My Italian Bulldozer is the fourth stand-alone novel by popular British author, Alexander McCall Smith. After food writer Paul Stuart’s girlfriend of four years leaves him for her personal trainer, his editor, Gloria suggests he do some on-the-ground research into his next (somewhat overdue) book. Three weeks in Tuscany, in the small hill town of Montalcino should surely help him restart his life. But a mix-up at the airport’s car rental office initially lands him, alarmingly, in some trouble, but eventually sees him driving a bulldozer to his alpine albergo.

So begins another delightful tale by the master of the gentle philosophical story. The plot has more than a few surprises; the characters are charming and quirky; their dialogue often carries pearls of wisdom. McCall Smith has his characters musing on a myriad of topics: the importance of really listening; how history shapes populations; biological determinism; futurism; love and heartbreak.

Examples of this: “…misery was nothing to do with objective good fortune. Misery was like bad weather; it was just there, and no number of optimistic comments could make the weather better” and “Fictional deaths can make us cry real tears” (to which many readers can attest) and “If you know you do something well, then it doesn’t matter what others think”.

“Love of what you do is unmistakeable in the care with which you do it, whether it is seen in the way in which an artist applies the final touch of paint to his canvas, a master carpenter sands the last touch of roughness from the surface of the wood, or a woman making pasta kneads the compliant dough, draws it out, coaxes it to the right consistency”

“Italian hill towns are hill towns with conviction; in other places human habitation may cling to the skirts of a hill, may climb up the lower slopes while leaving the top untouched. Here the Tuscan landscape was dominated by villages and towns that had long ago chosen to occupy the most commanding available positions”

“…the equivalent of the mementoes that in the past lovers kept, preserved and cherished – folded love letters, locks of hair, dried flowers pressed between the pages of an album, love token of every sort. There were no flowers any more, just the telegraphese of electronic mail, the faded leaves of the virtual world”

Readers will find themselves smiling, chucking and grinning inanely throughout this book. while the ultimate ending may be no surprise, the path taken is a pleasant literary journey, which Paul sums up neatly: “Sometimes the things that are most important to you are right under your nose and you just don’t notice them. Then the scales fall from your eyes when you are away from home, in a small hill town in Tuscany, for example, where unusual and extraordinary things happen. And then you realise how rich life is, and how precious”. Wonderful, as always.