Stephen Clarke: A Year in the Merde and Merde Actually

What is it about the French? The Anglophone world seems to have two tiers of The Other: if we want to make extreme social comparisons, we invoke the Japanese; if we just want to vive la petite difference we — or rather, the British writers we read — hop across the English Channel and make fun of the Frogs.

They're so close, and yet a little bit far. Not different enough to be scary or challenge our thinking, just different enough to be amusing. Rather than marmite on toast, the French put Nutella on their (funny-shaped) bread, instead of forgoing wheat flour altogether in favour of rice and soy products. "Normal" is turned into "normale" instead of the transliterated "honkakuteki".

Stephen Clarke successfully milks this fascination with minute dissimilarities in A Year in the Merde, about a young Englishman, Paul West, who is helping set up a chain of English tearooms in France. He humorously comes up against French bureaucracy, French femmes fatale, French political corruption, French hypochondria and French pronunciation of his name (fancy!).

Originally, only 200 copies of the book were printed but word got around and (all you writers of decent travel emails out there prepare to be jealous): it became a surprise hit.

The Times described it as "edgier than Bryson" which presumably means Bill Bryson never talks about condoms dropping off his penis after accidental Parisian one-night stands, whereas West does. Such is the advantage of loosely autobiographical fiction as opposed to travelogue fact.

A Year is quite enjoyable, if you're in the mood for an occasionally funny, fast read about cultural stereotypes, some of which ring true. There are some good lines — a dazzling white shirt is described as looking like it was made from "silkworms fed on bleach".

But the trouble is, as the global village becomes smaller, the French appear less exotic. Merde Actually is the sequel to A Year, and West is reduced to complaining about such hardships as his girlfriend's mother, drinking strawberry juice and the French pronunciation of his name (again).

A chapter on inverse snobbery is perceptive (the bourgeois strive for rustic charm on their summer holiday, no matter how uncomfortable), but West's not the most dashing of heroes — cliche is a French word, but in this case, it also applies to the whinging Englishman.

And at 411 pages, Merde Actually's blow-by-blow account of West's life is just too much Merde.

* Janet McAllister is a canvas feature writer.
* Random House, $26.95 and $27.95