The Opening Country

I came across this book about France thinking that it would be in the genre we are all so familiar with - all about restaurants, churches, well known picturesque towns and villages. Not at all. It is a book about many of the lesser known parts of France - from Caen to Courmayer - a voyage on foot from northern France to the Italian border. The author weaves a bit of history, some reflections on everything from land use to WW2, population changes, observations of nature, the rivers of France. His route is always away from main roads and tarmac, beginning in May until he arrives at the Italian border weeks later. For any of us who love France I couldn't recommend the book more highly. The author is able to paint a vivid word picture of the places and landscapes he walks through, and you can follow his progress through the little map at the front of the book. No long discussions about food, or much about architecture, but a vivid account of an exhausting but rewarding journey towards his long planned goal, and he takes you with him all the way.

This book is an absolute treat. I read it during a lockdown here and it felt like I was wandering the hills and dales of France with the author and breathing in the freewheeling spirit of a walking adventure despite being stuck at home. It often reminded me of Patrick Leigh Fermor and his famous walk, without ever being derivative or anything other than the gentle and curious character of the author shaping the whole thing. It wears its knowledge lightly and immerses the reader in the varied and wonderful nature of France through the eyes and heart of a curious wanderer. Would highly recommend to anyone as a breath of calm and fresh air. I look forward to Micklewright's next adventure.

The Opening Country is a thoroughly enjoyable and informative travelogue that carries you along, with the convenience that you don't need your walking boots. Perhaps unexpectedly for a book of this kind, it is full of fascinating, read-aloud details. The knowledgeability and charm of the author make it a pleasure to read and by the end I was yearning to see France again, through new eyes. Looking forward to the next journey.

“It has to be interesting this time”, is what the author's wife told him about writing this. Sound advice, given that he was a professor of economics, but he seems to have set much of ‘the dismal science' aside for this book. I enjoyed this book enormously. I buy a lot of books about walking, but they can be highly variable, from deadly dull lists of hills climbed with weather reports, through to more eclectic descriptions of the journey, the experience and chance encounters. John Micklewright's book is at that end of the spectrum. He touches on many aspects of the French countryside, ranging from the natural history – he has a keen interest in butterflies, which prompts me to think I should pay more attention when out walking – to the social history of the French countryside. (His comments about village life took me back to my own student days, when I'd read Hélias's Horse of Pride about Breton village life.) His description of the current situation in French villages put a more human face on the challenges of depopulation in rural areas (which seem to be common to much of rural Europe & N America). As I rapidly approach my own retirement, with hopes to get back out walking again, Micklewright's book is an inspiration to get on with it, but also to get out without the shackles of having to walk up XXX hill or stick to YYY long-distance path. Professor Micklewright seems to have taken his wife's advice, has written an absorbing book, and one which I'd happily recommend, or give to keen walkers.

You feel as if you are in the company of an old friend as John Micklewright walks from Ouistreham to Mount Blanc. The author's astonishing breadth of knowledge, insights and observations, so gently imparted, are a constant delight. Butterflies, French history, literature and films, the countryside and so much more, including the author's relationship with his father. Oh and the very extensive bibliography is a treasure trove. A fabulous read.