REVIEWS

(not quite) Mastering the ART of FRENCH LIVING

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— Jayne S, DearAuthor.com 
Every year upon arriving in Plobien, the small Breton town where he spends his summers, American writer Mark Greenside picks back up where he left off with his faux-pas–filled Francophile life. Mellowed and humbled, but not daunted (OK, slightly daunted), he faces imminent concerns: What does he cook for a French person? Who has the right-of-way when entering or exiting a roundabout? Where does he pay for a parking ticket? And most dauntingly of all, when can he touch the tomatoes?

Despite the two decades that have passed since Greenside’s snap decision to buy a house in Brittany and begin a bi-continental life, the quirks of French living still manage to confound him. Continuing the journey begun in his 2009 memoir about beginning life in France, (Not Quite) Mastering the Art of French Living details Greenside’s daily adventures in his adopted French home, where the simplest tasks are never straightforward but always end in a great story. Through some hits and lots of misses, he learns the rules of engagement, how he gets what he needs—which is not necessarily what he thinks he wants—and how to be grateful and thankful when (especially when) he fails, which is more often than he can believe.

Introducing the English-speaking world to the region of Brittany in the tradition of Peter Mayle’s homage to Provence, Mark Greenside’s first book, I’ll Never Be French, continues to be among the bestselling books about the region today. Experienced Francophiles and armchair travelers alike will delight in this new chapter exploring the practical and philosophical questions of French life, vividly brought to life by Greenside’s humor and affection for his community.

Dear Mr. Greenside,

Lo these many years ago, I noticed your first book I’ll Never Be French (no matter what I do): Living in a Small Village in Brittany. I put it in a wish list for a now defunct digital bookseller and, being honest here, when they went under and my list disappeared, I lost track of it. Then, I saw this book and thought, that reminds me of … oh yeah, it is the same author but ten years on. I decided why not catch up with you starting here.

I continue to be in awe of anyone moving to another country – or at least spending months out of each year there – as an adult. Not speaking the language kicks up the wonderment another notch. Buying and maintaining a second house in the US sounds like too much aggravation to me so doing this in France is way beyond my comfort zone. Perhaps your first book details more about that process but I enjoyed learning more about living in France – getting around, shopping, banking, filling out accident reports for insurance purposes, how to correctly slice cheese, more banking, how not to say “I love my life in France,” what not to serve native French people for a seven course dinner, and how to navigate the French health system. The six hour pig-fest among the senior citizens of two tiny Breton villages had me in stitches.

It was fun trying to remember my schoolgirl French lessons but thank you for including translations. I did wonder at the fact that after twenty years, you opted to “village idiot” your way through so many conversations but the last chapter answers a lot of my questions.

I would never master the art of French living either but it definitely is fun to read about someone else trying to. 

- Jayne


— James Rowen, The Political Environment
Want to read a good book? Mark Greenside obliges.

I'd reviewed some years ago my long-time friend Mark Greenside's first book – I'LL NEVER BE FRENCH (No Matter What I Do): Living in a Small Village in Brittany.

It was a cool book about how a UW-Madison grad and man of modest means had stumbled – or been dragged – into first-time home ownership 6,000 miles away from his Oakland rental.

To a small village in Brittany, in rural, Northwest France, where he communicated with more gestures than actual, grammatically-correct français.

With local residents who basically assigned him the purchase because he and they had hit if off so well during what was supposed to be for Mark just a one-time short visit.

So I'm happy to report that Mark has followed up that fun read with a smart sequel: (not quite) Mastering the Art of French Living in which we find him, mais oui, still wrestling with gender-based nouns absent from the English language.

Or highway signage which sends him and his rental car in the wrong direction. 

And at one point into another car in a roundabout. Damn signs! 

Which begins Mark's initiation into ambulance and hospital routines. To take care of the other driver, referred to officially as the victim.

He's also confronted by things and circumstances as truly foreign as his first-ever steaming plate of langoustine, baffling machinery which will not dispense to him a supermarket cart, or bank branches owned by the bank in which he has his funds, but which will not dispense him his money.

And even if you're not planning overseas home ownership or travels, there is much to appreciate in Mark's book beyond fine writing and story-telling.

Like what it means to be the outsider. 

And it what it takes to be part of a welcoming culture and community.

How patient or forgiving or demanding might we be if we often couldn't, despite our best efforts, follow instructions, obey the rules or make ourselves understood?

Especially in some pretty significant circumstances beyond, say, buying the chicken you thought you could get fresh with dinner guests arriving pretty soon.

Like having to find a doctor on a Sunday, or getting a relative to a hospital in an emergency, or dealing with the police at your accident scene – let alone explaining things to the rental car company.

These can be pretty difficult matters in our hometowns under the best, most routine circumstances. 

Now imagine them for yourself, or tourists, or immigrants – and as first-time events – with language barriers thrown in.

Seems pretty relevant these days, given what's happening along the southern border, no?

And in communities across the country where people wearing foreign clothing or speaking different tongues can be disrespected, harassed and worse.

Let alone to fellow American citizens stopped while driving black.

Finally, let me say, that what I really liked about Mark's latest book is seeing a friend again taking that leap –  and for a second time getting all the fine words and fearless self-disclosure into print – when the chance presents itself:

"Flying blind, mapless, relying on instruments, occasionally breaking through the fog and the clouds into the clear blue sky and the light. If you're lucky, as I have been, you'll discover one or two glorious unforgettables that make and change your life for better, forever. Quel surprise!"

Begging the question – would we have done it, too?