Pam's Book 37: The Vintage Caper

Reading Peter Mayle's A Year in Provence at a young age affected me deeply: it ingrained in me a deep desire to visit the South of France (a desire yet unfulfilled) and a deep appreciation for Mayle's writing. I have faithfully read every book of his since then: those chronicling his time in Provence as well as his fictional capers. When he's not writing about life in France, Mayle writes about absurd and lovable thieves and good guys who get in over their head (not that his thieves aren't good guys, too). The books are witty and entertaining, and I always find myself giggling out loud when I read them. Last weekend I found myself waiting for a plane to land, a plane that was running an hour late, stuck with nothing to read. I ventured into the only open store and found The Vintage Caper, Mayle's latest, which had somehow slipped my attention.
Once I read the book, I discovered why it had slipped my attention: it wasn't really worthy of anybody's attention. Don't get me wrong; reading it was certainly better than reading nothing (not a sentiment I've wasted on some other noteworthy bores of books), but only slightly. Since my only other option was to watch the plane's progress on my phone (about as entertaining and fruitful as watching paint dry), I slogged ahead.
Sprinkled throughout are a few gems that remind me why I enjoy Peter Mayle's writing:
"And then, clearly suspecting the poor German of trying to smuggle a potentially dangerous sense of humor onto the aircraft, ordered him to step aside and wait for the supervisor."
"'Monsieur is an old client of ours, and the girl is his daughter. He is teaching her how to have dinner with a man.' Only in France, Sam thought. Only in France."
Sam is a fairly typical Mayle hero: a morally ambiguous character you have to kind of like. Except, this time, I don't like him as much as I should. He is not as three dimensional as he should be. And the girl he ends up with, the girl you know from the very beginning he's going to end up with, is not as interesting as she should be.
Maybe there's a reason Mayle doesn't write books as often as he used to.