Essay collections live or die by the quality of their noticing. The Book of (More) Delights sounds like the sort of book that understands delight is not frivolous at all. It is attention, properly applied.
That appeals to me more than forced cheer ever could. I would much rather read a writer who can make a small observation feel earned than one who arrives trumpeting wonder before the sentence has done any work.
There is something elegant in a book willing to slow down long enough to register what most people hurry past. That kind of prose tends to age well because it is built on sensibility rather than gimmick.
If this collection keeps its balance between wit, warmth, and intelligence, it is exactly the kind of bedside book I would want within reach.
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