Encore Provence : New Adventures in the South of France

by Peter Mayle

Release Date: 25 April, 2000

Edition: Paperback

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Encore, Monsieur Mayle! Encore!

Ahhhhh. I just finished Encore Provence and I have to say it was well worth the wait! I have read each of Peter Mayle's other Provence books three times and I was quite eager to dive into his latest. I am a Francofile, having lived in Paris for six months in 1994-1995. I had the pleasure of visiting Provence for only a short time, but I fell in love with the area. Peter Mayle has a riveting writing style and I feel as if I am on his adventures with him. His use of French words in italics is an excellent device. I understand it can be a bit off-putting to non French speakers, but for me, it is a wonderful, short walk down memory lane. More than any other author I've read, with the exception of Papa Hemingway, Mayle has the ability to draw me into his books. Halfway through Encore Provence, I was on my way to the local liquor store to stock up on several nice bottles of Cotes du Rhone! I hope M. Mayle continues to write about the south of France for years to come. If not, I can always reread his trilogy each year. Bravo!

Running out of steam. . .

"Encore" is the third of Mayle's Provence books, and he's definitely running out of material. This book is much more a collection of essays than "Toujours," and indeed Mayle might be better off publishing similar future work this way. I can envision the chapters of this book appearing as articles in The New Yorker, but I found a whole book a little tedious. Some chapters are fascinating still--I particularly liked "How to Be a Nose," about a school for the blind that trains students to work in the perfume industry, or the chapter on olive oil, "Discovering Oil." Much less interesting is the chapter on the NY restaurant critic, which turns into a guidebook on special shops to buy gourmet items. Mayle is also quite defensive about the criticism he's received that his books have turned the region into a tourist destination, and his final chapter maintains all is as before "A Year in Provence." Maybe true, for a wealthy British writer before real estate prices soared!