Product Description

In the tradition of Italian Neighbors and A Walk Across France, this spirited, captivating memoir traces American Ann Barry's adventures as she follows her dream of living in the French countryside. "As beguiling and delectable as France itself."--Mimi Sheraton.

Product Details

• Amazon Sales Rank: #664894 in Books
• Published on: 1997-03-11
• Released on: 1997-03-11
• Original language: English
• Number of items: 1
• Binding: Paperback
• 256 pages

From Publishers Weekly
Not every writer who owns a house in France publishes a book about its pleasures and pains. Even among such owners, Barry, a food and travel writer and former editor at the New Yorker and the New York Times, is exceptional, because she does not actually live in her house in Carennac, a village in southwestern France near the Dordogne; she only visits it for two or three weeks a year. When she is there, she reads, jogs, cooks, hosts friends from home and explores the nearby regions. Because her visits are so short, her experiences in her village seem confined to finding a neighbor to keep her keys for her and someone to garage her car while she's away, and food shopping at wonderful country markets. She writes grippingly about her search for the best bread and vividly profiles familiar native types with whom she is acquainted. Her writing skill makes much of little.
Copyright 1995 Reed Business Information, Inc.

From Library Journal
Barry, the former travel editor at The New Yorker and the New York Times, describes her experiences as a homeowner in the Lot region in southwestern France. With no intention of moving permanently to France, she was pleased to have her own base of operations in a country she loved to visit several times a year. The usual attractions of provincial France are here: food, wine, local markets, reserved French locals, and a sense of time passage unfamiliar to a fast-paced New Yorker. Not quite the charmer of Peter Mayle's Year in Provence (LJ 4/1/90), Barry's account does not offer food as delicious nor the French neighbors and tradespeople as quirky as in Mayle's best seller, but the same attraction to the French provinces by the English-speaking foreigner appeals in Barry's work. Recommended for general travel collections.
Mary Ann Parker, California Dept. of Water Resources Law Lib., Sacramento
Copyright 1996 Reed Business Information, Inc.

From Scientific American
Ann Barry tells her tale directly and clearly, without cloying artifice or guile, so that it has the warmth, honesty, and force of a long letter from an old friend. She makes her reader a welcome houseguest in her much-loved little cottage in the heart of France.

Customer Reviews

A Moving Memoir by An American At Home in France
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"At Home in France" rings true. Ann Barry's touch is unerring. Light. But the tales of her days in France are mysteriously moving. A fine, fine memoir.

At the end of "At Home in France" a note "About the author" says all too briefly: "A former editor at The New Yorker and The New York Times, Ann Barry wrote extensively on travel and food. She died in 1996."

Like other readers, we wondered what were the circumstances of Ann Barry's death? After searching for several hours, we found the sad answer in the archives of The New York Times in an obituary (Feb 19, 1996) titled "Ann Barry, Editor and Writer, 53."

Ann Barry "who pursued a freelance writing career while working as an editor at The New York Times and at The New Yorker" had died of cancer two days earlier at the Mount Sinai Medical Center in New York. "She lived in Brooklyn."

Near the end of the obituary, the unnamed writer states that: "Although she wrote on a variety of subjects. Miss Barry, who left The New Yorker in 1994, particularly enjoyed writing about the Dordogne region of southwestern France, where, not coincidentally, she owned a vacation home." It continues: "Although she could only spend two or three weeks there a year, Miss Barry kept such meticulous track of her intense short-term experiences that she turned them into a book, "At Home in France: Tales of an American and Her House Abroad." It is being published by Ballantine next month."

The obituary says nothing about a funeral or memorial service for Ann Barry. We have to think that, although she was from St. Louis, lived in Brooklyn and died in Manhattan, her heart lies in France and she is enjoying (as she wrote): "the most beautiful moment Carennac had ever seen. And then we made our way home though the magical night." She is at home in France.

Enjoyable, Warmly Human, Ultimately Bittersweet and Moving
I was very moved by this memoir and would recommend it to anyone (it feels far more immediate and emotionally rewarding, for instance, than Frances Mayes' "Under the Tuscan Sun").

Unlike some that explore the same territory here (culture shock, setting up housekeeping in a foreign land, quirks of the locals, history of the region and its landmarks, discovery of cuisine and surroundings), there is subtle artistry in the way it's written, gentle looks into the basic human goodness of the French people in her circle, and knowing that the author died of cancer in middle-age before ever seeing this book published brings a bittersweet feel that grows as the last page nears (mentioning in passing in the final chapter, for instance, that she will skip a planned trip to a spa that year due to an event taking place in the village and that the spa will always be there next year has a strong resonance, as you immediately realize and want to call out protectively to her, Yes it will be there, but you will not]).

Aside from the introduction to French life and characters, I found myself more transfixed by what I saw in Ann Barry herself -- a loner who never feels so right in the world as when she is on her own, and especially when in France as her truest self, even relishing that she has no telephone and can't be infringed upon by the outside world.

Knowing that Ms. Barry will die after 12+ years of sharing her journey, I found myself not just reading the story but considering questions of self and meaning in life, and feeling a bit sad for a woman who never connected with a significant other and that the scars of childhood in a somewhat dysfunctional family were far-reaching, as is the case with so many of us. (That sounds depressing, but it's more a consistent subtext here that one attuned will see, and that, to me, enriched my interest in the work. Many people may read the book not coming away with that at all.)

If you enjoy vicarious life and episodic memoir of someone who DID IT rather than THOUGHT ABOUT IT, I can think of no finer memoir that I've read of late, and I'm sure I will continue to think about the questions this raised in me about how we live our lives and what it all means and what good we can do for this world before we leave it, and for that I'm grateful to Ms. Barry for this work.

Bittersweet
Ann Barry's book is a great read! I spent this summer day sitting in a chaise lounge reading "At Home in France" from cover to cover. Her conversational style is very appealing, and as a former french language student of many years, I embraced the opportunity to brush up, dictionary at my side.

I loved everything about the book from Ann's domestic crises to descriptions of the marketplace to the relationships with her neighbors and other townspeople to the details of mouthwatering menus.

I want to bravely enjoy my life, even if alone, as Ann did. Not letting her aloneness stop her. I want to be at home in France.

I didn't learn of her death until after reading the book--a bittersweetness revelation. I would love to have read more.