Our pupils had not had much exposure to wine, and kept making uninformed statements like "Oh, wine, I don't like it." When Mary Ward said "I never drink red wine; I like only dry white," Paul took it as a personal insult. "That's like saying, 'I never talk to French people; I only talk to Italians,'" he said. Then he offered her a glass of red wine he considered quite good, a Chateau Chauvin '29, a flowery, well-rounded Bordeaux. Mary took one sip and said, "Hey, I never realized wine could taste like that!"
Chapter 3, Part 5: L'Ecole, My Life in France.
Paul's a funny thing, isn't he? But sweet and accepting and compassionate, as you no doubt will know if you are reading along with me, as I so encourage you to do. As a matter of fact, you would know that if you'd seen Julie and Julia, the movie by Nora Ephron. (That is something I am definitely going to do when I finished reading.)
This passage is interesting and truthful. Like so many people about so many things, there just isnt enough openness. There is nothing I adore more than meeting someone who has seen or read the same thing as me and will discuss it, and tell me what they liked and didn't like. What I seriously cannot stand is when we've read of seen the same thing but the second party will not take my opinion, but argues their own until I could just hit them with the book itself. I suppose, though, that I can be like that myself, saying "I don't read modern fiction; just classics." I guess then that I am also guilty of "only talk(ing) to Italians". When, oh, when will someone come and show me that modern fiction isn't that dodge after all? (I don't think anyone will.)