Since 1986 I’ve lived six months a year near Bandol, and many of my experiences could be considered Pagnol-esque. For example, a neighbor threatening to cut off my water supply (see Pagnol’s Manon des Sources, a great movie). So, I wondered, why not write a memoir about my life in Provence? No, I decided. Not enough material to fill a book. But what about a novel? Voilà, the solution. I could make things up. Fiction. Letting my imagination loose, then a ton of work to fashion a novel from what emerged.
     Could it be that all this life of mine trying to put beauty into your glasses was wasted? What if I’m better at writing novels? There’s only one way you can find out. Yes, buy the darned thing and read it. There’s food and wine on almost every page, so it shouldn’t be a task to read it down to the last drop…