Can a family of five from deep in the heart of Dixie find happiness smack dab in the middle of France? French By Heart is the story of an all-American family pulling up stakes and finding a new home in Clermont-Ferrand, a city four hours south of Paris known more for its smoke-spitting factories and car dealerships than for its location in the Auvergne, the lush heartland of France dotted with crumbling castles and sunflower fields. The Ramseys are not jet-setters; they’re a regular family with big-hearted and rambunctious kids. Quickly their lives go from covered-dish suppers to smoky dinner parties with heated polemics, from being surrounded by Southern hospitality to receiving funny looks if the children play in the yard without shoes. A charming tale with world-class characters, French By Heart reads like letters from your funniest friend. More than just a slice of life in France, it’s a heartwarming account of a family coming of age and learning what “home sweet home” really means. This account of contemporary life among the French eschews the glamour of Paris and Provence for one of France's more prosaic quarters. The Ramsey family abandons the comforts of Greer, South Carolina, to pursue a job opportunity in Clermont-Ferrand, a grimy industrial city in France's Massif Central known chiefly for the headquarters of the Michelin Tire Company. The Ramseys transport their household to France, including their small children, a cat, and even a piano. With her husband ensconced at his office, Ramsey must cope with everyday life's challenges. Struggling with an unfamiliar tongue and with quick-to-judge Auvergnats, Ramsey consistently embarrasses herself with malaprops. Even a simple visit to the local bank frustrates as she struggles with a mystifying, intimidating security system. Incorrigibly American, Ramsey appreciates the tiny neighborhood shops beloved by both natives and tourists, but she nevertheless finds herself irresistibly drawn to the local American-inspired supermarket with its one-stop efficiency. Mark Knoblauch Copyright © American Library Association. All rights reserved "I loved reading Rebecca Ramsey's account of her family's sojourn in France.  French By Heart is that winning (and rare) combination of a down-to-earth, witty voice with a sense of the mysterious and eternal.  The minute I finished the last page I started looking forward to her next book." -Josephine Humphreys, author of Nowhere Else on Earth "Engaging, witty, and touching.  This book is a delight." – Bailey White REBECCA S. RAMSEY lived with her family in a small village in central France for four years, beginning in 1999, before returning to Greer, South Carolina. 1.  La Tornade A month before we left for France, a truck pulling a steel shipping container pulled into Kensington Farm, our neighborhood, and parked in front of our house. It was moving day and Mother had come down from Raleigh to help me with the children. We pulled lawn chairs into my front yard, along with the kiddie pool and a cooler of juice boxes, and tried to keep the kids out of the way. Sitting there sweating, we watched the movers swarm into our house like termites, dismantling furniture and loading our life into the steel box. It was a little rusty. I hoped it was waterproof. “It will be an adventure,” Mother said, trying to sound confident as Sam fingered her necklace. I sighed at the bittersweetness and agreed that yes, it would. Then a loud noise came from inside and we jerked around to see a mover slip on the carpet at the top of my stairs, sending towels and boxes flying and ripping the oak banister clean off the wall. I watched it sail like a javelin right out the open door and land in my India hawthorns. That’s when I began to feel like Dorothy, pulled right out of a scene from The Wizard of Oz , the one where the twister is whirling and I am in the middle, watching everything pop up in front of me, riding the waves of the wind. There were the towels, and then the banister, and the people—Mother, Todd’s boss, Ben’s soccer coach and Sarah’s choir teacher, my sister–in–law, and the man at the bank. They were all waving and talking to me, though I could barely make out what they were saying. For six months the tornado had been brewing, starting on a December night right after we had put up the tree and let the kids hang up a few ornaments. Todd had finished the last of the bedtime stories and I had put Sam, our two–month–old, down to sleep. We collapsed on the couch, savoring the stillness of the house in the glow of the Christmas lights, listening to the calm tick–tocking of the mantel clock. The minute hand twitched forward and Todd broke the silence. “There is a job in France,” he said, and raised his eyebrow into a question mark. My heart fluttered. France? Now? We had talked about going for years. As if on cue, the heat came on, blasting through a ceiling vent and rattling the paper chain the kids had draped on the tre