This is an absolutely delightful and astonishingly well-written series of anecdotes about life in rural Provence and the characters who populate it. I can’t imagine a more entertaining introduction to this colorful region.

Less a book about southern France and more about the self deprecating reserve of a cosmopolitan Englishman abroad, pitted against the earthy and rustic hi jinx of the Gallic peasantry. It's an age old trope, colonialist meets local color, better exploited by Waugh or Greene or Orwell, but Mayle is a nice stylist who de-centers himself and foregrounds the memorable characters of the Vaucluse. The quiddity of the region, the Mistral blowing across shriveled vineyards, the endless glasses of pastis, the sumptuously slow and hot summer afternoons, the quaint customs of Boule and mushroom gathering, make me want to travel to Provence.

The story is so deliciously detailed! I could literally taste the elaborate five course meals and when i looked up from my book i was surprised that i wasnt in provence!