In a nutshell, this book is written to match what foreigners like to read about France. It is like a modern movie set in the 1950s (Jean de Florette for example), or a Cézanne, Picasso or Van Gogh painting of Provence. It lulls you into this nice, cosy atmosphere that makes you escape the stress of modern life for a moment, just as a holiday in a Mediterranean country does, with its beaches, sun, drinks in the pool and so on. There is nothing wrong with that, so long as one does not confuse it with how life actually is in Provence in 2010. This book was not written as a guide to living in France, so foreigners thinking of settling in France, particularly Provence, would be ill advised to use anything in this book as advice. There is no trace of the nightmarish French bureaucracy, the endless taxes, or the business unfriendly environment in France in this book. That would not match this idyllic, idealistic atmosphere that sells books, so any trace of that has been avoided. Locals who cheat is briefly mentioned, to be fair. That can be a major problem for a foreigner in Provence. The book has a few funny moments. As long as you do not take the book for more than it is, it is a pleasant experience; a calming book for a good night's sleep. One thing annoyed me, though: Peter Mayle managed to spell the Luberon wrong as Lubéron throughout the book and its sequel, Toujours Provence. That is not a detail in French spelling. If there is one French word he should have got right, it is the Luberon. It is as if a Frenchman moved to Newcastle and wrote a book about it, spelling it Newscastle throughout two books. But never mind, only the Provençaux and a few sticklers will notice.