Whenever the narrator comes to a quote from some French winemaker or aficionado, and there are quite a few in this book, he reads it in a fake French accent that sounds like something from Inspector Clouseau or perhaps a Monty Python sketch. He takes a similar tack with quotes from Italians, where he sounds like Joe Dolce doing his Shaddap you face...
Without the grating fake accents this book would have easily made a 4 star listening experience in my view.
No. I mean, he's fine when he's not putting on accents, but the Inspector Clouseau routine is really quite awful.
The writing is great. I should have read it in print.
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