Druckerman describes herself as a neurotic New Yorker expatriate who lands in Paris, marries her European-football-loving boyfriend, and, eventually, faces the challenge of raising a child without the nearby wisdom of her mother.
Even before pregnant, Druckerman had noticed that, in contrast to stereotypical American kids, French children did not pitch fits in public, sat quietly through meals, and were able to carry on civil conversations with adults. Furthermore, she had noticed that French parents seemed to maintain their identities outside of their children.
Her book chronicles her investigation (after all, she is a journalist) and her quest to uncover the secret of French parenting. She decribes her journey in an engaging, self-deprecating style that should be reassuring to prospective and new parents.
As the parent of grown children, and an adult who cringes at the public spectacle of willful, disrespectful youth, I can see the sense in the French system of parenting. It's pretty much how I was raised; it's pretty much how I raised my children. As entertaining as the book was, I find myself aghast that what seems to be good old common sense would be so uncommon. Diatribe aside, Druckerman's Bringing Up Bebe is a funny, informative read full of good old common sense.
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