My life in France, thus far, has consisted of a few days here and there, scattered with many croissants and much Nutella. And a lot of “mon français est pauvre, mais je suis en train!” That’s my best sentence in French – I say it a lot when confronted with real, actual French people, or when I’m in real, actual France myself.
But I recently finished Julia Child’s book My Life in France (on a trip home from Singapore, strangely) and it’s suddenly very easy to see why this large, lanky lady captivated the country for so many years.
Did you know that she failed her final exam at Le Cordon Bleu the first time? That she used to work for the OSS – what is now the modern-day CIA? And that her book was rejected multiple times before being published? And did any of that get her down? No it did not!
My new answer to that old question “If you could have dinner with anyone, dead or alive…” just might be Julia Child. As long as we got to cook the dinner together first.
And if you’re looking for a book that will both delight and inspire, My Life in France cannot be recommend highly enough.