For the Francophiles in the crowd, Stephen Clarke’s novel, A Year in the Merde, may read like the anti-Peter Mayle as it follows a young English marketing executive on assignment in Paris to launch a chain of high-end English tea shops. The “merde� in the title refers to the “doggie droppings� that litter the streets of Paris (and I can attest to other parts of France as well).
Throughout the story, issues arise from language barriers in conversation, but also in “branding.� The fictional French company’s name began with the letters “V� and “D,� so their new logo was a big red VD. O.K. in French, but not so great for anyone of the English persuasion. Then there was the struggle to name the tea shops. The French team members want to name it “My Tea is Rich,� which is apparently very funny to the French. The Englishman heading up the project didn’t get it and spent most of the book trying to change it.
Plenty of misunderstandings arise on both personal and professional fronts, some of which are pretty amusing. Many are language related, but most stem from major differences in cultural values, which become apparent in everything from team meetings to dealing with bureaucratic red tape and ordering in a restaurant. Now I’m fortunate to spend a bit of time in the South of France and have personally witnessed many instances where Anglo capitalistic tendencies run counter to the more “laissez-faireâ€? French attitude.Â
In fact, just last month I was enjoying a fabulous lunch on the roof of a hotel overlooking the beaches of Nice. An American businessman came in and was very annoyed that all the best tables were reserved for others, and that the only available seat was next to a broken window panel that couldn’t be opened to enjoy the breeze/view. He of course started complaining loudly and berating the waiters (who I’d learned earlier only spoke English when they wanted to, and now was not one of those times). They were completely nonplussed by his ranting. In their view, they couldn’t control the fact that the window was broken or that the tables were reserved, and they clearly couldn’t see why he was upset over something beyond his (and their) control.Â
Unfortunately, they didn’t understand the “control freakâ€? American mentality. For better or worse, we generally think we can control our destiny. Now, I’m no French scholar, or cultural expert for that matter, but it seems to me that part of the French “laissez faire” attitude may be the result of having two World Wars fought on their doorstep. As 9/11 showed us, the human capacity to unleash such atrocities on unsuspecting innocents is humbling and can teach generations of people that there are some things simply beyond one’s control.
I mention this because the bombing of Paris and life under occupation are brilliantly depicted in another novel I read this summer, Suite Francaise by Irene Nemirovsky. Is this why the French are more accepting of things they can’t control? I don’t know, but it may have more to do with their lower blood pressure than red wine … or was that cholesterol? Either way, they’re doing something right.Â
Personally, my own Anglo/French culture conflict arose on my trip to France last summer while trying to connect my parents’ new high speed internet service. It just wasn’t working. I went through all the steps over and over and translated and retranslated the manual, until I didn’t know whether to laugh or cry at the sentence I found under “troubleshooting.�
“Attendez quelques heures, essai encore et peut-être cela fonctionnera.�
Translated to English: “Wait a few hours, try again and maybe it will work.�
Say what????!!! I tried another translating service. Yep, same thing. I couldn’t believe that a company would actually put that in writing. My first instinct was to throw the manual off the balcony and into the Mediterranean. However, I decided when in France, do as the French. So, I poured myself a glass of rose champagne, had some smelly cheese and olives and waited. And, yes, a few hours later, I tried it again, and it worked.
The Bottom Line: This is a light fun read, and probably does not require the amount of deep thought I put into it. However, I thought it provided two very good lesson for Entrepreneurs. First, every country, city and neighborhood has its own culture. Prior to launching a business, you might want to understand the local culture of your marketplace before pushing your ideas on them. Second, in the era of globalization you might want to translate your branding ideas into a few different languages to make sure not to offend.
Bonus reads:Â Here are a few of my other favorite novels (from the classy to the trashy) about non-French natives adapting la vie en France:
Marie Antoinette by Antonia Fraser
A Year in Provence by Peter Mayle
Paris Hangover and French Trysts by Kirsten Lobe
2 Responses to “A Year in the Merde”
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September 17th, 2007 at 3:34 am
How you dare ?
At least, talk about the book itself rather than wild imaginings about frenchs!
Read once you text and consider the tasteless parallel between so-called ‘Laissez aller’ and 2 world wars.
Disgusting.
Nevertheless, I read the book 2 years ago. It was funny and instructive from a french point of view.
September 17th, 2007 at 8:03 pm
Looks like I proved my own point … don’t venture into other cultures without expertise. Although that’s why I put all those qualifiers in there. And clearly at least one reader didn’t agree with my hypothesis. Fair enough. The input is appreciated!
As for giving a dry, straightforward book review, then readers should probably look elsewhere. In my mind, a good, or great read is something that provokes thoughts of any kind. Sometimes I actually dismiss books, and then find myself referring to them a week later and have to go back and add them to my good-to-great book. So, my reviews tend to be more like book group discussions, going off on related tangents and allowing others to join in on the conversation. That’s one of the reasons I always include a link to Amazon, so readers can find more info there.
And, hey, what’s a blog without a little bit of disagreement?
Diane