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Of all the authors past and present, I have to say the one who was most masterful at turning a phrase, at constructing plots that uniquely melded with themes that probe the mind, at creating vivid imagery where there was none, at establishing subtle textural threads that......well......oh, hell. He did none of that. But I find the books by James Herriot (the pen name of James Alfred Wight) to be utterly delightful. I can't think of a better word for it. The first book in his series, All Creatures Great and Small, is the only book I've read more than three times and I've read it six times to date and will again. Why? I love his simple, humorous, good-natured stories about interesting people who are different from me but who are personally very appealing.
The BBC production, by the way, was an incredibly comforting thing for me as I watched the first season (delayed a year or so before being broadcast on PBS in the U.S.) in the fall of 1979 on my 13" black-and-white while in my first year of graduate school. I was far from home, isolated from people I knew, and studying hard. Sunday evenings were gold for that one hour for me. No doubt that contributes significantly to my fondness for the books.
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