The Case of the Missing Books: A Mobile Library Mystery

By Ian Sansom

Israel Armstrong is a passionate soul, lured to Ireland by the promise of an exciting new career. Alas, the job that awaits him is not quite what he had in mind. Still, Israel is not one to dwell on disappointment, as he prepares to drive a mobile library around a small, damp Irish town. After all, the scenery is lovely, the people are charming—but where are the books? The rolling library's 15,000 volumes have mysteriously gone missing, and it's up to Israel to discover who would steal them . . . and why. And perhaps, after that, he will tackle other bizarre and perplexing local mysteries—like, where does one go to find a proper cappuccino and a decent newspaper?

• Language: English
• Publisher: HarperCollins
• Release date: Oct 6, 2009
• ISBN: 9780061983542

Ian Sansom

Ian Sansom is the author of 10 books of fiction and non-fiction. He is a former Fellow of Emmanuel College, Cambridge and a former Writer-in-Residence at the Seamus Heaney Centre for Poetry in Belfast. He is currently a Professor in the Department of English and Comparative Literary Studies at the University of Warwick. He is a regular broadcaster on BBC Radio 4 and Radio 3 and he writes for The Guardian and The London Review of Books.

Book preview

1

No. No, no, no, no, no. This was not what was supposed to happen. This was not it at all.

Israel was outside the library, suitcase in hand, the hood on his old brown duffle coat turned up against the winter winds, and there he was, squinting, reading the sign.

---

DEPARTMENT OF ENTERTAINMENT, LEISURE AND COMMUNITY SERVICES

LIBRARY CLOSURE

It is with regret that Rathkeltair Borough Council announces the closure of Tumdrum and District Public Library, with effect from 1 January 2005. Alternative provision is available for borrowers in Rathkeltair Central Library. A public information meeting will be held in February 2005 to examine proposals for local library and information services and resources. See local press for details.

Further information is available by contacting the Department of Entertainment, Leisure and Community Services at the address below.

The following associated planning application and environmental statement may be examined at the Town Hall Planning Office, Rathkeltair between the hours of 9.30 a.m.-10.30 a.m., Monday to Thursday. It is advisable to make an appointment before calling at the office.

Written comments should be addressed to the Divisional Planning Manager, Town Hall, Rathkeltair BT44 2BB, to be received by 5 February 2005. Please quote the application reference number in any correspondence.

Applic No: X/2004/0432/0

Location: Carnegie Public Library, Hammond Road, Tumdrum

Proposal: Proposed mixed-use development including residential, live-work units, class 2 use (financial, professional and other services), class 3 use (business), class 4 shop and community facilities.

T. BRUNSWICK, BA, MBA,

Chief Executive and Town Clerk

Rathkeltair Borough Council, Town Hall,

Rathkeltair, Co. Antrim BT44 2BB

---

Unbelievable. That was just…unbelievable.

He couldn’t take it all in; his eyes seemed to skid across the lines.

He had to read it all again and still the only words he took in were ‘Library’ and ‘Closure’–and they hit him hard, like a blow to the head, literally rocked him back on his worn-out old heels, the worn-out old heels on his one and only pair of worn-out best shoes, his brown brogues, too tight and permanently unpolished, shoes that had done him since graduation for all and every special occasion, for weddings, funerals, bar mitzvahs and for the interminable and unsuccessful job interviews.

Israel had a headache and he was tired from the journey, his whole body and his one and only best brown corduroy suit wrinkled and furrowed from the coach and the ferry and the train and the bus, and he put down his suitcase, shrugged his shoulders a little to wake himself up, and he read the sign again more carefully.

‘Library’, ‘Closure’.

Oh, God. He took another Nurofen and a sip of water from his water bottle.

He’d read and understood the whole now–that greasy little ‘with regret’ and the weaselly ‘public information meeting’, the obfuscating ‘proposed mixed-used development’–but it was the two words ‘Library’ and ‘Closure’ that really carried all the meaning, that hit hardest. He shook his head to clear his mind and pushed his mop of messy home-cut curly hair from his eyes and his little round gold-rimmed glasses up high onto his furrowed forehead and he took a long, wobbly step back and lifted up his face and looked at the building in front of him: two storeys of unforgiving bluff red brick, blinds drawn, big oak doors locked, no lights, no sign of life.

He looked up high and he looked up hard, and then he dropped his head down low. This place was definitely closed. Permanently. And for good.

There was a stray dog then, a little terrier, sniffing around Israel’s old suitcase while he stood there, and around his corduroy turn-ups, and he really didn’t do well with dogs, Israel, he didn’t get on with dogs at all–he was a typical vegetarian–and this thing was a mangy flea-bag, and half-blind by the look of it, and scraggly and arthritic–it reminded Israel a little too much of himself, actually–and he shooed it away: ‘Go on, go! Get away!’ Then he rubbed his eyes and glanced around and behind him, to see if it was for real, this grim, godforsaken place, to see if he’d made some terrible, simple, idiotic mistake, had come to the wrong library maybe, or the wrong town, too tired after his long journey to be able to see that people were in fact flocking into some secret, fabulous library entrance, some little tunnel or nook, some rabbity-hole known only to the locals.

They were not.

No one was approaching with armfuls of books or tickets in their hands: there were no sour and pear-shaped OAPs; no straggle-haired young mums at their wits’ end with smeary, miserable children dragging along for story time; no one clutching important-looking unimportant documents to be photocopied in triplicate for their solicitor or the DSS; no wrinkled, stubbly, fragrant winos; no schoolkids half-heartedly working on projects about ancient civilisations or the Second World War or the processes of human digestion. No madmen. No one. None of them. The building was empty. The car park was deserted. The library was shut.

There is a terrible poignancy about a building intended for the public that is closed to the public: it feels like an insult, a riposte to all our more generous instincts, the public polity under threat, and democracy abandoned. Back home in London, Israel had always found the sight of Brent Cross shopping centre at night depressing enough, and his girlfriend Gloria, her family’s swimming pool when it was drained in the winter, but the sight of the big red-brick library with its dark windows affected him even more deeply, in the same way that the sight of a derelict school might affect a teacher, or an empty restaurant a chef: a clear sign of the impending collapse of civilisation and the inevitable bankruptcy, a reminder never to count your chickens, or to overspend on refurbishments and cutlery. No one likes to see a shut library.

But for Israel Armstrong the sight of this shut library was more than just an omen or a mere unpleasantness. For Israel, this was personal. For chubby little Israel Armstrong, in his brown corduroy suit and his best brown shoes, all the way over from England, first time in Ireland and first time in the north, the sight of this particular shut library was an absolute disaster. This was unmitigated. For Israel, far from home and in a country not his own, this was the punch that comes out of nowhere and sends you heading for the canvas. For Israel, this particular shut library meant that he was out of a job. It also meant, as the cold December winds lashed around his legs and blew up litter all around him, that he had absolutely no idea where he was going to spend the night.

He hadn’t exactly expected a welcoming committee. He hadn’t expected the whole country, or even the whole of the north of the country, or the whole of County Antrim even to turn out with flags and banners, he hadn’t expected an all-Ireland green and orange, Guinness-sponsored celebration, but some kind of acknowledgement of his arrival would have been nice, some recognition that finally he was here, that the new Tumdrum and District librarian had arrived. But no. There was no sign of interest or excitement in Israel’s presence in the town of Tumdrum in the county of Antrim late on that cold December afternoon. He had arrived and no one cared.

So. He did the only thing he could do under the circumstances. In the face of rejection he attempted to maintain his dignity and his pride. He turned his back on them, the whole lot of them–on the library, on the dog, on the faceless, faithless people of the north of the north of Ireland–he turned his back on the big empty building, picked up his suitcase, pulled his big flapping duffle coat tighter around him, his pockets bulging neurotically with emergency paperbacks and newspapers, just in case he was ever caught short without something to read, and he sighed a sigh, and prodded his glasses boldly back, and stepped forward. And into the huge, hot, curling turd left behind by the fat, half-blind, arthritic Irish dog. Israel groaned and he cursed and he limped over to a muddy patch of grass near the library entrance and wiped his soles.

That was just his luck. That was just bloody typical.

He managed to wipe most of it off on the grass, and used the Guardian to scrape off the rest. He shrugged again and trudged down the cracked concrete disabled access ramp and through the empty car park and back down to the road.

This was definitely not supposed to happen. No. This was not it at all.

2

Israel Joseph Armstrong, BA (Hons), had arrived in Northern Ireland on the overnight ferry from Stranraer. It was his first experience of sea travel, and he had found he did not agree with it, or it with him.

In his rich imagination, Israel’s crossing to Ireland was a kind of pilgrimage, an act of necessity but also an act of homage, similar to the crossings made by generations of his own family who had made the reverse journey from Ireland to England, and also from Russia and from Poland, from famines and pogroms and persecution to the New World, or at least to Bethnal and then Golders Green and eventually further out to the Home Counties, and to Essex, and similar also to the fateful trip made by W. H. Auden and Christopher Isherwood on board the Champlain in 1939, say, or Robert Louis Stevenson sailing the South Seas, or the adventures of Joseph Conrad the mariner, or the young Herman Melville, or similar, at the very least, to the adventures of Jerome K. Jerome’s eponymous three men rowing in a boat on the Thames.

He’d read far too many books, that was Israel’s trouble.

Books had spoilt him; they had curdled his brain, like cream left out on a summer’s afternoon, or eggs overbeaten with butter. He’d been a bookish child, right from the off, the youngest of four, the kind of child who seemed to start reading without anyone realising or noticing, who enjoyed books without his parents’ insistence, who raced through non-fiction at an early age and an extraordinary rate, who read Jack Kerouac before he was in his teens, and who by the age of sixteen had covered most of the great French and Russian authors, and who as a result had matured into an intelligent, shy, passionate, sensitive soul, full of dreams and ideas, a wide-ranging vocabulary, and just about no earthly good to anyone.

His expectations were sky-high, and his grasp of reality was minimal.

The big white ferry that had carried Israel over to Ireland, for example, he realised sadly and too late, was not the boat of his imaginings and dreams; it was not like the Pequod, or Mark Twain’s Mississippi riverboat; it was more like…

It was more like a floating Little Chef Travelodge, actually, full of Scots and Irish and possibly Scots-Irish lorry-drivers, men profoundly pale of colour and generous of figure, men possessed of huge appetites and apparently unquenchable thirst, and Israel couldn’t understand a word they said, and they couldn’t understand him, and he couldn’t believe how much they were drinking. They were drinking gallons. Literally. Enough to sink a ship.

He’d never been a great one for the drink himself, Israel, although he wasn’t entirely averse; he found that two glasses of red wine was usually about his limit and seemed to have approximately the same effect on him as a dozen pints of super-lager on his peers and contemporaries. Any more and he was usually violently sick, as he had been on the ferry a little earlier actually, although without so much as a sip of red wine and only coffee and snacks inside him: he wasn’t sure if it was nerves or the swell, or the after-effects of the ten-hour coach journey up from London Victoria, and a couple of vegetable samosas on the way, a 10% Extra Free! pack of Doritos, two Snickers, two hard-boiled eggs and a souvenir packet of ‘Olde London’ fudge bought on impulse from a kiosk at Victoria moments before departing.

He had tried to regain his sense of balance and his composure in the ferry’s bar–the unfortunately named Sea Dogs–with a glass of Coke to settle his stomach, but by eight o’clock things were getting a little rowdy in Sea Dogs, and a little choppy, and he had no desire to add further to the mess and the confusion, so he moved on to the television room, where he had to endure a charity reality TV show in which people were forced to compete for the chance to have their houses redecorated by their favourite celebrities by entering a lookalike karaoke competition.

Trying to sleep upright in a chair, next to men twice his not inconsiderable size dribbling burger juice, with Sky TV at full volume: this was not how his new life and new career in Ireland were supposed to begin. His new life in Ireland was supposed to be overflowing with blarney and craic. He was supposed to be excited and ready, trembling on the verge of a great adventure.

But instead Israel was just trembling on the verge of being sick again, and the journey had given him a headache, a terrible, terrible headache; he was a martyr to his headaches, Israel. He’d probably had more headaches in his life than most people have had hot dinners, assuming that people these days are eating a lot more salads and mostly sandwiches for lunch. It was all the books and the lack of fresh air that did it, and the fact that he was a Highly Sensitive Person.

When the ferry finally arrived in the grey-grim port of Larne, hours late, and disgorged its human, pantechnicon and white-van contents onto the stinking, oily, wholly indifferent harbourside, Israel had a bad feeling, and it wasn’t just his headache and the sea-sickness. He was supposed to be met at the ferry terminal, but there was no one there and no one was answering the phone at his contact number at the library, so he had to use what little remained of his money and his initiative to get the train out of Larne to Rathkeltair, and then the bus to Tumdrum, and through the long grey streets end-on to the hills and to the sea, and all the way to the library–to the big shut library. It felt as though someone had slammed his own front door in his face.

Israel had grown up in and around libraries. Libraries were where he belonged. Libraries to Israel had always been a constant. In libraries Israel had always known calm and peace; in libraries he’d always seemed to be able to breathe a little easier. When he walked through the doors of a library it was like entering a sacred space, like the Holy of Holies: the beautiful hush and the shunting of the brass-handled wooden drawers holding the card catalogues, the reassurance of the reference books and the eminent OEDs, the amusing little troughs of children’s books; all human life was there, and you could borrow it and take it home for two weeks at a time, nine books per person per card. By the age of thirteen Israel had two pink library tickets all of his own–you were only really allowed one, but his dad had had a word with the librarian and won him a special dispensation. ‘More books?’ he could remember his dad proudly saying when he used to stagger home from the library after school with another sports-bag full of George Orwells and specialist non-fiction. ‘More books? That’s my boy!’ he’d say. ‘He’s read hundreds,’ his father would boast to the librarians, and to teachers, and to friends of the family, and to other parents. And ‘Hundreds?!’ his mother would correct. ‘What do you mean, hundreds? Thousands of books that boy’s read. Thousands and thousands. His head is full of books.’

And so it was this Israel Armstrong–this child of the library, his head full of books and a little overweight perhaps these days in his brown corduroy suit, portly even, you might say, but not stout, and not yet thirty years old–who had found himself barred and locked out in the fishy-smelling, grey-grim town of Tumdrum on that cold December afternoon, and who found his way eventually to the Tumdrum and District Council offices, after having had to ask directions half a dozen times, and who was finally being ushered in, old brown suitcase in hand, to see Linda Wei, Deputy Head of Entertainment, Leisure and Community Services, to sort out the apparent misunderstanding.

‘Ah! Mr Armstrong’ said Linda Wei, who looked as though she might have been quite at home on the Larne-Stranraer ferry–she was a big Chinese lady wearing little glasses and with a tub of Pringles open on her desk, and a litre bottle of Coke, half its contents already drained; you wouldn’t have blinked if you’d seen Linda behind the wheel of an articulated lorry, honking on her horn while offering a one-fingered salute.

‘We meet at last,’ she said; they had previously spoken on the phone. ‘Come on in, come on in,’ she motioned to him, rather over-animatedly, and then again, for good measure, because Israel already was in, ‘Come in, come in, come in!’ She gave a small Cola burp and extended a sweaty, ready-salted hand. ‘Lovely to meet you. Lovely. Lovely. Good journey?’

Israel shrugged his shoulders. What could he say?

‘Now, I am sorry there was nobody to meet you at the ferry terminal this morning…’

‘Yes,’ he said.

‘You were late, you see.’

There was an awkward silence.

‘But. Never matter. You’re here now, aren’t you. Now. Tea? Coffee? It’ll be from the machine, I’m afraid.’

‘No, thanks.’

‘Erm? Crisp?’

‘No. Thanks.’

‘They’re Pringles.’

‘No. Thank you.’

‘I missed breakfast,’ said Linda.

‘Right.’

‘Sure I can’t tempt you?’

‘Absolutely sure. Thanks anyway.’ This was not a moment for Pringles.

‘Well. OK. So. You’re here.’

‘Yes.

‘And you’ve been to the library?’

‘Yes.’

‘Ah. Then you’ll be aware that—’

‘It’s shut,’ Israel said, surprised to hear a slight hysterical edge to his voice. ‘The library. Is shut.’

‘Yeeees,’ she said, drawing out the ‘yes’ as though stretching a balloon. ‘Yes, Mr Armstrong. There’s been a wee change of plan.’

Linda paused for a crisp and rearranged herself more authoritatively in her padded black-leather-effect swivel-seat.

‘So. You probably want to know what’s happened?’

Israel raised an eyebrow.

‘Yes. Now. Let me explain. Since your appointment as the new Tumdrum and District branch librarian I’m afraid there’s been a little bit of a resource allocation. And the library—’

‘Has been shut.’ Israel tried to control the quavering in his voice.

‘Temporarily,’ said Linda, raising–almost wagging–a finger.

‘I see. So you no longer need my—’ began Israel.

‘No! No, no! No! Not at all, not at all!’ Linda licked some crisp crumbs from her lips. ‘No! You are essential, in fact, to the…planned resource allocation. We are absolutely delighted to have attracted someone of your calibre, Mr Armstrong. Delighted.’

‘But there’s no library for me to work in.’

‘Not exactly.’

‘Not exactly?’

‘That’s right. You see, it’s not a cutback in our funding, or anything like that we’re talking about–no, no, no! It’s more a re-targeting of our resources. Do you see?’

Well, to be honest, no, at that moment, Israel did not see.

‘No. Sorry. You’ve lost me.’

‘Well, yes, of course. You’ve had a long journey. London, was it?’

‘That’s right. Ten hours on the coach, eight hours on the—’

‘I’ve a sister in London,’ interrupted Linda.

‘Oh.’

‘Southfields? Would you know it at all?’

‘No. I’m afraid not.’

‘She’s a project manager. For–what are they called? Something beginning with D?’ She struggled for the answer. ‘The mobile phone mast people?’

‘No. Sorry. I haven’t come across them.’ Israel was not interested in Linda Wei’s sister who lived in Southfields and who worked for a mobile telephone mast company which began with D. ‘And getting back to the library?’

‘Yes. Erm. The library. Well, first of all I want to assure you that we at Tumdrum and District Council are absolutely committed to continuing the public’s free access to ideas and resources.’

‘To libraries.’

‘Yes. If you want to put it like that.’

‘Fine. But you’ve closed the actual library?’

‘Yes.’ And here she ballooned out the ‘yes’ as far as seemed possible without it actually popping and deflating and turning into a ‘no’, and she reached up high to a shelf behind her and took down a fat ring-bound report, which she handed to Israel, and gestured for him to read. ‘Here,’ she said. ‘This’ll explain.’

The report had a title: The Public Library: Democracy’s Resource. A Statement of Principles. Israel started flicking through. It was all output measures and graphs and tables–the usual sort of thing. He turned to the recommendations at the back.

‘In the opinion of the Information Resources

Reviews for The Case of the Missing Books

[auntie0nanuuq · Rating: 2 out of 5 stars]

A very interesting premise:A new Librarian is hired to run the Library, but when he arrives in the small Irish town, he finds the Library is closed and all the books are missing..... He is also given a rusted out old bus to use as the mobile library.....He is sent a chicken coop on a farm to live and is dismayed at all the meat being served for meals, as he is a vegetarian.The "board" sends the poor sap to find the missing books and they tell him where to find them, but he isn't bright enough to follow their guidance.There is quite a bit of subtle humor.... but all the affected "literary prose" and the basically unlikeable characters made me dislike the book....I rated this a 2nd star for the plot line.

[inkcharmed · Rating: 3 out of 5 stars]

This book made me laugh out loud a couple times, but it also failed to hold my interest for a few periods, like towards the end. The protagonist was kind of likeable, but also kind of blah. Certainly not much action.I'm not sure if I'll try the second one in the series or not.

[osbaldistone · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

Okay, so it's not your classic mystery novel. More of a humorous romp with a mystery as the excuse to write the book. If you're looking for P.D. James or Agatha Christi, this isn't it. But Sansom has a wacky sense of humour that makes this a fun read, with a few laugh-out-loud bits as well. I picked this book up partly because I like novels set in Ireland. However, the Irish angle has only a bit part in this novel; rural Yorkshire or west Texas probably would have worked just as well. The point is to drop a Londoner down in the middle of a 'foreign' culture and see what kind of crazy trouble he can get into without really trying. And it works. A fun, quick read with lots of laughs and, yes, a genuine mystery to drive the plot along. Os.

[djupstrom · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

I liked this one! It was fun and comical. I can't wait for the next one in the series!

[woosang_1 · Rating: 3 out of 5 stars]

The book is a YA book and our hero's name is Israel. He is supposed to be in his 30s or late 20s but the author seems to forget this a write him as a bumbling teen. Much of the book is annoying and I has tempted to put it down. BUT of course I had to find out where the books had all went. Will I read more of these books?? I would say no but someone sent me book 2 and I would like to return it at the convention.

[azulesojos · Rating: 3 out of 5 stars]

some funny bits but Irish "accents'" are hard to read

[sunnysd_1 · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

Israel Armstrong has just endured a horrendous ordeal -- a lengthy train trip from London, a horrible, not at all Pequod-esque ferry ride, followed by another lengthy train/bus ride and a long walk. As he stands before the doors of his new place of employment, the Tumdrum and District Public Library, reading the shocking "Library Closure" sign, he can only assume it is all a monumental mistake. Unfortunately, it isn't, and what with culture shock, reality shock, a signed and non-negotiable contract that states he MUST be the librarian, chickens, a mobile bus that has seen far better days, the lack of espresso of any sort, and of course, a whole library completely and utterly empty of books, Israel has had many better days.Sansom's first Mobile Library mystery walks the line between hilarious and depressing with consummate skill. The language barrier as Londoner Israel struggles to adapt to Irish conversation helps to make, at least for an American reader, his perpetual confusion very easy to relate to. A fun, quick, afternoon read -- quick that is, if you aren't compelled to pull out your map of Ireland and dig out a dictionary.

[lehack · Rating: 1 out of 5 stars]

I love mysteries and can tolerate some humourous mysteries - but this got tedious. I couldn't empathize with the main character who appeared weak and stupid at best. The whole group of characters were simple. I finished it against my better judgement, but I was stuck on a train with nothing else to read. In hindsight, sleep would have been more beneficial.

[readabook66 · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

A pleasant surprise. I'll definitely watch for the sequel. Finished January 2007

[miss_read_1 · Rating: 1 out of 5 stars]

I thought this would be a refreshingly light change from all the Booker shortlisted books I've been reading lately, but I didn't like it. I also thought it would be funny, but it suffered from start to finish from that "trying too hard" thing. It wasn't ever a mystery in the traditional sense of the word, but that didn't bother me. As long as the writing is good, the characters well-developed and the dialogue believable, then I'd be happy. None of the above. Israel Armstrong, the protagonist, is (I think) supposed to be a bumbling fish out of water. Instead, the calamities which befall him are so ridiculous that they fall far short of humour. The other characters are insultingly stereotypical Irishmen and women. The dialogue, again, tried so hard to be funny, but those efforts were far too obvious to be effective.I really like series of mystery books, following the same characters over the years, and I was very much looking forward to finding a new favourite in Sansom's work. It wasn't to be.

[verbafacio · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

The Mobile Library: The Case of the Missing Books is a sometimes hilarious story of Israel Armstrong, a fish-out-of-water librarian who takes a new job in rural Ireland. Israel's misadventures and encounters with the eccentric locals are definitely humorous, though sometimes they seem over the top. I was not expecting the ending -- cute and fun.

[dbartlett_32 · Rating: 5 out of 5 stars]

Though billed as a mystery, this is really a "fish-out-of-water" story about Israel Armstrong, a librarian from London, who has taken a job in rural Northern Ireland. He discovers to his dismay upon his arrival in the village of Tumdrum that the library has been closed, and further that all the books seem to have disappeared. Israel must try to get the mobile library van back into operation, all the while searching for the missing library books. This is one of those rare books which actually had me laughing out loud at times. Some of the British colloquialisms may not be familiar, but that doesn't stand in the way of enjoying a great story full of interesting characters.

[eenerd · Rating: 5 out of 5 stars]

This book was so fun to read, I am now a huge Ian Sansom fan and look forward to his new release next month! This whole group of characters and their environment are fantastic--here's hoping Mr.Sansom continues with Israel, Ted, Linda Wei, George and the rest for a long time!

[lcrouch_9 · Rating: 1 out of 5 stars]

What a royal waste of time. I also find it offensive that anyone would even consider comparing this rot with the poignant writing of Alexander McCall Smith. Every page was like pulling teeth. I only finished it because we read it for our book group. Otherwise, I would have stopped at page 3 (and a wise move that would have been).

[omphalos02 · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

Very funny story in which Israel Armstrong, a librarian from London, takes a job in a small town in Northern Ireland and finds his library closed. He is to be a "mobile librarian" in this seeming Irish backwater. The "mystery" is not really much, in fact he stumbles across the solution, but the situations are truly hilarious. Some of the best parts of this book are in the slang terms and phrases, which the reader would be well advised to look up as they appear.

[wyvernfriend · Rating: 3 out of 5 stars]

Amusing but not the best book I've read, if he had held back a little in the punishment meeted out to his hero, Israel, it would have been better.A Librarian goes to his post to find that the library is closed and he is supposed to take over the mobile library, however the books have disappeared. Sections of it are interesting and really reflect life in a library.

[shiunji_1 · Rating: 2 out of 5 stars]

Don't get me wrong with the rating - I did enjoy the book, eventhough I didn't think it was very good. Some bits of it were the wrong type of kitsch, & characters though of some interest, had very little depth (which to a certain extent is funny because it allows you to extrapolate). The plot also, is a bit thin, but you cannot help yourself smiling at the almost too personally honest swipes it takes at the typical bibliophile/plot conventions at the expense of poor Mr. Armstrong & the Irish. Nutshell: A good light, impersonal read say, to pass time on a bus. Not epiphanical. PS: I also wonder if George is a reference to Famous Five?

[laurochka-1 · Rating: 2 out of 5 stars]

Entertaining but not much more.
The improbable succession of misfortunes that befall Israel Armstrong, challenge even the most willing voluntary suspension of disbelief. Not entirely unlovable though.

[librarycin · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

3.5 starsIsrael, a vegetarian Jewish librarian from London, has moved to Tumdrum, County Antrim, Northern Ireland to run the library there. But, after a horrible trip to get there and no one to greet him, he learns that the library has closed! Apparently, he is to run the mobile library instead. Unfortunately, the library books have all gone missing! Not only that, the people are not the least bit welcoming or helpful, he has to live in a chicken coop, and now he has to figure out where all the missing books are!I liked it. It was entertaining and there was a touch of humour. This is part of a series, but I'm not quite decided yet if I'll continue, although being a librarian myself, I just might, for the novelty of it.

[jguidry-1 · Rating: 2 out of 5 stars]

I didn't really get this book at all. I didn't like the main character one bit. He was whiny and annoyed me as much as he annoyed his new neighbors. He bobbled along accusing everyone of stealing the books from the library and never quite got it right. The ending was a huge let down, too. I liked a few of the background characters. I'm going to have to think long and hard about grabbing book 2 to see if the series gets any better.

[hardlyhardy · Rating: 5 out of 5 stars]

A mystery novel doesn't necessarily have to have a murder, but without bloodshed it helps to have humor and some intriguing characters to keep readers glued to its pages. That has been the secret of Alexander McCall Smith's successful No. 1 Ladies' Detective Agency series. Ian Sansom's Mobile Library series has yet to catch on - just try to find a copy of one of his books in stock in your local bookstore - but it deserves success, if the first novel in the series, "The Case of the Missing Books" (2006), is any indication.Israel Armstrong, a bookish Londoner, takes a job as librarian in Tumdrum, a small town in Northern Ireland. There are just two problems, as he discovers upon his arrival. First, the library has been closed for economic reasons. Only a beat-up bookmobile or mobile library still exists. Second, all the books in the mobile library are missing. Israel's first task as librarian is to find those missing books.He makes a terrible detective, and his ineptitude is part of the fun. Then, too, there are the many quirky townsfolk, who seem to take offense at everything Israel does while at the same time giving greater offense to him. Israel wants only to quit and return to London, but he is warned that unless he succeeds in finding those missing books, his temporary contract will be extended.Sansom, who lives in Northern Ireland, comes up with some nifty sentences. Here are a few of my favorites:"You wouldn't mind him driving your cab, but you wouldn't want to have to argue over the fare. Israel strongly suspected tattoos.""'Mind if I smoke?' said Ted."'Not at all,' said Israel, although he did mind actually, but he couldn't say he did because he was a liberal ...""Israel reckoned he was probably the most politically correct person in about a hundred-mile radius at this very moment but even he couldn't help noticing her legs.""... he was the sort of person, after all, who could get nostalgic about yesterday's breakfast."Those lines can give one a pretty good picture of the kind of man Israel Armstrong is, and also the kind of book this is. I enjoyed it immensely.

[clue_4 · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

Israel Armstrong has lost his job as a librarian. Off he goes (from England) to Ireland to become the driver of a mobile library. He discovers a mystery when he arrives, the books have gone missing! As Israel goes about trying to find them, he mixes it up with the locals. The book and it's characters are a bit quirky and it starts out slow but in the end I really enjoyed it.

[debnance_1 · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

I loved this book. I don't want to say too much in case Igive away all the fun, but the story involves an unsuccessfullibrarian who arrives at his first real library job to discover thatthe library has been closed. Thanks, Kristen, for telling me aboutthis one.

[ma_washigeri · Rating: 3 out of 5 stars]

Very easy read. Very amusing.

[clamato_1 · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

Our unlikely hero, Israel Armstrong had more pain inflicted upon him in a very short period of time than most ever endure in a life time and yet he persevered in his noble search for the missing books of the Tumdrum and District Public Library. The trials and tribulations paid off. An hilarious story of a city boy Englishman dropkicked into small-town Northern Ireland replete with eccentric characters, chickens, and a mystery to solve. Laugh out loud funny the whole way through and I can't wait to read the next installment of the series.

[beckyjg · Rating: 3 out of 5 stars]

As The Case of the Missing Books begins, Israel Armstrong has arrived in Northern Ireland to take up the position of librarian for the small town of Tumdrum, only to find that the library has been closed. Israel, who considers himself something of a sophisticate is floored; after making an uncomfortable journey from London, the last leg of which was a ferry trip "full of Scots and Irish and possibly Scots-Irish lorry-drivers, men profoundly pale of colour and generous of figure, men possessed of huge appetites and apparently unquenchable thirst..." he learns that the job he's spent his whole life preparing for ("Israel had grown up in and around libraries. Libraries were where he belonged.") doesn't exist and that he is, instead, to be in charge of the district's mobile library. Or rather, as the Deputy Head of Entertainment, Leisure and Community Services corrects him, the "mobile learning centre."Israel is sent off in quest of the bookmobile itself, and then (after receiving a black eye at the hands of a local school administrator) is taken to his temporary lodging at a local farm. There, he is set up in the chicken coop.The next day adds mystery to the insult and injury he has already suffered in Tumdrum when Israel discovers that the library has been emptied of the 15,000 volumes which were meant to stock the bookmobile--ah, mobile learning centre--and that it is his responsibility to recover them. He spends the next 250 or so pages stumbling around, getting injured, alienating people, and drinking bad coffee.The mystery premise of The Case of the Missing Books is lovely, and the characters and countryside are brimming with potential. It reads too little like a mystery, however, and too much like an awkward homage to Cold Comfort Farm, one of the funniest books ever written. Unfortunately, Ian Sansom is not the craftsman that Stella Gibbons was. Where the humor in Cold Comfort Farm comes from the clash of cultures and the real menace given off by the characters, who all seem to be in on something about which the heroine is completely ignorant, The Case of the Missing Books just reads like a fish-out-of-water tale in which barely a single character has any depth or interest. The book did gain momentum toward the end, and although by that point it was too late to redeem this volume it did bode well for further installments of the Mobile Library Series.

[cmeatto_1 · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

There are some plots that I could live to 500 and could have never conceived. This is a LT member delight. Uptight Englishman shows up in Ireland for library job and it (the library) disappears. Really. A one gulf read, marvellous characters, surprise surprise ending, and Anglophiles and Irishphiles alike can rejoice.

[kellyn_903682 · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

This book was a fun, quick read. Being "in the profession" I could see myself and colleagues at our most erudite and annoying worst.

[pussreboots · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

The Case of the Missing Books by Ian Sansom is the first in a mystery series involving a bookmobile driving librarian in the outer wilderness of Northern Ireland.Israel Armstrong is a newly graduated librarian. He's been struggling to find work and because he's young, and not burdened with a family, has the flexibility to move. In his case it's from London to a small village in Northern Ireland, far enough away that it takes two days to get there if one is traveling on the cheap.His job is sold on one set of expectations: head of the library inside the village proper. The reality is completely different. The building has been shuttered and instead, the library is a bookmobile that is sitting in storage in the yard of the only taxi operation. The other hitch: there aren't any books!Not exactly. There are books but they aren't in the library. Nor are they in the bookmobile. They are somewhere else. If Israel is to prove himself worthy of the job to his employer and the village, he has to find the books.Now here's the thing: Israel who is set up as a comedic but sympathetic character isn't very likable. Sure he's tired. Sure he's had a long trip. And sure, the reality of the job is very different than what was promised. But if he's this upset about the situation, he should just shut up and go home, rather than making an ass of himself.But, and here's where I knock off a star from the rating, he doesn't. He spends the first half or so of the book snarking about the job, his living situation, the people of the village, and so forth. The actual mystery has to wait for Israel to get his head out of his ass and come to terms with the reality of his job before he actually decides to find the books.During the worst of Israel's tantrum, I found myself wishing I could trade places with him. I would love to be a bookmobile librarian (and have even applied to such a job). No luck so far, though, on my quest to drive one.

[chewdigest · Rating: 5 out of 5 stars]

You can never go wrong with Israel Armstrong, the North London, Vegetarian, & Jewish Mobile Librarian of Northern Ireland.