If literary fiction held a beauty pageant, "The Good Mayor" would waltz off with the Miss Congeniality prize. It's the niche-bending first novel by Scottish journalist Andrew Nicoll -- a whimsical fable with spot-on, tongue-in-cheek observations about the hang-ups that human nature so abundantly provides on the way to happily-ever-after. Think "Pride and Prejudice" set in a nameless Baltic country, where our fumbling, likable hero serves as the mayor of Dot -- a city aside the Ampersand River, rival of neighboring Umlaut.
His daily office routine starts like this: lying on the floor in order to peek under the door to his secretary's office as she removes her galoshes and slips her excruciatingly alluring, plump pink toes into her sandals. Then he gets up, brushes off the carpet lint, and starts dictating letters, scared to death to approach her with the dictates of his heart. (Besides, she's married, albeit most unhappily, to the town's boor.)
Agathe, the lady in question, requites his unspoken passion, but can only wait so long -- and we're off and running with a tale that's rich with witty social observations, yet never patronizing, always buoyed by warmth and cheer and darn good writing. The sheets do get steamy in a few luscious scenes that would make Austen blanch, but her book club fans will love it.
CARLA WALDEMAR
