Product Description

From Peter Mayle, a wonderful new novel steeped in wine—and the business of wine?and set in, bien sûr, Provence.

Max Skinner is not exactly setting the London financial world on fire?and when his supervisor steals his biggest client, it’s definitely time to inspect the vineyard in Provence that his recently departed uncle left him. Heartily and happily distracted upon his arrival by the landscape, the weather, and the food?not to mention the gorgeous notaire handling the estate and the stunning owner of the local bistro?Max almost forgets about his inherited property.

Which might have been a good idea, because the wine produced there is swill. But then why, Max has to wonder, is his caretaker so anxious to acquire the land? When a beautiful young woman from California arrives with what might be a legitimate claim on the estate, and knowledge of vineyards that far outstrips Max’s own, the plot begins its twists and turns into and out of truly wonderful complications and resolutions.

This is luscious reading?soothing us with the sensual wonders of Provence while it tells a fascinating tale of the hugely lucrative and competitive boutique-wine trade. It is Peter Mayle’s most satisfying, most delectable novel yet.

Product Details

• Amazon Sales Rank: #437114 in Books
• Published on: 2004-06-01
• Released on: 2004-06-01
• Original language: English
• Number of items: 1
• Binding: Hardcover
• 304 pages

From Publishers Weekly
Mayle's breezy, uncomplicated fifth novel (Chasing Cezanne, etc.) and ninth book follows 30-something Max Skinner from a sabotaged financial career in London to his adoption of the Provençal lifestyle on an inherited vineyard in France. Max spent holidays at his Uncle Henry's vineyard as a child, so when he inherits the place, the prospect of returning is tempting; a generous "bridging loan" from ex-brother-in-law Charlie seals the deal. The estate, Le Griffon, is in a dire state of disrepair and the wine cellar is filled with bottles of a dreadful-tasting swill, but it's nothing that vineyard caretaker Claude Roussel and prim housekeeper Madame Passepartout can't resolve. Max settles into his new life easily thanks to the attentions of local notary Nathalie Auzet and busty cafe owner Fanny. The arrival of young Californian "wine brat" Christie Roberts, Uncle Henry's long-lost daughter, complicates matters for Max, but her surprise offer and Charlie's arrival lessen the impact of a vicious vineyard scandal involving a delicious, high-priced, discreetly produced wine called Le Coin Perdu. Mayle's simple story provides lighthearted if unadventurous reading and a fond endorsement of the pleasures of viniculture.
Copyright © Reed Business Information, a division of Reed Elsevier Inc. All rights reserved.

From The Washington Post
Even a hyperactive terrier will sometimes melt to the floor, paws in the air and tongue alop, when he's approached by someone he trusts. But will he get a soul-satisfying belly rub this time or just a quick pat and tickle? The expectant pooch never knows.

So it is for fans of Peter Mayle, who became the adoptive bard of Provence with his phenomenally successful A Year in Provence. Will admirers open the ex-advertising man's ninth book and find the Mayle whose eye for detail and ear for language make for satisfying wallows in the south of France (the original Year, Hotel Pastis, Anything Considered) or the Mayle who sometimes slices the saucisson a bit thin in an effort to perpetuate his franchise (Toujours Provence, Encore Provence)?

The short answer is that A Good Year, Mayle's latest fictional confection, winds up slightly in the latter category. Once again we have the beleaguered Brit at an unhappy crossroad. In Hotel Pastis it was Simon Shaw being stripped bare by his newly minted ex-wife; in Anything Considered it was Bennett, the Brit on his uppers trying to score by flushing toilets in closed-up manor houses to keep an invented strain of dung beetles from invading the plumbing lines (that actually was funny). And once again the sunny south comes to the rescue, with the potential for making a living without losing one's soul, with a rasher of busty, leggy women and, of course, with good food and drink.

But, as the creators of television's "Law and Order" understand, why tamper with a winning formula? And thus are we launched into the marginal life of Max Skinner, a London investment banker suddenly deal-less and jobless on the streets of the City, where the day's weather forecast is for "scattered showers, followed by outbreaks of heavier rain, with a chance of hail."

And all this is followed, in Peter Mayle's classic caper formula, by timely good luck (inheritance, on the very day he loses his job, of a beloved uncle's big old house and vineyard in the hilly Luberon region of Provence), more good luck (dishy village maidens and a languid new lifestyle to explore), a halfway-engaging intrigue (an unknown American rival for the estate and the mysterious interest in vines that seem to produce nothing but pipi de chat -- you know, cat pee) and then more good luck (they all drink happily every after). Coming soon to a movie theater near you, thanks to filmmaker Ridley Scott, whose "nose for a good story" got Mayle started on the rather thin plot and who already has "A Good Year" in production.

Are we just being cranky? Maybe. There really is a comfort factor that assures long, profitable lives to characters -- fictional detectives, for instance -- whose next formula book readers learn to anticipate. But when the formula is presented practically bare-bones, with only cursory attempts at embellishment, heretofore faithful readers may walk away feeling they've been snookered.

Mayle's deftness with detail -- grace notes rather than entire imagery-laden passages -- has been thoroughly catalogued. But there's detail that moves you right along: "He turned off the N7 toward Rognes and followed the narrow road that twisted through groves of pine and oak, warm air coming through the open window, the sound of Patrick Bruel whispering 'Parlez-moi d'amour' trickling like honey from the radio." (Okay, moves you along with a little huffing and puffing.) And then there's detail that stops you cold: " 'Air France to Marseille?' The girl at the desk didn't even bother to consult her computer. 'Out of luck there, sir. Air France doesn't fly direct to Marseille from London anymore. I could try British Airways.' "

Yes, by all means, please do.

The caper in A Good Year revolves around a mysterious small-batch cult wine that never makes it to the wine store and trades as an investment. But given that the bulk of Mayle's faithful are presumed Francophiles and therefore at least marginally interested in viticulture, the false note on page 90 is perplexing. As Max inspects his vineyard for the first time he finds a piece of his land that "sloped away gently down to the east. . . . the surface appeared to consist entirely of jagged limestone pebbles, blinding white in the sun, warm to the touch, an immense natural radiator. It seemed unlikely that even the most undemanding of weeds could find sufficient nourishment to grow here. And yet the vines appeared to be healthy."

Perhaps Max has never read descriptions of the poor, gravelly soil in many of the finest districts of Bordeaux, source of some of the priciest wines in the world. But those who have done so are doomed to spend the next 197 pages wondering why Mayle would give the game away so early. Kindly interpretation: We're meant to read on, smiling slightly, feeling superior to poor Max. Or, darker thought: Mayle thinks we're clueless enough to fall for this.

Even as venerable a novelist as Graham Greene recognized that lighter fare -- Our Man in Havana, Stamboul Train -- had a role to play in his life as a writer and ours as readers. He nonetheless flinched slightly, labeling these works "entertainments." As entertaining as Peter Mayle can be, he might aim a bit higher -- if not for his own entertainment, then for ours.

Wafer-thin saucisson, oui. Pipi de chat on the rocks? Non!

Copyright 2004, The Washington Post Co. All Rights Reserved.

From Booklist
Uber-expatriate Mayle once again flings the doors wide open upon the sunny landscape and not-always-as-provincial-as-they-seem denizens of Provence in another of his wise, witty, and sophisticated novels that many equally sophisticated readers have developed quite an appetite for. In the simplest of terms, this one is about the wine trade. Max Skinner is a young player in the London financial world who hasn't been performing up to snuff on the job lately; one day he finds himself demoted and left with no option but to resign from the firm. As fate would have it--the hand of God, in other words--Max simultaneously receives a letter informing him that his recently deceased and much-loved uncle has willed his estate and vineyard in Provence to Max. With money borrowed from his former brother-in-law, Max relocates there, and his true adventures begin; he thought his life had collapsed into an absolute mess, but instead, he has been awarded a challenging and moral-fiber-strengthening new focus and outlet. Yes, indeed, complications arise--namely, what duplicity are the caretaker and the local femme-fatale lawyer practicing on Max? The entertaining threads in this absolutely embracing novel are woven into a vibrant design. Brad Hooper
Copyright © American Library Association. All rights reserved

Customer Reviews

A foreign land to call home
After writing a couple of non-fiction books about being a foreigner in Provence, Peter Mayle deals with the fictional side of living in that region -- or so it seems. In an opening note, the write claims that his "A Good Year" is a work of fiction, however, `between the lines there were several real people involved'. Fact or fiction it doesn't matter -- what matter is that he wrote a charming little novel about the changes that life brings us and his character copes them.

Max Skinner loses his job in a financial firm in London, in the same day he inherits a vineyard in France, that belonged to an uncle. Since Max has spent much of his childhood there, he has a connection with that house, that land, and at this point, "A Good Year" becomes a book about going back to the place where you belong to.

It will take some time to Max realize that, but meanwhile he will meet a couple of people who will change his life. If Mayle's narrative is never profound, or his characters never rise above the stereotypical, his book is interesting exactly because of these factors. "A Good Year" doesn't aspire to be a great book about serious issues. It is a light, funny and charming novel to be read between two heavy, serious and demanding books.

Mayle's prose is painted in Provence's paints, with local color and charm. His characters are probably based on people he met, and although not very believable they are still pleasant. Evocative, the prose is direct and fast, what keep those pages turning very quickly.

If Mayle's objective was to bring his readers part of Provence and what is living there -- his mission was accomplished with charm. A better portray of the region one can only have visiting the real thing -- and it would be very nice to have Mayle as the guide.

Off to the beach
Put on your swimsuit, slather up with sunscreen, and don't forget the headphones! This audio version of A Good Year is the perfect beach companion. Light, amusing, well performed, and tres francais! Just the thing for relaxing on your sand chair. You might want to bring some wine as well, as these characters do all but swim in it! Not as good as A Year in Provence, but fun anyway.

A Votre Santé
A Good Year is the first I've read by Peter Mayle. I did not know that it had been headed to Hollywood, but one certainly suspects it. The book reads like a screenplay. Colorful characters, enchanting settings and whimsical plotline set up perfectly for a 110 minute trip to southern France on the big screen. After sailing through a very light 287 pages, I feel I've been 'en vacances.'

Descending upon the tiny village of Saint Pons for the summer are: Max Skinner, our hero who has been tossed out of his financial job in London, but immediately inherits a house with vineyard, Le Griffon, in Provence; Christie, a Californian cousin with a possible claim to the beautiful property; and Charlie, brother-in-law and money lender to Max. They join the locals: Monsieur Rousseau, caretaker to the vineyard; Fanny, a temptingly beautiful restaurant owner; Nathalie Auzet, the fashionable local notary; and Madame Passepartout, the matronly housekeeper and village gossip.

The storyline bounces from meal to meal, as nothing happens unless accompanied by sausages, paté, tarte aux pommes, pastis, marc and plenty of red wine. Meals at the village café, at the restaurant, at Le Griffon, and most magnificently at the Rousseau home are described in succulent detail. Evidently, someone is getting wealthy from mysteriously grown grapevines at the far, dusty edge of the property, and therein lies the plot. An ex-advertising executive, Mayle pokes good fun at the culture of wine marketing.

Further coloring the screenplay are the budding romances and the ultimate question of will Max make Le Griffon his home and livelihood. Hardly suspenseful, but what summer vacation is?