French Dirt: The Story of a Garden in the South of France

i read the customer reviews for this book and thought i was in for a real treat. 4 stars , 5 stars--what in the world were these people reading. the book was boring, silly and a pretty much waste of time. one review, which much to my chagrin, blasted the book for what it is, was not available before i made my purchase. this guy goes to the south of france -why? he's bored with the big city? makes a few friends and grows his first ever veggie garden. so what!!! the book has no point. forget about it!!!!

This delightful short novel explores the author (an American) and his girlfriend's endeavors to cultivate friends and fruit in the south of France. I found myself walking alongside Richard as he introduced himself to his first real friend, Monsier Vasquez, as he binged on plant buying, as he picked his first vegetable. His description of the prank in which one of the least likely villagers placed perfect red, ripe tomatoes in his garden in early June was hilarious. For anyone wanting to experience living in a small French village this book vividly plants you there!

Richard Goodman's year in France produced more than a beautiful garden, it also produced a wonderful book! Needing a break from the hustle and bustle of New York, Goodman and his girlfriend Iggy rent a house in a tiny village in France for a whole year to just get away. Wanting to connect with this town and its' people, Goodman offers his help to those who will take it. In doing so, he comes in close contact with the land itself which leads him to decide he will grow his own garden.

What follows is this man's love affair with the people, the land and the simple act of creating and nurturing life in his small plot of earth. Wonderfully told in beautiful prose, Goodman's story will leave you feeling happy and content and, oddly enough, wanting to grow your own garden although perhaps in your own backyard.

A better title would have been American Dirt, because that's about what this book is worth. The story is mighty weak and told, not shown, in platitudes designed to pander to the popular taste. The characters are shadowy and one-dimentional. We don't even get to know the author or Iggy, his wife, nor do we learn about their marriage or why or how they broke up or if indeed they were married in the first place. The background landscape, which is supposed to be a little village in the south of France seems fake to me, or is rendered fake, one or the other. I should know since my Mom was French and my family lived in St. Jean de Cornices, a small village 27 kilometers north of Montpellier. Also, I am an avid gardener here in Texas as a I was in Provence. So I know Goodman's knowledge of gardening is superficial, silly, and even at times stupid. He wouldn't know a determinate tomato from an indeterminate tomato. He certainly doesn't know that bamboo in the wild doesn't grow beige. It's green and thus the author's (too)long description about harvesting beige bamboo is baloney. Here's what I think happened: He had to write about something to justify the stay so he picked gardening to try to cash in the way Peter Mayle did. Unfortunately, he doesn't have the personality, wit, or the language skills (French or English) to approach Mayle. Consequently, the writing is flat, forced, and spiritless. Do yourself a favor and read something else. How about Mayle's now classic A Year in Provence?

I borrowed this book from a library a few years ago and haven't seen it since. During the two weeks I had it, I walked around the house repeating Richard Goodman's pungent phrases, causing my roommate to wonder what I was babbling about "crisp, dirty carrots". His imagery brings his garden to life before your eyes. Now that I am a gardener myself, I appreciate his vision and his bright words more than ever. A real jewel for anyone who enjoys gardening or France.