We are 10 days to Christmas and all over town the merry parties are in full swing. That Sunday brunch, I was one ravenous and thirsty guest alternating between buffet and bar, enjoying random conversations with other like-minded guests. Our plates full, the game was to make the other speak to be able to eat. I was at a disadvantage there, as I had the most exciting news: my book had just been published a few days prior.
So far, a Texan man had already offered a pearl of (sarcastic) wisdom on his favourite cartography of the world: ‘there is Texas, the rest of that thing – the US, America’s top hat, Europe, and the other stuff. That’s about it’. When told he was slightly ‘bonkers’, he replied that for him it meant he was normal, as to be ‘bonkers’ is the standard for a Texan. As soon as someone in the know congratulated me on the release of Gatekeepers, that was it, my plate remained untouched for a long time.
The mysterious Texan dude, his new nickname, was listening attentively to my description of Gatekeepers weaving adventure with food for thought on how we have to adapt to events all react differently to the extra ordinary. At the first opportunity, before someone asked another formal question on my novel, he asked quickly with a mischievous smile: ‘Do you have any French sex scenes in the book?
‘No. It is not that kind of book.’
‘Pity. I would have bought it if there was French sex in it. Actually, you should still promote the book saying there is French sex. It would boost the sale.’
‘Right… I see. Well there are some hot moments, but not kinky sex scenes,’ I insisted.
‘Well…’ intervened his friend. ‘With you being the author, it is infused with a sexual French touch anyway, so you would not lie.’
I had to laugh. They were entertaining if not helping. Clearly I still had a long road towards being seen British author and rid of my French label, or more exactly in this case, the French stereotype. I did enjoy the compliment though.
Yours,
Virginie
