Customer Reviews

La Belle Saison: Living Off the Land in Rural France

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La Belle Saison
Patricia Atkinson

The beautiful season! It surely is. Patricia Atkinson's second book begins with the timeless Ecclesiastes verse: A time ... A time ... A time ...

"It's late August in the Dordogne as I look out over towards the valley of Bergerac from the highest point of my land."

On the verge of another harvest at her vineyard in Gageac, she welcomes us. She pours and talks.

You recall how in The Ripening Sun I moved to a country whose language I did not know to begin a life I was not prepared for? The first red wine harvest turned to vinegar. Our savings drained away. Our marriage foundered. He returned to England. "I threw myself into work with a vengeance."

Now she's an accomplished vintner writing of seasons she shares with family, friends, neighbors, and visitors like us--of hunting wild boar, wild truffles, wild pigeons, wild cepe mushrooms; vines, geese, ducks, and oysters to cultivate.

Preparing a savory meal requires devotion. "They start with Jambourra, a soup of vegetables cooked in the stock that the black pudding was boiled in." Followed by fricassee cooked slowly with onions and carrots all day with meat that "simply" melts in the mouth, then fillets and chops grillade, salad, cheese, and dessert.

She writes in winter, a thousand words at a sitting. Her style is generous and reserved. When you find Patricia, you find her with granddaughters Amy and Beth; neighbors Gilles, Odile, and Juliana; and the lovely Edge who sweats out vendanges, writes zany whimsical hopeful poems, and passes along with Geoffrey, Madame Cholet, Comte de la Verrie, and Fidde.

I was not sure that Patricia Atkinson could top her first book (The Ripening Sun), but La Belle Saison comes close. It is a wonderful series of personal stories, of a tragic death of a friend, of various French farmers, hunters, and wine makers. I salivated over the meals that she described. The only disappointment: her wines are not available in the United States. I am saving my pennies with the hope of traveling to her winery and trying her wines there!

I loved Patricia's first book, The Ripening Sun. It was fresh, interesting, engaging. So I could not wait to get this one. What a disappointment! Page after page of adjectives and adverbs describing hunting trips, truffling (briefly) and so on. I have spent some time in that area of France, and I was unaware of how many things are"succulent."

Patricia has a compelling story, but it is absent from this book. Her first book was a real winner because it had a lot going on -- from novice to expert, from married to adrift, from stranger to neighbor. This one is static, and just plain boring. I hope Patricia will keep writing, but next time we need some sort of narrative to hang all the descriptions on.

I just finished reading this book last night. I live part time in the Dordogne and had heard of Ms. Atkinson, never tasted her wines, their reputation preceding them. Next time I am there, I will make the point of going to the vineyard, tasting and purchasing and hopefully talking with the author.

I see here that some people have found fault with this book, boring, too detailed, watching paint dry... I would take issue. Ms. Atkinson describes the real life in France, a life which I often liken
to examining a minutely faceted piece of cut crystal, one facet at a time. Living in the country, being aware of their history, their land, etc
is not about the big experiences. It is about the mushroom picking. It is so about watching the hunters standing around smoking, making sure they have special bits of sustenance when they are stalking, the opinionated neighbors whose lives are centered in their villages and their daily struggle to sustain within nature etc.
The biggest thing to know here as you start to read this book is that the French "take time for time". This is a concept we Americans do not
understand. We are too efficient,and in a hurry. Life passes us by.
If you really want to understand why life in France has so affected Ms.
Atkinson and you also want to prepare yourself to seek out some "vrai France yourself, then linger over this book, small adventure by small adventure. You won't be disappointed.

The Ripening Sun was the first book of Patricia Atkinson's story of her life in France as she and her husband began a vineyard. Without telling what happens, I'll just say the books are autobiographical and it helps to know French and be interested in wine-making. I found her life in both books fascinating. But true life is interesting to me and details about French life and agriculture are interesting. The people she writes about are real and remind me of those I know in France. Worthwhile.

Pros:
incredibly detailed
Cons:
incredibly detailed

The author describes daily routines in painstaking details (emphasis on the pain). On one hand I can learn all the tedious details of tending to a vineyard or going on the hunt or picking mushrooms (sic!). On the other hand, I caught myself skipping entire pages of boring details.
In some places I could use the expression "watch paint dry".

Overall, I felt sorry for Patricia - her obsession with work, her failure to hook up with Fidde (he dropped dead from the stress and never got to enjoy the fruit of his work). I was also shocked to learn that she was more concerned about the hail which destroyed her harvest than with Fidde's passing. I admire her hard work but understand why she ended up living alone. She is a rural version of career woman.

I also found it annoying that the book contained hundreds of french expressions and sentences which haven't been translated, not even in an annex. I do have a french dictionary at home, but you get the point.

An autobiography is always a tricky subject, especially when the most interesting event of one's life is a neighbour's dog dying of old age or having oysters for dinner with friends. Perhaps Patricia should stick with making her wine at which she says she is really good. I hope her wine is more exciting than her life!

Saussignac



Row on row of purple globes

fetch a golden autumn morning mist

in Dordogne Valley Gageac



Looking out on Bergerac

semillon and muscadelle

attach themselves a noble rot



The ripening sun and Patricia cultivate



Now she picks, presses, racks and pours

into the aged oak a two year spell

for when the seasons turn



She writes of family neighbor friends

who lent themselves instead of vinegar

you may taste of honey quince and apricot.



(In Celebration of Patricia Atkinson's

The Ripening Sun and La Belle Saison)



Greg Hobbs

9/9/2006