Rating: 
Summary: Charm without pretension-how refreshing
Review: ---------------------------------------------------------------"At Home in France" rings true. Ann Barry's touch is unerring. Light. But the tales of her days in France are mysteriously moving. A fine, fine memoir. At the end of "At Home in France" a note "About the author" says all too briefly: "A former editor at The New Yorker and The New York Times, Ann Barry wrote extensively on travel and food. She died in 1996." Like other readers, we wondered what were the circumstances of Ann Barry's death? After searching for several hours, we found the sad answer in the archives of The New York Times in an obituary (Feb 19, 1996) titled "Ann Barry, Editor and Writer, 53." Ann Barry "who pursued a freelance writing career while working as an editor at The New York Times and at The New Yorker" had died of cancer two days earlier at the Mount Sinai Medical Center in New York. "She lived in Brooklyn." Near the end of the obituary, the unnamed writer states that: "Although she wrote on a variety of subjects. Miss Barry, who left The New Yorker in 1994, particularly enjoyed writing about the Dordogne region of southwestern France, where, not coincidentally, she owned a vacation home." It continues: "Although she could only spend two or three weeks there a year, Miss Barry kept such meticulous track of her intense short-term experiences that she turned them into a book, "At Home in France: Tales of an American and Her House Abroad." It is being published by Ballantine next month." The obituary says nothing about a funeral or memorial service for Ann Barry. We have to think that, although she was from St. Louis, lived in Brooklyn and died in Manhattan, her heart lies in France and she is enjoying (as she wrote): "the most beautiful moment Carennac had ever seen. And then we made our way home though the magical night." She is at home in France.
Rating:
Summary: Bittersweet
Review: Ann Barry's book is a great read! I spent this summer day sitting in a chaise lounge reading "At Home in France" from cover to cover. Her conversational style is very appealing, and as a former french language student of many years, I embraced the opportunity to brush up, dictionary at my side. I loved everything about the book from Ann's domestic crises to descriptions of the marketplace to the relationships with her neighbors and other townspeople to the details of mouthwatering menus. I want to bravely enjoy my life, even if alone, as Ann did. Not letting her aloneness stop her. I want to be at home in France. I didn't learn of her death until after reading the book--a bittersweetness revelation. I would love to have read more.
Rating:
Summary: Bittersweet
Review: Ann Barry's book is a great read! I spent this summer day sitting in a chaise lounge reading "At Home in France" from cover to cover. Her conversational style is very appealing, and as a former french language student of many years, I embraced the opportunity to brush up, dictionary at my side. I loved everything about the book from Ann's domestic crises to descriptions of the marketplace to the relationships with her neighbors and other townspeople to the details of mouthwatering menus. I want to bravely enjoy my life, even if alone, as Ann did. Not letting her aloneness stop her. I want to be at home in France. I didn't learn of her death until after reading the book--a bittersweetness revelation. I would love to have read more.
Rating:
Summary: Ann Barry obituary - from the New York Times
Review: Ann Barry, Editor And Writer, 53
(NYT) 245 words
Published: February 19, 1996
Ann Barry, who pursued a freelance writing career while working as an editor at The New York Times and at The New Yorker, died of cancer on Saturday at the Mount Sinai Medical Center. She was 53 and lived in Brooklyn.
Miss Barry, who was born in St. Louis and graduated from St. Louis University, started as an editorial assistant at the The New Yorker in 1967 before moving down the street to The Times in 1975.
While designing and editing the Sunday Arts and Leisure Guide, editing art and dance reviews and designing the daily cultural pages, she began contributing articles to The Times, a career she continued and expanded after she returned to The New Yorker in 1990 as managing editor of the Goings On About Town section.
Although she wrote on a variety of subjects, Miss Barry, who left The New Yorker in 1994, particularly enjoyed writing about the Dordogne region of southwestern France, where, not coincidentally, she owned a vacation home.
Although she could spend only two or three weeks there a year, Miss Barry kept such meticulous track of her intense short-term experiences that she turned them into a book, "At Home in France: Tales of an American and Her House Abroad." It is being published by Ballantine next month.
She is survived by a brother, Gene, of Palm Harbor, Fla.
Rating:
Summary: Lovely, Yet Bittersweet Memoir
Review: As travel memoirs go, this was decidely a disappointment. Ann Barry never seemed to really BE "At Home in France". Perhaps she was a too-serious, distant and compartmentalized personality for me to enjoy on a personal level, as she often seems humorless and ambivalent, despite her declarations of affection for her house in rural France. In fact, her affection for her house seems greater than that for her neighbors. Oddly, though, she never changes any of the previous owners' furnishings or interior and exterior aspects of the house (or is not even interested enough herself to mention it if she did). After 12 years of 4-weeks-per-year visits, she was only beginning to make the effort of befriending her community, and seems mostly to be "on vacation" rather than "at home." There is no conclusion to the story, as she died before the book was published (evidently an untimely middle-age death that is not explained to the reader). The few pleasant passages are dulled by a preponderance of lukewarm or half-finished vignettes. Unsatisfying.
Rating: 
Summary: Gobble it up!
Review: I do not recommend this book - unless you are like me and must gobble up every spoonful you can get about the French and their lives and customs, especially if you are looking for info about the French paysans and not Parisians per se. The author is a skilled writer, and many of her insights and stories are interesting. On the other hand, there aer some places in this book where the only thing that kept me driving through to read it was my insatiable appetite for the information she had to present. Reading this book will not make the reader fall in love with France. You have to already be in love with it.
Rating:
Summary: At home with Ann Barry
Review: I found this book thoroughly enjoyable. Unlike so many books in this genre (The Tuscan Sun comes immediately to mind), it neither romanticizes nor patronizes the locals, it is blessedly free of "authentic" recipes and the minutiae of "improvements", and the author is plain likable, despite--or because of?--her periodic failings as a "proprietaire." If she's far more interested in the genealogy of the cottage's previous owners than the genus and species of the winter intruder that left a trail of "caca," (see Kirkus review), I, for one, do not fault her. Knowing that she died before her lovely memoir was published leant a poignancy to my reading--how sad to think that her beloved cottage opens to her no more. (Does anyone know circumstances of her death?)
Rating: 
Summary: It's A Shame
Review: I know many people will buy this book based on a longing for personal, up close portraits of France -- but this one will disappoint, because it is a story of a woman who visits France, not lives there, despite the fact she owns a house there. Why is this such a big distinction? First of all, she never really comes to appreciate the French way of life; her time in France strikes one as swimming on the surface rather than complete immersion, something that is evident in her lack of understanding of "time" in France. Second, she never really gives herself over to the experience, which is demonstrated by her neighbors using the formal pronoun "vous" with her for so many years. Her writing, which constantly projects a sense of standoffishness and loneliness, makes it apparent why she was not so easily welcomed into her neighbors' family life. Maybe, if she had lived a happier personal life of her own, she would have been able to really indulge in the amazing, colorful, welcoming, and diverse place that France is. I speak from personal knowledge, having lived in Provence. If you want to get a glimpse of that France, buy A Year in Provence -- but not this book.
Rating:
Summary: Enjoyable, Warmly Human, Ultimately Bittersweet and Moving
Review: I was very moved by this memoir and would recommend it to anyone (it feels far more immediate and emotionally rewarding, for instance, than Frances Mayes' "Under the Tuscan Sun"). Unlike some that explore the same territory here (culture shock, setting up housekeeping in a foreign land, quirks of the locals, history of the region and its landmarks, discovery of cuisine and surroundings), there is subtle artistry in the way it's written, gentle looks into the basic human goodness of the French people in her circle, and knowing that the author died of cancer in middle-age before ever seeing this book published brings a bittersweet feel that grows as the last page nears (mentioning in passing in the final chapter, for instance, that she will skip a planned trip to a spa that year due to an event taking place in the village and that the spa will always be there next year has a strong resonance, as you immediately realize and want to call out protectively to her, Yes it will be there, but you will not]). Aside from the introduction to French life and characters, I found myself more transfixed by what I saw in Ann Barry herself -- a loner who never feels so right in the world as when she is on her own, and especially when in France as her truest self, even relishing that she has no telephone and can't be infringed upon by the outside world. Knowing that Ms. Barry will die after 12+ years of sharing her journey, I found myself not just reading the story but considering questions of self and meaning in life, and feeling a bit sad for a woman who never connected with a significant other and that the scars of childhood in a somewhat dysfunctional family were far-reaching, as is the case with so many of us. (That sounds depressing, but it's more a consistent subtext here that one attuned will see, and that, to me, enriched my interest in the work. Many people may read the book not coming away with that at all.) If you enjoy vicarious life and episodic memoir of someone who DID IT rather than THOUGHT ABOUT IT, I can think of no finer memoir that I've read of late, and I'm sure I will continue to think about the questions this raised in me about how we live our lives and what it all means and what good we can do for this world before we leave it, and for that I'm grateful to Ms. Barry for this work.
Rating:
Summary: Unprecedented Emotional Connection with an Author
Review: My cousin (also a globe-trotting single female) recommended this book to me when I undertook a solo 13-day driving trip around France. I viewed it as a bit of fluff to downshift with every night before sleeping. I intended to zip through it and hand it off to another traveler, perhaps on the return flight. I had not foreseen the grip it would have on me. I revere Peter Mayle and think he is one of our most brilliant wordsmiths. At first, by contrast, At Home seemed pedestrian, but charming enough. I realized the difference between them is that Mayle was a ad-man (flash-boom-bang!) who could make the mundane hilarious and Barry was an editor (who-what-when-where-why-how?) who was a stealth raconteuse who wrapped me in her delicate web. I found myself up reading 'til 1 and 2 every morning, and genuinely felt grief when I read that she had died. Indeed, the book seemed to have ended unfinished. Like another reviewer or two, I yearn to know more about the circumstances of her death, and the disposition of her beloved cottage. What was unprecedented for me was that as soon as I finished it, I began to re-read it, and am I ever glad I did! I'm getting nuances out of it I'd glanced over previously. Ann was a dear companion on my own travels, and my trip was the richer for it. I don't intend to part with this book. I will lend it to friends and reread it again when I, too, get to realize my dream of owning a gite in France. (Unlike Ann, I'm not financially able to just keep it in mothballs between visits - mine will be rented out.) A darling book, though I only gave it 4 stars because it's not a Great Book, but eminently readable - even on the second pass.
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