I've done a fair amount of reading since Christmas, all non-fiction so far. First, I read two gift books that indulged my francophilia: <em>Sixty Million Frenchmen Can't Be Wrong</em> and <em>The Story of French</em>, both by Jean-Beno&icirc;t Nadeau and Julie Barlow, a Canadian husband and wife writing team. Both books were interesting, informative and pleasant to read, particularly <em>Sixty Million Frenchmen</em>, which attempts to explain French culture and attitudes to North Americans (of the Anglo variety). I found my affinity for les fran&ccedil;ais growing as I read about their governmental system of proportional representation, their two-round presidential elections, their ideas about the responsibilities of the state and their tradition of ritualized labor protest (which I was fortunate to witness firsthand). The linguistics geek in me was a bit disappointed that <em>The Story of French</em> wasn't more academic, but I enjoyed it nonetheless.*

Apr&egrave;s la f&ecirc;te fran&ccedil;aise, I moved on to another Christmas gift book, <em>Going With the Grain</em> by Susan Seligson, a series  of essays about bread. Seligson's experience of bread spans the globe, or most of it, from an Oregon forest to the streets of Calcutta. As a travelogue, the book is excellent&mdash;descriptive, funny and well-paced. Seligson's approach left me wanting more reflection on the cultures in which the breads existed, or more aptly, the cultures from which they grew: What was it about these people that led them to produce this particular type of bread? And how did the relationship with bread embody other cultural attitudes and predilections?  For example, in writing about bread in France,  Seligson mentions the introduction of quality standards in the face of the rise of mass-produced bread, but she doesn't relate these standards to similar regulations that apply to other kinds of food&mdash;wine in particular&mdash;and she doesn't connect these regulatory impulses to French attitudes toward food (and quality) in general. I suppose I found her approach too journalistic; I craved some cultural analysis to accompany the reporting.

I've now begun reading Jane Gallop's <em>Living With His Camera</em>&mdash;yes, I read "literary criticism" for fun. I really enjoy reading Gallop, much more than the typical psychoanalytic theorist (Lacan? no thanks!). The beautiful thing about Gallop's criticism, particularly in this book, is the way she includes her self, her life, as a subject of her theorizing. <em>Living With His Camera</em> comprises readings of Barthes' <em>Camera Lucida</em>, Sontag's <em>On Photography</em> and Kathryn Harrison's novel <em>Exposure</em> in the context of her life with her photographer partner Dick Blau. So far, I've found the book fascinating and fun. She's made me want to read <em>Camera Lucida</em> again. I've never read <em>On Photography</em>, but I really liked <em>Exposure</em>, and I look forward to seeing what Gallop makes of it. <p class="note">*How appropriate that three loud Frenchmen just walked into the coffee shop where I'm typing. I've seen at least one of these men here before; he must be a regular. Another of them bears a striking resemblance to Louis Malle.</p>