The Marseille Caper --- by --- Peter Mayle.
It isn’t too often that I express strong negative feelings about a book(I hate to pan what anyone's written) but I’m afraid this is one of those times. As far as I’m concerned this little (and thank goodness that its little) book is a waste of paper and library shelf space. Talk about boring. And talk about conspicuous consumption (or description) of garlic, dresses, yachts, and yada, yada, yada. I broke my own fifty page rule (you know, if the book doesn’t grab you in fifty pages, toss it), I went to page 84 --- but then I was caught in the doc tor’s waiting room and what else is there to do? Read a book or read 1947 copies of National Geographic?) Don’t waste your time on this one. Incidentally, author Mayle is resident in Provence: that explains it: too much sun.

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