Something to Declare : Essays on France and French Culture

Rating:
Summary: It's not about France
Review: "Something to Declare" is a clever title for a book about travel abroad; but, beyond its opening pages, that's not what this book is about. "Essays on France" is an equally misleading subtitle, for the book's erudite essays (beyond the opening chapter) are not on France but on a narrow selection of French writers and related movers and shakers, and one fictional character: Madame Bovary. After a fast-paced, dazzling opening sequence, hilariously describing the teen-aged Barnes' first encounters across the English Channel, we slow down to pick through some highlights in the lives of some of the top French authors, poets, filmmakers and other cultural icons, eventually easing to a crawl through exhaustive detail regarding the author's main interest, Flaubert and his world. If Madame Bovary is your cup of tea, you may enjoy steeping yourself further in Barnes. For me it was just too much.

Rating:
Summary: A wonderful collection of pieces
Review: Barnes's collection falls into two halves. The first is a collection of pieces that might be said to have a French theme: a review and appreciation of Edith Wharton's account of a car journey taken through France, a piece of French songsters of the sixties, a very entertaining look at the perils of the Tour de France. The second half is nearly all given over to Flaubert, Barnes's obsession. The essays on the great writer are fascinating, especially those centered around his correspondence. Barnes's love for the writer and the man is contagious. I had no great enthusiasm for Flaubert, despite having loved Barnes's 'Flaubert's Parrot', but since reading this book I have read 'Madame Bovary' with a great deal of pleasure and have begun looking into the correspondence. All the essays are scrupulously and stylishly written and are worth reading for the prose alone.

Rating:
Summary: Not What I Expected but Brilliant
Review: Firstly, I did not gather all this book had to offer, as I do not have the knowledge that Mr. Barnes requires regarding French popular music of decades ago, including Georges Brassens, Boris Vian and Jacques Brel, and other topics that can only be fully appreciated if you have previous knowledge of them. Another example is his detailed discussion of French Cinema, again, hard to appreciate fully without prior and extensive knowledge. As a testament to his writing skill and style, these barriers did not keep me from reading every bit of this book. Unfortunately I had to read many parts as a novice, but his talent as a writer makes that effort an easy one to make.

There are many essays that will appeal to a wide audience, Edith Wharton, the Tour de France, Henry James, and his discourses on the writers George Sand, Victor Hugo, Stephane Mallarme, and Ivan Turgenev. No book such as this by Mr. Barnes would even be contemplated without a large portion being devoted to Gustave Flaubert, his friends, his actions, and the world he lived in and created. Flaubert is the basis for Mr. Barnes to explore the role of biography, the selective use of historical fact, personal papers, and the revisionist methods that can be employed when even identical source material is used to document the same individual. When Mr. Barnes makes an appearance in the book it is a picture of him standing by the final resting place of his much loved topic, the final resting place of Flaubert.

The topics I mention are not even close to an exhaustive list of the material that is covered. I have read virtually all of the books and essays that Mr. Barnes has published, and this book is decidedly unique. The book falls short of 300 pages only because the author chose to keep it dense. A slightly more verbose pen could easily have doubled the size of the book. You will likely spend more time on these 279 pages than you generally do, whether with Mr. Barnes or another author.

A very different book from a brilliant mind and very talented observer and writer, just be prepared for a very new experience from him this time around. He has not taken his readers on a trip like this before.

Rating:
Summary: Not What the Title Promises, and Often Excruciating
Review: The title of this book, as you can see, is "Something To Declare: Essays on France and French Culture." The blurbs on the back of my trade paperback version enthusiastically support this title. However, only a quarter of the pages of this book are devoted to a discussion of "France and French culture." The rest are spent on the very specific topics of particular French artists and authors, most particularly Flaubert and things related to Flaubert. Given that artists and authors often make a point of setting themselves apart from their cultural milieu (especially most if not all of the ones Barnes writes about) and are often, at a minimum, a bit out of touch with the reality of the world around them, writings on these folks can hardly be deemed to reflect "French culture," as promised by the title. Barnes is, of course, perfectly entitled to publish a book composed of these elements; however, it would be nice if the title and blurbs made it clearer that that is what he is doing, for those of us poor unenlightened souls who do not go into a swoon every time we see or hear the name Flaubert -- for those of us who, in fact, would be perfectly happy for the rest of our lives if we could avoid anything more than infrequent passing references to Flaubert. Simply put, the title does not fairly represent the major part of what is in the book. If you are looking for a book on France and French culture, you can do much, much better with your reading time and money. Moreover, the essays that are not general in nature assume an intimate, detailed knowledge of Flaubert and his writing. If you do not have such an intimate, ready-at-your-fingertips, working knowledge, you will often not know what Barnes is referring to and will consequently have no hope of understanding the point he is trying to make, even if you hang in there and read the whole thing, as I did. These essays are intended for an audience of initiates; reading them in a book like this that purports to address a much more general topic will just leave you feeling like an outsider to the club. Oh, and it will be even worse for you if you fail to hold the belief that "Madame Bovary" is worth intense worship as one of the greatest things to ever have come along, both before and after the advent of sliced bread.