Book 22: French Dirt

French Dirt by Richard Goodman was originally loaned to me by my friend Chelsea, or maybe her mom, Barb, when I was in high school. Oh la la, it's so good.

Whenever I'm ready for spring to arrive, I love to read about gardening. In this memior, Goodman tells of a year he spent renting a house in a little village in the south of France. He really wanted to become a part of the village, and how he wedged his way in was through his garden.

The villagers offered all kinds of advice, labor, and loans of land, tools, and equipment to help the not-as-lazy-as-they-expected American have his French garden. They corrected his grammar and pronunciation and grudgingly admitted that he had done okay, for an American.

A light, enjoyable read if you like gardening and don't hate the French. I have read it more than once (I got my own copy), and I'm sure I will continue to read it in the chilly days of future winters and springs.



Connection to 'Tis:

* The French village Goodman lived in was the site of historic battles between Catholics and Protestants. Frank McCourt knew all about battles between the two groups in Ireland and the U.S. McCourt also received this unrelenting advice from almost everyone he encountered: "stick with your own kind." There was seemingly something very American and appealing to him about blonde, Protestant women, and he was drawn to them and their unknowing sinfulness. They didn't give a "fiddler's fart" about living in a state of grace or not (while he was constantly haunted by his sins and felt TOO sinful to go to confession and be absolved).