AU REVOIR, TRISTESSE

A Francophile learns about life from French novels.

Growing up in rural England, comedian, journalist, and podcast host Groskop wanted desperately to escape the conformity and dullness that surrounded her. Being French, she decided at a young age, “represented something so exciting for me: dynamism, energy, heat.” She studied French in school, went to France on school exchanges, and had French-speaking pen pals. As she boasts repeatedly in this breezy, enthusiastic riff on 12 canonical (white, mostly male) writers, she learned to speak and read the language fluently, and she diligently immersed herself in Frenchness, “snorting up every little croissant crumb of culture and language I could find.” Acquiring Frenchness brought her joy, she writes, and reading French literature has been “meaningful and life-changing.” However, her attempt to show “the intersection between Frenchness and happiness” by glossing over works by Proust, Hugo, Camus, Flaubert, Balzac and others is unconvincing. From Françoise Sagan she learns that the French version of happiness is “being young—or stubbornly young at heart” and “living in the moment.” From Colette’s Gigi, “a slightly messier Cinderella story,” she learns that “we can’t all be born with agency and choices” but still can end up content. From Victor Hugo, she discovers that “personal happiness is intimately linked to having a clear conscience.” Cyrano de Bergerac “is about body positivity”; like Gigi, Cyrano’s “overall philosophy is this: make the most of what you’ve got and play to your strengths.” From Guy de Maupassant, who, though a literary star, suffered from syphilis and tried twice to commit suicide, Groskop learned “that life is actually played out in a haze of different shades of gray.” Stendhal teaches her “about the tempestuous nature of desire.” There seems nothing particularly French about these life lessons, and, in the end, the author admits that her Francophilia came from needing “a pretend foreign identity in order to feel happy”—a need she has happily outgrown.

An exuberant yet superficial celebration of French classics.