A Mixture of Frailties, Davies. Yes. I can think of only so many ways to praise the writing of Robertson Davies. The present work is up to the high standard, engaging if not quite compelling. This gem most caught my attention:

Wit and high spirits and a sense of fun—yes, they’re wonderful things. But a sense of humour—a real one—is a rarity and can be utter hell. Because it’s immoral, you know, in the real sense of the word: I mean, it makes its own laws; and it possesses the person who has it like a demon. Fools talk about it as though it were the same thing as a sense of balance, but believe me, it’s not. It’s a sense of anarchy, and a sense of chaos. Thank God it’s rare.