Major Pettigrew is one of those characters who sneaks up on you with his quiet depth. At first glance, he's a retired British army officer, stiff upper lip and all, living in the quaint village of Edgecombe St. Mary. But Helen Simonson paints him with such warmth—he’s grieving his brother’s death, clinging to tradition, yet slowly opening up to Mrs. Ali, the Pakistani shopkeeper. Their cross-cultural romance becomes this beautiful subversion of small-town expectations.
What I love is how his arc isn’t just about late-life love; it’s about shedding the weight of 'properness.' He starts as this relic of colonial-era decorum, but by the end, he’s choosing human connection over societal approval. The way he defends Mrs. Ali against his own son’s prejudices? Chivalry redefined. Simonson makes you root for this unlikely hero who rediscovers his spine when it matters most.