It’s a standard genre. Expat, in this case British, lives in France long enough to write an irreverent, comic, snarky account of French mannerisms. He describes how the French eschew rules, scrum instead of queue, adore denying service to anyone and everyone, are hopeless romantics (at least with their mistresses), work fewer hours on job than any employees in the world, and insist that nothing — not war nor peace — interrupt their daily break for a two hour lunch. Unfortunately, Clarke is neither sufficiently funny or nasty enough to be completely compelling. On the other hand, my French cousins say his accounting of French behavior is spot on making it a worthwhile book for anyone who has been to France.