Les bergers landais: shepherds on stilts (from the book)
A book review in yesterday's Observer reminded me of a day my back was turned in Paris and this story crept on to page one of the Daily Telegraph, for which I then worked:
Language, history, cooking and support for rival football teams still divide Europe. But when everything else fails, one glue binds the continent together: hatred of the French.
Typically, the French refuse to accept what arrogant, overbearing monsters they are.
The article proceeded in similar knockabout fashion.
It was not, as it happens, the way the reporter had phrased it. The poor man rang in to register a heartfelt protest after being given grief by his very French wife, who had reacted, well, Frenchly - and especially to the slur contained in that damning and wholly unattributed second paragraph.
There was a bit of follow-up polemic. Le Figaro's London correspondent denounced the wicked Telegraph, although inconveniently for him, his angry riposte appeared on the same day as a second DT piece, commissioned from me, in praise of the French. I even found myself addressing students at the Sciences Po about it.
It seemed clear to me then that there was no justification for virulently anti-French views to be stated as fact in what was meant to be a news story. But no one should really have been surprised to come across frogbashing in the Telegraph and some balance was achieved with the publication of my opposing view on a comment page (where such things belong) next day.
But is the Observer not a slightly odder place to find as nakedly Francophobic a rant as Andrew Hussey's review of the Discovery of France, a new book* by Graham Robb, a seasoned biographer of French literary giants?
Dismissing France as an essentially rotten, worthless shadow of its former self, Hussey parades thoughts that might as easily have sprung from the keyboard of a Simon Heffer or Richard Littlejohn.
Any Anglo-Saxon who writes about France is accused at least some of the time of being anti-French. I am no exception, even if I view the country and its people with rather more affection than most. I have repeatedly highlighted the absurdities of political, social and administrative life that undeniably occur in a country I nevertheless love.
Yet I could pick a fight with Hussey on virtually every point he makes. He starts by telling us that the world has lost interest in France. Only the "age-old sport of French-bashing, now equally popular on both sides of the Atlantic, reminds us of the existence of the French at all," he says.
Read his article in full to form your own view. I will restrict myself to the following:
"French politics are a model of duplicity and corruption"
.....unlike the British or American varieties? At least French politicians of all persuasions opposed the squalid war in Iraq, the level of consensus comfortably dealing with charges of selfish national interests being the only motivation
"French cinema has not produced anything worth watching in decades"
...... except for Joyeux Noel, Amélie, Indochine, Les Choristes (The Chorus), Camping, Indigènes (Days of Glory) and rather a lot more
"French cooking is said to be in terminal decline"
....... I'd still sooner dine in France than almost anywhere else, and am less likely to be ripped off than in London; it's just a matter of knowing where to go and where to avoid
"Even Paris wears an old-fashioned air"
........ three hearty cheers for that
"Its young people...flock to New York and London in search of employment"
....... while hordes of Brits who do not buy Hussey's generalisations head the other way in search of a better quality of life
"Its poorest citizens - those who rioted in November 2005 - are dismissed as "scum" by its president"
......... no supporter of Sarkozy, Salut! has pointed out the flaws in this bald statement. His remarks were incautious, but were made BEFORE THE RIOTING in direct response to a woman of north African origin who demanded to know what he was going to do about the racaille - which can mean rabble as well as scum - who were making life a misery of her estate.
A review of a review is one thing. A review of the book under review is another, and would naturally be better. That omission may be rectified in due course. But I can announce, thanks to the kind co-operation of Picador, that Robb's book is my prize in the competition described in the previous posting.
* Graham Robb: The Discovery of France (Picador), 400pp, £18.99. Buy it here for nearly £6 less, provided you don't fancy your chances in the competition, do live where the postage-free offer applies and can add a tiny bit to reach the minimum £15 purchase level.
* Apologies to any readers who have witnessed the tortured progress of this posting. It was hit by a string of problems, somehow leaving me at one point with a very early draft - unchecked, typos galore, links not added - replacing what was then the final, spruced-up version but which I lost for ever in the process.
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