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Lettres d’Uzès #16: Our debt to Peter Mayle

17/9/2011

7 Comments

 
Jill returned from Uzès the other day after a visit to a livres nomades depot in a local restaurant. In exchange for half-a-dozen paperbacks which, as they say, cannot be put down but must be thrown violently away from one, she had chosen three or four others from the shelves. One of them was entitled Acquired Tastes. It was by Peter Mayle.

It is now fashionable to say that Peter Mayle is no longer fashionable. After the success of A Year in Provence, and A Good Year, he disappeared off my radar, although one would occasionally come across an essay of his in an old copy of GQ or suchlike, when waiting in line at the hairdresser.

Acquired Tastes was very old, but new to me, and a quick skim through its pages showed that Mayle was still ploughing the same furrow. He has worked this particular furrow a dozen or more times now: Toujours Provence, Encore Provence, Provence A-Z, French Lessons, Hotel Pastis and so on. And why not?

The fact is, it is his furrow. Anyone writing even occasional pieces about living down here in the south knows that we owe it all to him. Mayle invented the genre. He is the exemplar. We are all following in his footsteps. Yes, even the Celia Brayfields and the Rose Tremains. A Year in Provence was where it all started.

I remember it well. It was 1989. Extracts had been published in the Sunday Times and I, a long-term Francophile, was hooked. When the book itself was published, I bought it on the first day, finished my work, and sat reading with a bottle of Montagny 1ère Cru. I loved it. The book, that is. (The wine was pretty good, too, as I recall.)

I loved A Year in Provence not only for itself, but because Peter Mayle was also an advertising copywriter. True, he was a rather better (and certainly better-paid) writer than I ever was, but we certainly existed in the same universe. I even had a friend who was a good friend of his, though by the time I realised there was only a single degree of separation, Mayle was already living down here: about forty kilometres from where I am writing this.

Reading that first book proved to me that an advertising copywriter could not only aspire to owning a house in the south of France: it could actually be achieved. Mayle had done it; so could I.

It took 10 years fulfil our ambition, during which time a good friend, also a fine copywriter, had established himself in Burgundy. The Luberon – some people say because of Mayle himself – was now way too expensive for us, but this side of the Rhône, at that time, was just about feasible. And that’s how and why we are sitting now in the courtyard of a small maison de village in St Quentin la Poterie, a ville de Métiers d'Art, just outside Uzès.

Technically, of course, we are in Languedoc. But this is a mere technicality, the result of a Parisian bureaucrat arbitrarily deciding that the Rhône was a convenient border. As any fule no, this is a genuine part of original Roman Provence – the Pont du Gard is only 10 minutes from here – and so I can confidently confirm, with Peter Mayle, that A Year in Provence is always, always, A Good Year. 

We've had a dozen of them so far, and hope for many, many more.

Today’s listening: the Schubert String Quintet, played by the Lindsays, with Douglas Cummings on the second cello.

7 Comments
Leon
18/9/2011 23:56:08

A less charitable critic might say that a rut, rather than a furrow, is what Peter Mayle has been working all these years. But, as you rightly say Max, why not?
Even so, while Mayle’s Provence – especially when viewed through rosé-tinted glasses – may be a delightful place to visit, I wouldn’t want to live there. Nor, I suspect, would you!

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Max
19/9/2011 00:50:53

Another parallel occurs to me. Mayle claims that A Year in Provence began as a long and rambling letter to his agent, explaining why he he had been unable to make any progress on his novel. Ah, yes - now I understand.

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Mark Butterworth
19/9/2011 02:40:09

The administractive regions were created in the early 1980’s (I think) The Gard was a bit of an issue, if you look at

http://www.orbilat.com/Languages/Occitan/index.html

You’ll see that the eastern part spoke Provencal and the Western part of the Gard spoke Languedocien. Lots of arguments as to which region it should fall into.

Do you remember the 1977 League Cup Final between Everton and Villa? Seemed to go on for ages before they got a winner.

Just short of tossing a coin,....or going to a penalty shoot out....they finally decided that they would place the GARD in the Languedoc R.,based on the fact that the number of telephone calls made to Montpellier (capital of L.R.) by Gard residents was greater than the number of telephone calls made to Marseille (capital of PACA) That was how it was decided.







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Sean
19/9/2011 03:02:21

Lovely stuff as always.
I feel the same about 'Driving over lemons' and Andalucia.
Sadly, as is my usual state of affairs, I went and lived there first, then ended up back in the UK, read the book and realised I'd made a fundamental error of judgement.

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Parn123
19/9/2011 07:21:55

A great tribute to Peter Mayle! The Following quotes are from: http://www.perfumefromprovence.com/bookpage.htm
"In the early 1930's, Winifred Fortescue and her husband, Sir John Fortescue, left England and settled in Provence, in a small stone house amid olive groves, high in the hills above Nice. Their exodus had been caused partly by ill health, but was mostly for financial reasons, as it was in the period between the wars when it was cheaper to live in France than in England."
"Almost at once they were bewitched, by the scenery, by their garden - an incredible terraced landscape of vines, wild flowers, roses and lavender - and above all by the charming, infuriating, warm-hearted and wily Provencals. The house - called the Domaine - was delightful but tiny, and at once plans were put in hand to extend it over the mountain terraces. Winifred Fortescue's witty and warm account of life with stonemasons, builders, craftsmen, gardeners, and above all her total involvement with the everyday events of a Provencal village, made 'PERFUME FROM PROVENCE' an instant bestseller that went into several editions and became a famous compulsive book for everyone who has ever loved France, most especially Provence."
Of course I can't possibly suggest that Peter Mayle had read this before writing "A Year in Provence" ...
Needless to say Dianne and I enjoyed his early books - until that TV series where he was played by a miserable Inspector Morse (aka. John Thaw) cycling round the village with a seriously drooping baguette. After that, nobody dared admit to liking A Year...

Reply
Max
19/9/2011 07:39:08

Parn, you are a veritable font of knowledge! I have never heard of this book, but will dig it up now. Agree that the TV series was - arguably, because there is much competition - the worst thing I have ever seen. PS - thanks for the Montaigne link as well as this one.

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Dianne Taimsalu link
19/9/2011 13:37:50

To protect himself from libel laws, Parn has understated the case of the parallels between "Perfume from Provence" and "A Year in- - - -" If I remember rightly, the story of the baker and his drooping bread is duplicated (probably a local legend), and there are other similarities. Unfortunately, our copy is missing (lent to someone?)so impossible to check.

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     Max Smith

    European writer, radical, restaurateur and Red Sox fan. 70-something husband, father, step-father. and grandfather. Resident in Warwick, England.

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