My name is Catherine, I am a 17-year-old student from Paris. Earlier this month, I spent a week in Rye as part of a college journalism assignment, with the aim of discovering the town both as a visitor and through the voices of the people who live and work here.
Now, my written English was not fluent enough to write this article unaided, and so I used an AI tool to help with grammar and spelling, although the main section headed Voices of Rye is mine. This practice of using AI is perhaps controversial, but in my case it made it possible for me to write a more fluent article. I want to be transparent about this because I believe honesty is at the heart of good journalism. We’ll return to this point at the close of this article, and I’d welcome your comments.
A shared history with France
I began my exploration by visiting the Heritage Centre. Before speaking to residents, I felt it was important to understand the historical background of the town. Knowing its past seemed essential to better understand its present.
What I had not expected to find was how deeply France is woven into Rye’s story. Rye has been shaped by a relationship with France that stretches back a thousand years, through raids and refuge, war and welcome.
In 1014, King Ethelred the Unready fled to the Abbey of Fécamp in Normandy. In gratitude for his sanctuary, he gave Rye to the Abbey. Construction of the magnificent church of St Mary’s, sometimes called the Cathedral of East Sussex, was begun during this period of French stewardship.
For over two centuries, Rye was effectively French property, remaining in Norman hands until Henry III reclaimed it for the Crown in 1247. Although Rye was not originally one of the five Cinque Ports, it became a “Limb,” an associated port, in the 13th century. At that time, Rye was surrounded by water and played an important maritime role. The town supplied ships and sailors to the King and, in return, received privileges.
In 1339, during the Hundred Years’ War, French raiders crossed the Channel and sacked the town. A larger French force devastated the town once again in 1377, burning most of Rye to the ground and carrying off the bells of St Mary’s Church. The people of Rye launched their own expedition into Normandy and brought the bells back. One was hung in Watchbell Street to warn of any future attack.
Our shared history also runs through times of peace. From 1562, French Huguenot refugees fleeing religious persecution found sanctuary here. After the St Bartholomew’s Day Massacre of 1572, over six hundred refugees arrived in Rye. By the late sixteenth century, more than fifteen hundred Huguenots lived in a town of just three and a half thousand people. They brought their skills, their faith, and their families, and they left a lasting mark: the famous Quarter Boys clock on St Mary’s Church, still striking the hours today, was made in 1562 by the Huguenot clockmaker Lewys Billiard.
The French have been part of Rye’s story both in times of war and peace: as founders, as adversaries, as neighbours who sought a home here. With this historical context in mind, I explored the town further, speaking to residents and learning their stories.
The voices of Rye
Several people I spoke to had moved here from a larger city, so I thought it might be useful to ask them to compare and contrast life in Rye to life in a big city, such as Paris, my home.
“Quiet” — J&M Vintage Store
My first stop was J&M Vintage Store. The resident I spoke to here described Rye as rather old-fashioned, with a strong traditional atmosphere. He moved here due to personal circumstances and has since grown very attached to the town. In his opinion, Rye is not really a place for young people, as many residents belong to an older generation. When thinking about Paris, my city, he immediately imagines the Louvre, the Eiffel Tower, and its museums. He cannot see himself living in a big city anymore, having become used to the quiet life here.
“Magical” — Hunter Jones
Next, I visited the Hunter Jones store, where a friendly woman shared her perspective. She sees Rye as a tourist town that blends local traditions with visitors from larger cities. She appreciates its character, history, and the kindness of its people. However, she feels it is not especially suited to young people, particularly in winter, when it can feel sleepy, even if there are still places to eat and go out. When she thinks of Paris, she associates it with fashion, luxury, the Eiffel Tower, high prices, and macarons. Having grown up in London, she believes she could always return to life in a big city. Yet, Rye is “magical” to her.
“Touristy” — The Rye Bookshop
In The Rye Bookshop, I spoke with a middle-aged man who described Rye as beautiful and full of history, but also very touristy, with many things to see and do. He chose to live here to follow his wife who grew up here. As with the previous interviewee, he has also lived in London, and he could imagine living in a big city again.
“Beautiful” — Clive Sawyer Gallery
I continued my interviews at the Clive Sawyer Gallery where I met a photographer who has lived in Rye for the past twenty years. He described the town and its surroundings as a fascinating medieval place, rich in history and filled with independent shops. He moved here after finding a beautiful house and stayed because of the environment, the people, and the quality of life. According to him, the main issue for young people is the lack of nightlife. However, the train connection to London is an advantage. When he thinks of Paris, he thinks of photography. He has taken pictures there and finds the city magnificent, but believes living in a major city like Paris or London would require significant financial means, ideally having both a city apartment and a countryside home. For this photographer, Rye is “beautiful”.
“Wonderful” — The Paper Place
The proprietor of The Paper Place describes Rye as unique, rare, and very special. A beautiful small town with a strong identity. She chose to live here because of its diverse and interesting people and what she calls a lovely community. Its proximity to London allows residents to enjoy the advantages of a big city while living somewhere quieter. Between work and walks through town, she enjoys discovering new details in a place with so much history. Although there are a few bars, she feels Rye could offer more for young people and be slightly livelier. When speaking about Paris, she describes it as a lovely city with kind people. As for living in a major city now, she says that while she might have chosen that in the past, after experiencing life in Rye, she would not do so today. For her, Rye is “wonderful”.
Behind the postcard
I was also able to speak at length with Susan Benn, who kindly hosted me during my stay. She shared fascinating historical details about Rye but also spoke about current challenges. Despite its attractive image, there are issues of poverty. Housing is expensive, making it difficult for local workers’ families to live here. Curious to know more, I looked at Rye News and found information about a new project aimed at providing more affordable housing. This is particularly interesting to me in the context of this article, because the initiative emerged from community concerns and local consensus.
Each person I interviewed spoke about Rye with warmth, but several also touched on the same tension: a town that draws people in with its beauty can also price out those who keep it running. It is a challenge that many attractive small towns face, and it suggests that Rye’s future will require the same spirit of community that has sustained it through centuries of change.
On AI, honesty and finding your voice
As I mentioned at the start of this article, I enlisted AI to help write up my interview notes and thoughts during my time here. But AI did not conduct my interviews. It did not walk through Rye’s cobbled streets or feel the wind off the marshes. It did not choose which questions to ask or decide what mattered in the answers. The structure of this article is mine; as is each observation, each impression. The AI simply helped me express my thoughts more clearly in a language that is not my own.
This raises a question worth considering for local journalism. If AI tools can help people who might otherwise struggle to be heard – non-native speakers, those less confident with the written word – then perhaps these tools have a genuinely democratic value. The danger comes when AI replaces the reporter rather than assists them: when it generates stories without anyone walking through the door of a vintage shop or sitting down with a photographer over coffee.
The French have a saying: c’est le ton qui fait la musique: it is the tone that makes the music. AI can help tune the instrument, but the melody must be your own.
Acknowledgements:
Thanks to Phil Gooch from Rye News for assistance with the sections on A shared history with France, and On AI, honesty and finding your voice.