Webster bought this book for
me a few years back when we last went to Paris.
Since I didn't read it then, I thought last week's trip to Paris (part
work part play) would be a good time.
The memoir is by Adam
Gopnik, an occasional writer for The New Yorker, and chronicles his family's
move to Paris when his son was a toddler.
He and his wife and son live there for a few years and this book is a
collection of essays he wrote during that time.
I enjoyed reading this book
but it wasn't what I expected. I thought
it would be a lightweight memoir about his time there. While there was some of that (anecdotes about
finding an apartment, taking his son to the park), the book was much more a set
of reflections on society and what it means to be Parisian - including
politics, labor relations, medicine, and the pure quintessence of living in
Paris.
I’d recommend the book; just
don’t expect a lighthearted memoir.
No comments:
Post a Comment