More lifestyle porn. Jesus, another A Year in Provence, Under the Tuscan Sun -esque memoir of an over-privileged hack who buys an old place in a foreign land and fixes it up. She makes it appear in this book that she is so original in wanting to buy a romantic old farm in France. Who the fuck wouldn’t want to do this if they had the resources? This book should be subtitled: Every noun must have an adjective, every verb an adverb. Here she is talking about her idyllic wonderland:

And, in among all of these gregarious and bohemian activities, I slip away unnoticed to a cool stone room of my own, lined head to foot with books, sprawling with maps and dictionaries, switch on my computer and settle down peacefully to write.

Maybe I’m being too snarky but it sure seems to me like she could use the practice…and an editor. Can you bear to read more?

“Summer is slipping away, like the silent falling of petals [Don’t petals fall in spring?]. Everyone has left, and we are on our own. The swallows gather, autumn sets in, rustic and rather rainy.”

There is a bit about olives to be learned but it just isn’t worth the effort.