They came to France to cruise the Rhone River through Provence on a private, luxurious river boat. It was to be a voyage of discovery, a cruise through the heartland of the French countryside, with visits to the river villages and towns that inspired the great artists of the19th century. The travelers would discover the delights of Provencal cooking, tour the hills of Lyon, see an ancient Papal Palace, and walk the ancient cobbled streets of beautiful Arles, where Vincent Van Gogh painted so many of his masterpieces of Impressionism. Along the way, the passengers also discover each other, as they share the stories of their lives and dreams. At the end of the voyage, they realize the retirement years can be a time of a joyful self-discovery for those who seek it.
I don't have a clue why I continued to read this terribly written book to the end. I picked it up because it was about retired people taking a ship cruise to the south of France. The ship was like our Russia cruise last year and the places the tourists visited were those we visited in the south of France the year before. But the characters were wooden, the dialog abominable (the worst I can say about it is that it's the kind of dialog I write, which is why I don't write fiction). Mildly interesting plot points evaporated without our knowing how, conversations among the travelers made me want to scream. But, dumb me, I finished the book. And I never, ever have to read it again. Ever.
You've heard of "coming of age" books; this is a "coming of retirement age" book. I primarily picked this book because of the river cruise through part of France, and I'm contemplating a trip to France this fall; however, the cruise was only secondary, and the story was barely OK. It was a sweet story, but the characters were too preachy in their dialogue.