The whole purpose of a look at the cultural mores of an entire country (and particularly one as complex and multifaceted as France) is that it observes and explains, maybe even deciphers, a number of situations so that the reader can have some idea of what to find on visiting that country. It can never avoid the fact that it is being written by a subjective person or persons, but it can try and lay some kind of claim for credibility, so that this reader, on arrival, can start to compare and contrast their own experiences with what they have read. Then it would be a guide, an aide-voyager, a teacher…
This book, however, is a diatribe, concocted by someone who I presume from the info on offer is an accomplished wine expert and entrepreneur, married to an American wife who, one can imagine, played a substantial role in shaping the sentences in their search for the Holy Grail of "witty diatribe". The problem is that the words we use sketch the thoughts behind them, and the things we omit leave the true residue in the mind of the reader. And this diatribe, by a supposedly "open-minded thinker", is full of so many closed-minded, ill-considered dead-end comments that it starts to truly irritate. It is also a diatribe bemoaning the loss of a past Eden that is written by a thirty-something year old, who sounds truly Old Before His Time.
There are some things he states in this jeremiad-dressed-up-as-entertainment that are not really debatable. France is in rather a mess at the moment, caught between self-interest on the part of many individuals and the national interest, and a need to redefine its space in the world and its industries. It is, like all wealthy developed countries, currently failing its young of all backgrounds. But the answers being put forward by its industrialists, many of whom are ensconced in the seductive honey trap of multinational tax avoidance, are all rather simplistic and self-serving: let me take over, I know how to do it (What is it then? I can't say, just let me do it…) This is the international language of the privileged assuming they know better a priori.
The focus on race, religion and the ability to speak the language the way it used to be spoken are the main concerns here. It becomes crushingly obvious and manages to let the air out of many otherwise useful observations. The links in lieu of footnotes often lead to tendentious articles from highly slanted organs like atlantico.fr. The use of "everyone" and "most people" and "the overwhelming majority think" without basis is a clear sign of the input having come from a fairly limited set of influences. One chapter gushes on about the concept of convivialité as something truly French and untranslatable without ever checking up on that far-from-uncommon English term "convivial". Indeed, one can throw many darts at British culture for things it lacks, but the conviviality of the pub and even the steak-and-kidney pie or Sunday roast served there is not something that's on the decline.
I was reading this book last week on a flight to Paris and the following day had, by chance, a short conversation with a gentleman catching the Metro. His father had been a policeman in Algeria, forced into exile because of having helped the colonial power there. The family was now based in France and Spain. They are all seen as Muslims and thrown into a single sack that covers everything from sub-Saharan Africans to Arabs to South-East Asians to people from the old Soviet Union. Indeed in the eyes of some, they are merely "a nuisance" and "terrorists". That's their recompense for being groomed as evolués.
The blinkered viewpoint of those, like Magny, who simply focus on percentages and relative rises when talking about "immigrant" population, is that they ignore the human beings at the heart of the story. Are there problems with crime? Undoubtedly. Are there too many disaffected youths willing to immolate themselves with innocent targets? Likewise. Is the answer the Front Nationale and a return to what it meant to be French in a non-existent bygone age? Highly unlikely. Is there too much taxation? Maybe. Does taxation serve a purpose? Indeed it does, and one could even argue that above all it serves the entrepreneurs who are gifted a more or less stable economy and a suitably buoyant middle class. But my point here isn't to preach at anyone. In fact it's the opposite. People have their beliefs and they are entitled to them. Sometimes those beliefs evolve. What is truly important is to understand and feel and apply the values that underlie them. Embezzlement is embezzlement, whoever does it. Free speech is not about repeating loaded canards from the past, but about being willing to articulate one's desires honestly. Ignoring the desires of the people who do not have your background or beliefs means that this is not a guide to the French at all. It is a guide to one particular sector of the French.
Also telling is the use of so many epithets, as if these terms summed up the person or their acts. The figure of the "bobo", or bourgeois boheme, supposedly the "most hated" form of bourgeois in France is a case in point. These are the people known as "champagne socialists" in other countries. They are used as an Emmanuel Goldstein figure (see Orwell's 1984) by people of privilege to rustle up support among the underprivileged. Their crime? To advocate more fairness of opportunity, more distribution of resources, but also appreciation of sophisticated art/culture/cuisine. Leftists with good jobs. Insofar as they don't do the job they're being paid for, they are indeed execrable (or indeed if they buy themselves €40,000 watches partly in undeclared cash), but if they are good at their job, where is the problem? And why the hatred? But when I looked up one of Magny's linked articles on atlantico.fr (the one on taxes on people earning more capital than wages), just below it was an excoriating article on this figure of the bobo. These are old moves, transparently self-serving and presented without any insight other than the pejorative.
And while we're at it, one of my pet peeves as an enjoyer of wine is the way that restaurants often mark up the bottles so much that what they are earning is 7 or 8 times what the company that made the wine in the first place is making. Indeed they often price reasonable bottles out of the range of their less well-heeled diners. The argument wielded by restaurants is that they "make no money" on the food and have to make it on the wine, an argument that I find a little spurious if they are scaring potential wine drinkers off to the water or beer menu, but okay let's let it sit over there for a moment. Olivier Magny, as he points out - and indeed plugs - owns two wine bars in Paris, both of which look very attractive and which offer a large number of wines by the glass, which I'm all for. However, here, as wine bars, the issue of the "loss-making" food would not be applicable (although they do offer some dishes, this is not their main source of earnings). However, a quick glance at the well-compiled wine list reveals that the mark up on the bottles starts at 3-4 times the retail price and goes up to 5-6 times on some bottles. I'm sure these two places are indeed expensive to run, and I haven't seen how small they might be, and I don't in any way begrudge people making money on good ideas or good products or plenty of added value, or even really nice locations, but this is a pretty big margin being made on the back of someone else's expertise, using the general lack of knowledge of wine prices, or of wine in general. I am sure he would have plenty of arguments to offer in his favour. I, in turn, would say that I can see myself on my next visit to Paris going to one or other of these wine bars and enjoying their excellent range. But there are two sets of interests here. They may fall into compatibility because I can say "what the hell" and disregard my peeve, and just pay. Magny will make money from me. But to my mind it will still be an inefficient transaction, a bare-minimum deal, probably one that isn't repeated as many times as it could be. And this between two players who understand the same sphere. Now take that thought and apply it to all the different interests pullulating around the multifaceted nation that is France…
I think Magny, to write this kind of book (I don't include his books on wine or Paris in this admonishment, although I haven't read them, so who knows?), really has to get out more and talk to more different kinds of people.