I don’t know how many of you are familiar with Goodreads. Basically it’s a social networking site devoted to the joy of reading. People make lists of books they’ve read and books they want to read, review and recommend books to friends and it’s a great way to discover your next favourite book.
Finding Me in France is there and every now and then I click around to see what people have to say about it. In fact, one of my favourite reviews yet was found on Goodreads: “Some good laughs, though the overuse of the word arse gets tiresome.” Who could argue with that one? I laughed my arse off when I read it.
Then there’s this one: “Well written and an enjoyable adventure. While I really enjoyed the style, I was a little disappointed in Bobbi’s anti Canadian attitude. As a tri (sic) blue patriot, I was very disappointed in her lack of Canadian spirit. You know what, if France is so amazing, stay.”
Oh no, dear reader, I beg to differ. Anti-Canadian, my arse (see review number 1). I’m as pro-Canadian as they come. I’d even go so far to say that every single Canadian should buy a copy of my great blook of doodles, that’s how much respect I have for the homeland. Sure just the other day I posted a picture of a naked woman with a maple leaf over her crotch. Ladies and gentlemen, it doesn’t get more patriotic than that now does it?
Anti-Canadian indeed. Who the hell is against Canada? That’s like saying you’re anti-puppy or anti-dessert. Anyway, for what it’s worth, I’ve never been anti-Canada unless you count my support for an independent Newfoundland, but that’s a whole other kettle of fish.
I love my country of origin no matter how unpalatable the Prime Minister or disorganized the health care system may be. I’m always proud to tell people where I’m from, and I do it right quick lest they think I’m American. Oh now, I’m just kidding. The point is I’m not overly keen on anyone thinking I’m down on Canada just because I choose to live somewhere else.
And speaking of elsewhere, while a few (very few) fellow Canadians now own a copy of the book, I’m apparently huge with Moroccan boy bands…
This is my French neighbour Jean-Claude with members of the music group Izourane. How he gets all these people to pose with this book never ceases to amaze me. I need to start paying him.
As you can see, from Manitoba to Morocco, I’m willing to be immersed in any culture that comes my way—French, Moroccan, Swiss, whatever. OK, maybe I am ‘anti’ a lot of things: war, sexism, racism, death penalties, political oppression, skinny jeans, but all that proves is I’m as Canadian as any toque wearing, hockey playing, maple syrup swigging Canuck. Plus, I barbecue in the snow and say please, thank-you and I’m sorry a million times a day, definitive proof of my nationality.
So to that confused reviewer: Thank you so very much for reading and I’m sorry to have to say this, but I think I will stay, if that’s okay with you, eh?