In our neighbourhood there are several Little Free Libraries, those bookshelves-on-a-post which offer books on a “take one, leave one” basis. I always check them out, and recently found a copy of The Mayfair Bookshop (William Morrow) by Eliza Knight, “an award-winning, USA Today bestselling author of women’s historical fiction,” who lives in Maryland “with her husband, three daughters, two dogs, and a turtle.” The turtle clinched it, so I took the book home. Described as “a novel of Nancy Mitford and the pursuit of happiness,” The Mayfair Bookshop was, according to one of the cover blurbs, “an absolute must-read”; a “moving, touching tale of a Bright Young Thing turned bookseller/author and her quest to find fulfillment, inspiration, and love in the chaos of the World War II home front” according to another. A book about books and bookstores, the love of books, and the writing of same; What’s not to like? I thought. Well: plenty, as it happens. The novel plays out in two time periods, in alternating chapters. One thread takes place in the 1930s and ’40s and is narrated by Nancy Mitford herself. The other thread is set in present-day London, and follows Lucy St. Clair, a “book curator” from the US, as she “lands a gig” working at Heywood Hill, the Mayfair bookshop of the title. In Chapter 1 Nancy describes the launch of her new novel, Highland Fling: “‘Why, if it isn’t the brilliant Evelyn Waugh,’ I gushed, tugging him into my arms. Looking dapper and tan from his recent trek across the globe, he seemed in good spirits after the not-so-unfortunate demise of his marriage to that horrible cow who’d so sorely abused him. ‘And if it isn’t my equal in clever articulation as well as good looks, Nancy Mitford.’ I laughed, the first true one of the evening.” Nancy laughed; I rolled my eyes. Back to the Little Free Library this one will go. —Lascia Tagen