View from this book:
Reading and frolicking in the summertime of 2012.
Having lived for a year (well, eight months, but who’s counting?) on Mallorca, I’m happy to read about my temporary home. This book was written by a Scottish chap who, along with his wife and two teenage sons, bought a small finca on Mallorca with the intention of settling down. He narrates charmingly the family’s first summer on Mallorca, although with the amount of anecdotes supplied in order to make this book readable, I’d imagine that a lot more summers’ adventures were condensed into this particular literary-worthy emblematic summer.
If you haven’t lived on Mallorca, then I’m not sure how you’ll react to Mañana, Mañana. A lot of the “hilarious” stories weren’t actually funny, and a lot of the book’s inherent quirkiness depends on your being able to nod sagely along with the author because you, too, have encountered old Mallorcan women on your walk home every day. (Although, some reviewers apparently thought it was better than A Year in Provence, which similarly details an Englishman’s settling into southern France. So, if you’re into expat-living-with-charming-natives narratives, then this might be your cup of tea, whether you know anything about the island or not). Apart from the author’s rather terrible mallorquín, the book gave a loving and accurate portrayal of Mallorca about a decade ago, and I loved reading about bits of the island that I’d learned to treasure. 6 out of 10.