Reading Group Guide
The introduction, discussion questions, and suggested further reading that follow are designed to enliven your group’s discussion Alexander McCall Smithr’s latest novel, A Conspiracy of Friends.
1. Booklist, in a starred review of this novel, stated “McCall Smith is by turns hilarious at capturing foibles and meditative about the huge role chance and the plots of others play in our lives.” Do you agree with this assessment of A Conspiracy of Friends? What role does chance and the plots of others have in this novel?
2. This novel, as did the first two in the Corduroy Mansions series, first appeared as a chapter a day in the British newspaper The Telegraph. Does the flow differ in this serial novel than in his more traditional novels (like those in the No. 1 Ladies’ Detective Agency series)? Does it change your reading experience knowing that it was written to be read as a chapter a day?
3. What do you predict will happen in the next volume? Will William and Marcia be together? Will Caroline and Ronald? Hugh and Barbara? What will happen with Oedipus and Terrence and their relationships with Berthea?
4. To what does the title refer? And how is this novel about friendships? Friendship between old friends, new friends, males and females, with animals. Discuss them all.
5. Most of Alexander McCall Smith’s novels are filled with stories, poetry, and literary references. This novel mentions William Butler Yeats and Irish Murdoch, a children’s book about a dog, a graduate thesis, and more. What do you think the author is saying about the importance of stories, books and poetry in our lives?
6. How is Irish Murdoch crucial to the plot of A Conspiracy of Friends? If you’ve read Murdoch, why do you think the author references her over other 20th century authors?
7. What is the importance of and relevance of metaphors in A Conspiracy of Friends?
8. Is William the main character of the novel? He seems to have the most philosophical musings. Or is it Freddie de la Hay?
9. With which character do you most identify? Why?
10. Why does Caroline lie to James? Do you think her lie in this case should be forgiven? How often do you think the average person fibs in a week? What would you have done in Caroline’s predicament? Do we have a moral obligation to lie or tell the truth at times?
11. Why is Oedipus such a “flawed character” that even his own mother doesn’t like him? Is she likeable and believable as his biographer?
12. Discuss Berthea’s relationship with the men in her life, with both her brother and son.
13. Why does Barbara change her mind about Hugh? Does the story Hugh shares reveal traits of his she didn’t previously know he had? Does the story trigger something in Barbara and unearth self-revelations and make her more self-aware?
How does losing Freddie de la Hay and Maggie’s confession drive William to Marcia? Do you think his feelings at the end of the novel are genuine and he’ll learn to love and appreciate her?
15. What does Eddie learn about himself through meeting with and working with Cosmo Bartonette?
16. Do you have any superstitions like Barbara Ragg has? Why do you continue practicing or believing in them?
17. Do you agree with William in believing that most great works of art and beauty stem from religion or faith?
18. What do you think the author is saying about appreciating the small things in life and imposing a sense of purpose to everything we do? Do you believe, as William, and perhaps the author, that everything that happens is a small miracle?
Most Helpful Customer Reviews
The charm of the characters and the witty observations about the way people live combine to make it a very enjoyable read. I certainly hope that we will have more books in this series. The resolutions of some of the tenants' stories make me fear that Smith tied it all up so well that A Conspiracy of Friends may be the conclusion.
Another fun romp with the residents of Corduroy Mansion! I enjoy the easy going series. Just makes you happy to be acquainted with these characters.
I have read all three of the books in this series and absolutely love them. The separate plots keep me interested and entertained and, as an animal lover, I'm always glad to see Freddie de la Hay in action.
Each one is as good as the last. And nobody can pull off dry British humor like Alexander McCAll Smith.
Elegantly and without preaching, and with a lot of genuine wit and humor into the bargain, A. McCall Smith manages to bring to the surface moral dilemmas facing our society today. We do need a dose of A.McCall Smith every now and then. We really do. ( I can't even help using his sentence structure, too!...) Most of his books I place under an unassuming tag "just life", but it's not that his characters and events are predictable, far from that: could you ever imagine, for instance, Oedipus Snark changing his character this drastically (even if it involved an unimaginable freak accident) in the latest Corduroy Mansions installment?!...And how about a dog with a hilarious name Freddie de la Hay fastening his own seat belt in a car (just the image of that would make you smile!)....Those are just a couple of the examples of the writer's truly vivid imagination coupled with the ability of being totally grounded.
Loved them all.
I did not enjoy this book as much as the first two. The first half slogs along and then there are a rapid succession of plot twists that defy belief. It is as though A. M. Smith wants to cross genres and turn this series into science fiction! I join another commentator in my hopes that this fantastical ending was not a quick wrap-up for what I was hoping would be a long and successful series.
I love this book