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Paris in Love
Goodreads Choice Award
Nominee for Readers' Favorite Memoir & Autobiography (2012)In 2009, New York Times bestselling author Eloisa James took a leap that many people dream about: she sold her house, took a sabbatical from her job as a Shakespeare professor, and moved her family to Paris. Paris in Love: A Memoir chronicles her joyful year in one of the most beautiful cities in the world.
With no classes to teach, no committee meetings to attend, no lawn to mow or cars to park, Eloisa revels in the ordinary pleasures of life—discovering corner museums that tourists overlook, chronicling Frenchwomen’s sartorial triumphs, walking from one end of Paris to another. She copes with her Italian husband’s notions of quality time; her two hilarious children, ages eleven and fifteen, as they navigate schools—not to mention puberty—in a foreign language; and her mother-in-law Marina’s raised eyebrow in the kitchen (even as Marina overfeeds Milo, the family dog).
Paris in Love invites the reader into the life of a most enchanting family, framed by la ville de l’amour.
With no classes to teach, no committee meetings to attend, no lawn to mow or cars to park, Eloisa revels in the ordinary pleasures of life—discovering corner museums that tourists overlook, chronicling Frenchwomen’s sartorial triumphs, walking from one end of Paris to another. She copes with her Italian husband’s notions of quality time; her two hilarious children, ages eleven and fifteen, as they navigate schools—not to mention puberty—in a foreign language; and her mother-in-law Marina’s raised eyebrow in the kitchen (even as Marina overfeeds Milo, the family dog).
Paris in Love invites the reader into the life of a most enchanting family, framed by la ville de l’amour.
272 pages, Hardcover
First published April 3, 2012
777 people are currently reading
18638 people want to read
About the author
Eloisa James
123 books9,539 followersNew York Times bestselling author Eloisa James writes historical romances for HarperCollins Publishers. Her novels have been published to great acclaim. A reviewer from USA Today wrote of Eloisa's very first book that she "found herself devouring the book like a dieter with a Hershey bar"; later People Magazine raved that "romance writing does not get much better than this." Her novels have repeatedly received starred reviews from Publishers' Weekly and Library Journal and regularly appear on the best-seller lists.
After graduating from Harvard University, Eloisa got an M.Phil. from Oxford University, a Ph.D. from Yale and eventually became a Shakespeare professor, publishing an academic book with Oxford University Press. Currently she is an associate professor and head of the Creative Writing program at Fordham University in New York City. Her "double life" is a source of fascination to the media and her readers. In her professorial guise, she's written a New York Times op-ed defending romance, as well as articles published everywhere from women's magazines such as More to writers' journals such as the Romance Writers' Report.
Eloisa...on her double life:
When I'm not writing novels, I'm a Shakespeare professor. It's rather like having two lives. The other day I bought a delicious pink suit to tape a television segment on romance; I'll never wear that suit to teach in, nor even to give a paper at the Shakespeare Association of America conference. It's like being Superman, with power suits for both lives. Yet the literature professor in me certainly plays into my romances. The Taming of the Duke (April 2006) has obvious Shakespearean resonances, as do many of my novels. I often weave early modern poetry into my work; the same novel might contain bits of Catullus, Shakespeare and anonymous bawdy ballads from the 16th century.
When I rip off my power suit, whether it's academic or romantic, underneath is the rather tired, chocolate-stained sweatshirt of a mom. Just as I use Shakespeare in my romances, I almost always employ my experiences as a mother. When I wrote about a miscarriage in Midnight Pleasures, I used my own fears of premature birth; when the little girl in Fool For Love threw up and threw up, I described my own daughter, who had that unsavory habit for well over her first year of life.
So I'm a writer, a professor, a mother - and a wife. My husband Alessandro is Italian, born in Florence. We spend the lazy summer months with his mother and sister in Italy. It always strikes me as a huge irony that as a romance writer I find myself married to a knight, a cavaliere, as you say in Italian.
One more thing...I'm a friend. I have girlfriends who are writers and girlfriends who are Shakespeare professors. And I have girlfriends who are romance readers. In fact, we have something of a community going on my website. Please stop by and join the conversation on my readers' pages.
After graduating from Harvard University, Eloisa got an M.Phil. from Oxford University, a Ph.D. from Yale and eventually became a Shakespeare professor, publishing an academic book with Oxford University Press. Currently she is an associate professor and head of the Creative Writing program at Fordham University in New York City. Her "double life" is a source of fascination to the media and her readers. In her professorial guise, she's written a New York Times op-ed defending romance, as well as articles published everywhere from women's magazines such as More to writers' journals such as the Romance Writers' Report.
Eloisa...on her double life:
When I'm not writing novels, I'm a Shakespeare professor. It's rather like having two lives. The other day I bought a delicious pink suit to tape a television segment on romance; I'll never wear that suit to teach in, nor even to give a paper at the Shakespeare Association of America conference. It's like being Superman, with power suits for both lives. Yet the literature professor in me certainly plays into my romances. The Taming of the Duke (April 2006) has obvious Shakespearean resonances, as do many of my novels. I often weave early modern poetry into my work; the same novel might contain bits of Catullus, Shakespeare and anonymous bawdy ballads from the 16th century.
When I rip off my power suit, whether it's academic or romantic, underneath is the rather tired, chocolate-stained sweatshirt of a mom. Just as I use Shakespeare in my romances, I almost always employ my experiences as a mother. When I wrote about a miscarriage in Midnight Pleasures, I used my own fears of premature birth; when the little girl in Fool For Love threw up and threw up, I described my own daughter, who had that unsavory habit for well over her first year of life.
So I'm a writer, a professor, a mother - and a wife. My husband Alessandro is Italian, born in Florence. We spend the lazy summer months with his mother and sister in Italy. It always strikes me as a huge irony that as a romance writer I find myself married to a knight, a cavaliere, as you say in Italian.
One more thing...I'm a friend. I have girlfriends who are writers and girlfriends who are Shakespeare professors. And I have girlfriends who are romance readers. In fact, we have something of a community going on my website. Please stop by and join the conversation on my readers' pages.
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Displaying 1 - 30 of 1,683 reviews
December 1, 2012
Nicely written, but kind of shallow. I'm not making a personal comment here (I ain't no troll!) I mean the writing is shallow. See, infinitely better.
The structure of the book is interesting, and I mean that in the most ambiguous way possible. Paris in Love began as a series of Facebook and twitter posts, and that is exactly how it reads. Each story is an abbreviated detail or an abbreviated moment. I wouldn't call them short stories, or essays, or vignettes; they're anecdotes. Here's something you could use to dismiss all my thoughts about the book: I tried very hard not to be the pretentious gasbag I am and to let my opinion of the book unfold of its own accord and not let its origins distract me, but sometimes you just can't help who you are. The origins of Paris can't help but come into play because I think writing for Facebook/twitter and writing for a book are different because the audiences are very different. With our Facebook and twitter accounts, we try to impress and appease our friends so we pull out the flashy stories with that one indelible image or that one shining moment. Books are different because they reward deeper thought, which the Internet does not always embrace. I understand what James was going for with the structure, and I think to some extent it works. It is not just a slice of life portrayal, but a preponderance of evidence. She piles on the lovely images and lol-worthy child-rearing moments of embarrassment and triumph, but for all the loveliness, one giant hole in the story exists, James herself.
James appears unwilling to get too personal. Yes she tells us about what happens in her life, but we have no idea about James' thoughts or feelings about it all. She very quickly deals with my prurient interest in her cancer diagnosis and how it affects her, but by keeping it light and cancer-free, she risks appearing shallow. That makes me sound like an asshole, which I usually don't have a huge problem with, but what I mean is that by keeping things so light it risks appearing like a feint, like a smokescreen. If her cancer is the reason for the sabbatical in Paris then why doesn't she explore it more. And it's not just her thoughts on cancer that I am interested in. How does she feel about how her family adjusts to life in Paris? She tells funny stories and occasionally wrings her hands in a very comely manner, but she just skirts the issue. Again, she appears unwilling to share her honest feelings with us. Her children clearly have a hard time adjusting and every time she moves from the, at-times palpable, teenage and pre-adolescent despair of her children to discuss chocolate and haute couture, I have a very hard time not characterizing her as callous. This is a shame, but I think she made a clear choice not to go too deep and it backfired.
James's Paris is a beautiful place. It is just sadly, an extremely romantic and fantasy picture. It feels like someone's idea of a city rather than an actual city. It just doesn't feel lived-in. Her Paris is the same as the Paris of someone who watched a movie. It's just very romantic and stereotypical. I could maybe write a less romantic version of the city just based on my obsessive summer watching of the Tour de France. Again, it's just a little shallow. God I'm such an asshole. I am so harsh on people. It's a serious affliction. I just edited the college essays for the daughter of a friend of a friend and I think she strongly implied that I made her cry. I don't mean to be mean.
James has great natural style. The language is beautiful with an enviable natural flow and pace. The tone of her pieces are, again, rather calculated because of all the reasons I sloppily laid out above. All my issues with Paris boil down to the origins of the book. The posts should have inspired rather than dictated content.
The structure of the book is interesting, and I mean that in the most ambiguous way possible. Paris in Love began as a series of Facebook and twitter posts, and that is exactly how it reads. Each story is an abbreviated detail or an abbreviated moment. I wouldn't call them short stories, or essays, or vignettes; they're anecdotes. Here's something you could use to dismiss all my thoughts about the book: I tried very hard not to be the pretentious gasbag I am and to let my opinion of the book unfold of its own accord and not let its origins distract me, but sometimes you just can't help who you are. The origins of Paris can't help but come into play because I think writing for Facebook/twitter and writing for a book are different because the audiences are very different. With our Facebook and twitter accounts, we try to impress and appease our friends so we pull out the flashy stories with that one indelible image or that one shining moment. Books are different because they reward deeper thought, which the Internet does not always embrace. I understand what James was going for with the structure, and I think to some extent it works. It is not just a slice of life portrayal, but a preponderance of evidence. She piles on the lovely images and lol-worthy child-rearing moments of embarrassment and triumph, but for all the loveliness, one giant hole in the story exists, James herself.
James appears unwilling to get too personal. Yes she tells us about what happens in her life, but we have no idea about James' thoughts or feelings about it all. She very quickly deals with my prurient interest in her cancer diagnosis and how it affects her, but by keeping it light and cancer-free, she risks appearing shallow. That makes me sound like an asshole, which I usually don't have a huge problem with, but what I mean is that by keeping things so light it risks appearing like a feint, like a smokescreen. If her cancer is the reason for the sabbatical in Paris then why doesn't she explore it more. And it's not just her thoughts on cancer that I am interested in. How does she feel about how her family adjusts to life in Paris? She tells funny stories and occasionally wrings her hands in a very comely manner, but she just skirts the issue. Again, she appears unwilling to share her honest feelings with us. Her children clearly have a hard time adjusting and every time she moves from the, at-times palpable, teenage and pre-adolescent despair of her children to discuss chocolate and haute couture, I have a very hard time not characterizing her as callous. This is a shame, but I think she made a clear choice not to go too deep and it backfired.
James's Paris is a beautiful place. It is just sadly, an extremely romantic and fantasy picture. It feels like someone's idea of a city rather than an actual city. It just doesn't feel lived-in. Her Paris is the same as the Paris of someone who watched a movie. It's just very romantic and stereotypical. I could maybe write a less romantic version of the city just based on my obsessive summer watching of the Tour de France. Again, it's just a little shallow. God I'm such an asshole. I am so harsh on people. It's a serious affliction. I just edited the college essays for the daughter of a friend of a friend and I think she strongly implied that I made her cry. I don't mean to be mean.
James has great natural style. The language is beautiful with an enviable natural flow and pace. The tone of her pieces are, again, rather calculated because of all the reasons I sloppily laid out above. All my issues with Paris boil down to the origins of the book. The posts should have inspired rather than dictated content.
July 17, 2012
Even though I chose this book, I knew going into it I wouldn't like it. It's written by a romance writer (I don't read romance), takes place after the writer has had cancer (another one of those books), is another smug memoir about an exotic year in Paris, and is compiled from Facebook and Twitter posts, punctuated with slightly longer essays at the beginning of each chapter.
So you can imagine my surprise when 1) I didn't want to book to end and 2) I decided I'd like Eloisa James to be my new best friend. Seriously. I was so bummed when the family prepared to return back home because all I could think was "I'm not done being in Paris with you!"
Even with my negative mindset, I enjoyed this book as I haven't enjoyed a book in a while. It was the perfect summer read. Because of the structure of short bits, it was easy to dip in and out of. James has a wonderful voice and she doesn't shy away from real life. This book isn't all croissants and crepes. It's her kids having difficulty in school and getting in trouble. It's difficulties navigating the French. It's dealing with her mother-in-law's ridiculously overweight dog. It's fun. Yes, James leads an incredibly glamorous life compared to the rest of us, but she's a real person doing it, and if this is how she writes, well, I just may have to start reading romances.
So you can imagine my surprise when 1) I didn't want to book to end and 2) I decided I'd like Eloisa James to be my new best friend. Seriously. I was so bummed when the family prepared to return back home because all I could think was "I'm not done being in Paris with you!"
Even with my negative mindset, I enjoyed this book as I haven't enjoyed a book in a while. It was the perfect summer read. Because of the structure of short bits, it was easy to dip in and out of. James has a wonderful voice and she doesn't shy away from real life. This book isn't all croissants and crepes. It's her kids having difficulty in school and getting in trouble. It's difficulties navigating the French. It's dealing with her mother-in-law's ridiculously overweight dog. It's fun. Yes, James leads an incredibly glamorous life compared to the rest of us, but she's a real person doing it, and if this is how she writes, well, I just may have to start reading romances.
April 1, 2019
I really wanted to love this audiobook. A romance writer recovers from cancer, has a changed outlook on life and decides to move her family to Paris for a year? It sounded like just the light read that I was looking for. But it was a little too light. I expected some meaning-of-life type revelations in the story, but it wasn’t about that. It's a collection of Facebook posts that Eloisa James made while in Paris. She compiled them and sold them as a memoir.
The anecdotes might have read better in print, but as an audiobook, I found the story to be a little choppy, abrupt, and not nearly well-fleshed out enough. She would introduce something, touching upon it at a surface level, and then move onto the next topic. Although, she does revisit some of the same themes in later snippets, which helped to give me a sense of her thoughts and experiences in a more robust way.
I think this audiobook targets a very specific audience--parents. A lot of the ‘humour’ in the story comes from the things that her children do. She reminds me of a typical parent--someone who thinks that everything their child does or says is pure gold. Maybe Eloisa James was a little too honest in her memoirs. She needed to spice things up a bit, because, honestly, it wasn’t that funny.
I give it two stars because it is what it is, and the writing did make me feel like I was back in Paris. Paris in Love is not groundbreaking literature, it isn’t gut-splittingly hilarious, or even romantic, despite the title and gorgeous cover. It is, however, a quick read, however forgettable it might be.
Read my other reviews at https://powerlibrarian.wordpress.com/
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My 2019 Reading Challenge
The anecdotes might have read better in print, but as an audiobook, I found the story to be a little choppy, abrupt, and not nearly well-fleshed out enough. She would introduce something, touching upon it at a surface level, and then move onto the next topic. Although, she does revisit some of the same themes in later snippets, which helped to give me a sense of her thoughts and experiences in a more robust way.
I think this audiobook targets a very specific audience--parents. A lot of the ‘humour’ in the story comes from the things that her children do. She reminds me of a typical parent--someone who thinks that everything their child does or says is pure gold. Maybe Eloisa James was a little too honest in her memoirs. She needed to spice things up a bit, because, honestly, it wasn’t that funny.
I give it two stars because it is what it is, and the writing did make me feel like I was back in Paris. Paris in Love is not groundbreaking literature, it isn’t gut-splittingly hilarious, or even romantic, despite the title and gorgeous cover. It is, however, a quick read, however forgettable it might be.
Read my other reviews at https://powerlibrarian.wordpress.com/
Instagram | Blog | Website | Twitter
My 2019 Reading Challenge
November 29, 2016
This reads like the author took a bunch of her Facebook status updates from her time in Paris and expanded them slightly. Because that's what actually happened.
April 19, 2012
Confession: I have a secret fantasy of running away to live in Paris. So is it any wonder that with spring unfolding, making me restless for an adventure, I devoured Paris in Love: A Memoir by Eloisa James as if it were a gorgeous box of Laduree pastries?
And yes, it is the same Eloisa James, the famous author of romances. If anyone could even imagine selling one's possessions and uprooting one's family to live in Paris for a year, not to mention having the guts to actually do it - I would think it would be someone who earned a living creating romantic visions.
Another confession: I've never read any of James's (aka Mary Bly's) romance novels, but having read her witty, touching, and, above all, exuberant memoir, I am now eager to pick up her fictional works. She has won over a new fan!
Paris in Love begins not with a sunny prologue as one would expect, but an unsentimental and sobering chapter, all the more powerful in its brevity, which explains that James got hit with a double whammy of terrible events in rapid succession: her mother died of cancer and she herself got a diagnosis of breast cancer. Instantly the reader realizes that Paris in Love promises to be a travel memoir grounded in reality; that having survived such a harrowing period, James's and her family's year in Paris is truly a celebration of living life to the fullest.
"I am making only one New Year's resolution this year. I'm ignoring the obvious: my overly tight clothing. Instead I will take my Parisian Christmas with me back to New York City in the fall. My cocottes will remind me that food is meant to be served to others, to be beautiful, to be original (even violet-colored), to be dreamed over. They will remind me that indulgence is not a virtue we should keep for the holiday season alone, and that saving time---when it comes to food---is more sinful than virtuous.
"My Parisian December went a long way to mending a crack in my heart caused by the words 'the biopsy was positive.' To eat as the French do is to celebrate life, even to indulge in it."
Paris in Love reads just like a box of bonbons - bite-sized, one-paragraph snippets of delicious observations that develop into interweaving themes and stories over the course of the book: her husband's coaching of a lovelorn Frenchman, James's blossoming appreciation for food and cooking in this famed grastonomic city while lamenting her increasing weight, their children's misadventures in their Italian language school, and of course all the anecdotes about beautiful, enchanting Paris and Parisiennes. Interspered between the pastiche of their Parisian life are longer, intimate essays - memories of James's mother, her childhood, her marriage, her beloved friend who died of cancer.
I have to say that even more enchanting than Paris herself is Anna, James's Harry Potter-loving, trouble-making, hilarious, and utterly loveable ten-year-old. I laughed pretty much every time James wrote about her antics.
"The Hall of Mirrors at Versailles is gracious, elegant, and jaw-droppingly beautiful. I drifted down the center dreaming that I was a member of the nobless ancienne, my imaginary skirts extending three feet to each side. We all had audio tours; over the elegant sound of a British man informing me about architectural details, I heard Anna talking to her cousin Zoe: 'I dare you to pick your nose in front of that mirror...Go on, I dare you!'"
Upon reflection, Paris in Love is more than a melange of sweets - it is a complex and varied tasting course which ultimately satisfies.
And yes, it is the same Eloisa James, the famous author of romances. If anyone could even imagine selling one's possessions and uprooting one's family to live in Paris for a year, not to mention having the guts to actually do it - I would think it would be someone who earned a living creating romantic visions.
Another confession: I've never read any of James's (aka Mary Bly's) romance novels, but having read her witty, touching, and, above all, exuberant memoir, I am now eager to pick up her fictional works. She has won over a new fan!
Paris in Love begins not with a sunny prologue as one would expect, but an unsentimental and sobering chapter, all the more powerful in its brevity, which explains that James got hit with a double whammy of terrible events in rapid succession: her mother died of cancer and she herself got a diagnosis of breast cancer. Instantly the reader realizes that Paris in Love promises to be a travel memoir grounded in reality; that having survived such a harrowing period, James's and her family's year in Paris is truly a celebration of living life to the fullest.
"I am making only one New Year's resolution this year. I'm ignoring the obvious: my overly tight clothing. Instead I will take my Parisian Christmas with me back to New York City in the fall. My cocottes will remind me that food is meant to be served to others, to be beautiful, to be original (even violet-colored), to be dreamed over. They will remind me that indulgence is not a virtue we should keep for the holiday season alone, and that saving time---when it comes to food---is more sinful than virtuous.
"My Parisian December went a long way to mending a crack in my heart caused by the words 'the biopsy was positive.' To eat as the French do is to celebrate life, even to indulge in it."
Paris in Love reads just like a box of bonbons - bite-sized, one-paragraph snippets of delicious observations that develop into interweaving themes and stories over the course of the book: her husband's coaching of a lovelorn Frenchman, James's blossoming appreciation for food and cooking in this famed grastonomic city while lamenting her increasing weight, their children's misadventures in their Italian language school, and of course all the anecdotes about beautiful, enchanting Paris and Parisiennes. Interspered between the pastiche of their Parisian life are longer, intimate essays - memories of James's mother, her childhood, her marriage, her beloved friend who died of cancer.
I have to say that even more enchanting than Paris herself is Anna, James's Harry Potter-loving, trouble-making, hilarious, and utterly loveable ten-year-old. I laughed pretty much every time James wrote about her antics.
"The Hall of Mirrors at Versailles is gracious, elegant, and jaw-droppingly beautiful. I drifted down the center dreaming that I was a member of the nobless ancienne, my imaginary skirts extending three feet to each side. We all had audio tours; over the elegant sound of a British man informing me about architectural details, I heard Anna talking to her cousin Zoe: 'I dare you to pick your nose in front of that mirror...Go on, I dare you!'"
Upon reflection, Paris in Love is more than a melange of sweets - it is a complex and varied tasting course which ultimately satisfies.
July 17, 2023
File Under Lifestyle Porn - Subcategory: I live in Paris and you don’t. Three Stars is my new One Star rating
I disliked this enough to give it one star, but I didn’t want to stand out as someone with an ax to grind (I do) so I was going to give it two. Then I read a bunch of other people who rated it one star and hated it so I decided to be truthful.
Alternative Titles:
Mundane, Mundaner, Mundanest! or Bland & Blander
First of all, one year isn’t enough time to come to anything resembling an insightful observation about Paris, not really. The next thing is that she obviously can easily afford to live in Paris for a year which means that there is no risk involved in what she wants us to believe is such a brave decision on her part. How many of you wouldn’t move to Paris in a New York minute if you had the dough to cover it? I’m guessing a lot of you. This was one of my biggest criticisms of Eat, Pray, Love. She had an $80,000 advance on the book so she shouldn’t throw her arm out of the socket patting herself on the back for her “adventure.” A real adventure involves considerable risk.
So I’ve watched a video or two with the author, a very attractive woman who seems to have it all. I don’t hate her, and I’m certainly not jealous, I just don’t find what she writes to be entertaining in the least. She obviously doesn't speak French, or very, very little.
A torrent of boring and mostly annoying anecdotes about her perfect life. Did she mention that she was living in Paris? The thing is, that isn’t enough, not nearly enough, but she obviously had the contacts in the publishing world to get her version of the expat life into print. She also happens to be a very attractive woman which certainly helps, even though looks should have absolutely nothing to do with selling books.
I very soon realized that these would make up the entire book: pithy and clever (so she thinks) observations of every mundane aspect of expat life. I would have quickly unfollowed her on Facebook so as not to be deluged with her not-very-illuminating takes on life in the French capital.
Her overly-familiar tone got on my nerves from the very start, it’s like she’s is talking to us like we actually give a shit about her husband and children, like we’re part of it. I already have a mostly-annoying family, so no thanks on yours. Nothing personal.
I’m not cherry-picking her shittiest entries, I swear, but here a two examples of her writing chops:
After much sniffing, I have decided on my favorite French soap. It’s made by a company called Resonances, and sold at Galeries Lafayette Maison in big blocks that you cut in half. It’s scented with vervain, which I had to look up; it’s a wildflower also called “herb of grace.” The scent reminds me of lemons and wind-dried laundry.
This bores me to tears. The shit probably costs more than some expats spend on rent in Paris.
Today is rainy, cool, and windy. The sky is silvery gray, like silk skirts of a Victorian lady long widowed, and still regretful.
This makes me want to puke, and I don't have any idea what it means.
I disliked this enough to give it one star, but I didn’t want to stand out as someone with an ax to grind (I do) so I was going to give it two. Then I read a bunch of other people who rated it one star and hated it so I decided to be truthful.
Alternative Titles:
Mundane, Mundaner, Mundanest! or Bland & Blander
First of all, one year isn’t enough time to come to anything resembling an insightful observation about Paris, not really. The next thing is that she obviously can easily afford to live in Paris for a year which means that there is no risk involved in what she wants us to believe is such a brave decision on her part. How many of you wouldn’t move to Paris in a New York minute if you had the dough to cover it? I’m guessing a lot of you. This was one of my biggest criticisms of Eat, Pray, Love. She had an $80,000 advance on the book so she shouldn’t throw her arm out of the socket patting herself on the back for her “adventure.” A real adventure involves considerable risk.
So I’ve watched a video or two with the author, a very attractive woman who seems to have it all. I don’t hate her, and I’m certainly not jealous, I just don’t find what she writes to be entertaining in the least. She obviously doesn't speak French, or very, very little.
A torrent of boring and mostly annoying anecdotes about her perfect life. Did she mention that she was living in Paris? The thing is, that isn’t enough, not nearly enough, but she obviously had the contacts in the publishing world to get her version of the expat life into print. She also happens to be a very attractive woman which certainly helps, even though looks should have absolutely nothing to do with selling books.
I very soon realized that these would make up the entire book: pithy and clever (so she thinks) observations of every mundane aspect of expat life. I would have quickly unfollowed her on Facebook so as not to be deluged with her not-very-illuminating takes on life in the French capital.
Her overly-familiar tone got on my nerves from the very start, it’s like she’s is talking to us like we actually give a shit about her husband and children, like we’re part of it. I already have a mostly-annoying family, so no thanks on yours. Nothing personal.
I’m not cherry-picking her shittiest entries, I swear, but here a two examples of her writing chops:
After much sniffing, I have decided on my favorite French soap. It’s made by a company called Resonances, and sold at Galeries Lafayette Maison in big blocks that you cut in half. It’s scented with vervain, which I had to look up; it’s a wildflower also called “herb of grace.” The scent reminds me of lemons and wind-dried laundry.
This bores me to tears. The shit probably costs more than some expats spend on rent in Paris.
Today is rainy, cool, and windy. The sky is silvery gray, like silk skirts of a Victorian lady long widowed, and still regretful.
This makes me want to puke, and I don't have any idea what it means.
September 6, 2012
I loved this! Not because I adore Paris (I do), but because it made me feel happy when reading it. I think it could have been a memoir about the author living just about anywhere, and I would have liked it just as well.
It's a great book to read when you only have little bits of time here and there. The one drawback I can think of was that there were times I wanted her to continue on with a certain part in the story, instead of the short paragraph we got. I was very sad when it came to an end, but it has inspired me to pay attention to the little details in life and enjoy them more.
It's a great book to read when you only have little bits of time here and there. The one drawback I can think of was that there were times I wanted her to continue on with a certain part in the story, instead of the short paragraph we got. I was very sad when it came to an end, but it has inspired me to pay attention to the little details in life and enjoy them more.
December 25, 2012
I remember when a friend of ours recommended comedian Steven Wright to my husband, and for a while this Steven Wright tape was playing in my house (tape -- how I date myself!). I don't remember a lot of specific lines, but it kind of went like this:
2-5 line anecdote
Punch line
Pause (which my mind would fill in with an imaginary drum/cymbals clash letting you know you just heard the punch line)
Next anecdote
And so on.
That's exactly what listening to this memoir was like.
My kid hates Paris.
Except for the chocolate.
The grocer has a crush on my husband.
So she switches our order for more gourmet items.
And suddenly I realize our bill has gone up.
Come to think of it, this was like listening to a bunch of thematically linked but otherwise disconnected haikus. I don't know if that's your style, but it sure isn't mine.
I happen to be from the pre-facebook generation (and always will be, I think; never joined it, never will) and my attention span needs a more seamless narrative than a bunch of sound bytes. I did like the topic, and as someone who made a transatlantic move from the States with school-aged kids, I thought I'd be able to relate to Eloisa's experience. But both the style and the content felt so superficial to me that I ended up tuning out and, after a while, giving up.
2-5 line anecdote
Punch line
Pause (which my mind would fill in with an imaginary drum/cymbals clash letting you know you just heard the punch line)
Next anecdote
And so on.
That's exactly what listening to this memoir was like.
My kid hates Paris.
Except for the chocolate.
The grocer has a crush on my husband.
So she switches our order for more gourmet items.
And suddenly I realize our bill has gone up.
Come to think of it, this was like listening to a bunch of thematically linked but otherwise disconnected haikus. I don't know if that's your style, but it sure isn't mine.
I happen to be from the pre-facebook generation (and always will be, I think; never joined it, never will) and my attention span needs a more seamless narrative than a bunch of sound bytes. I did like the topic, and as someone who made a transatlantic move from the States with school-aged kids, I thought I'd be able to relate to Eloisa's experience. But both the style and the content felt so superficial to me that I ended up tuning out and, after a while, giving up.
May 1, 2020
Premise was good, however this book fell short in that it was done in a daily personal journal kind of way. I did this, she said that, we went here, we ate this, I gained weight from eating too many French chocolates and bon bons. There’s a heck of alot of eating going on!
There’s shopping and a scrutiny of Paris women and fashions. Scattered in between were some deep personal revelations and descriptions on the beauty and history of Paris. For those, I’m adding one additional star. There are some French recipes and at the end is a little guide on recommended places to see, or again, restaurants to eat at or where to get candies or bakery at if you ever find yourself in Paris.
Basically, this was like reading someone’s diary or self promoting Facebook entries and that style was just not entertaining for me. Overall, just an ok, average read.
I also have noticed on GoodReads that there are similar books by other authors that run along the same vein on Paris story writing.
There’s shopping and a scrutiny of Paris women and fashions. Scattered in between were some deep personal revelations and descriptions on the beauty and history of Paris. For those, I’m adding one additional star. There are some French recipes and at the end is a little guide on recommended places to see, or again, restaurants to eat at or where to get candies or bakery at if you ever find yourself in Paris.
Basically, this was like reading someone’s diary or self promoting Facebook entries and that style was just not entertaining for me. Overall, just an ok, average read.
I also have noticed on GoodReads that there are similar books by other authors that run along the same vein on Paris story writing.
July 21, 2013
Not sure what I was expecting with this book but whatever it was I didn't get it. This isn't really a book or memoir at all, rather, this is a copy and paste from her facebook blog over a year of living in Paris. For a Shakespeare professor I was expecting some sort of grand adventure.
Not that at all unless you are moved to tears over the butcher giving the lady extra sausages at discount because he is infatuated with her.
Not sure why I am giving it a 2 star as this one is one of the least return on investments that I have had the misfortune of stumbling into. Some of the scenes are humorous I suppose. It is overwritten but that is what you get whenever you read a professor's writing.
When I say overwritten I imply using wording and phrases that you would never find in the real world only in some girl's fantasyland.
Not that at all unless you are moved to tears over the butcher giving the lady extra sausages at discount because he is infatuated with her.
Not sure why I am giving it a 2 star as this one is one of the least return on investments that I have had the misfortune of stumbling into. Some of the scenes are humorous I suppose. It is overwritten but that is what you get whenever you read a professor's writing.
When I say overwritten I imply using wording and phrases that you would never find in the real world only in some girl's fantasyland.
August 7, 2019
I expected more from this novel which was split into different chapters of this author’s year in Paris that I wish came with a separate lesson to be learned, but instead we were given snippets of this author’s life with her rambunctious children that stole my heart and kindhearted husband and their adventures, primarily centered around food. I wish this novel’s sections each had a specific topic or lesson that the author focused upon rather than it being little snapshots of her daily adventures that were short, sparse, and left little to imagine.
After reading Bella Figura, a wonderful travel memoir that left me inspired, invigorated, and in awe, I wanted more from this story but was left a little unimpressed and indifferent. While the characters were interesting, I wish this story had a different structure that could have captured my attention more.
After reading Bella Figura, a wonderful travel memoir that left me inspired, invigorated, and in awe, I wanted more from this story but was left a little unimpressed and indifferent. While the characters were interesting, I wish this story had a different structure that could have captured my attention more.
August 28, 2012
I read this book in just a few days, the last one memorably while lounging on my bed for several hours, refreshing myself with homemade French-inspired little chocolate rolls feeling extremely decadent but wonderfully justified. After all, I haven't been on a vacation this year and is not likely to go either. So this was my intellectual farniente and blessed it was. Romance author Eloisa James (no, I've never read any of her books but I might read one just for kicks) spent a year in Paris with her Italian husband, Alessandro (I love his name, btw, presumably because I love actor Alessandro Nivola) and their son Lucca and daughter Anna. Eloisa had just survived a bout with the same breast cancer which had killed her mother just a couple years previous and she was ripe for some LIVING with a big L. Both she and her husband are professors with access to sabbaticals (and also selling home and cars) so they spent a year in Paris with their children attending italian/french schools (both are fluent in italian with a smattering of french). This is an unusual biography as it contains short vignettes of their year in Paris (with side trips to Alessandro's native Italy) gathered from Eloisa's Facebook musings. I just could hardly put this book down, even reading some of these out loud to my husband. Here is just a sample "Last night the air was so warm and beautiful that Alessandro and I walked much farther than usual-all the way past would-be aristocrats enjoying champagne on the lawns of the Louvre, down through the Tuileries, toward the Opera...at last collapsing into Cafe de la Paix, with its gaudy, gilded (but quite lovely) ceiling. My hot chocolate came in two silver pitchers. One held melted chocolate, as dark and thick as lava, the second steaming hot milk. Heaven!". Don't think though all memories were rosy (and chocolatey). Eloisa includes sometimes everyday, funny and unfunny, things that happened to their kids at school (including struggling with homework, finding friends, pranks,etc.) and to herself as she, for example, stalks French women to figure out while they look so good all the time (it isn't because they're all thin because they are not) or get acquainted with various museums, shops and even homeless people. (As an aside, I obviously have NOT inherited innate french fashion-sense, maybe due to the fact I'm really only 1/4 french--other 1/4 is french-belgian--all the difference apparently...)It's a wonderful hodge-podge of wonderful, funny, irrevent, sad, tug-at-your-heart strings snapshots of a italian-american family in Paris.
July 23, 2012
I don't think the book cover gives a very accurate description of what this book is about. The Introduction, which you can read on Amazon gives a much better description. Eloisa was diagnosed with breast cancer 2 weeks after losing her mother to cancer. This scare was the main motivator for the move to Paris. The book cover kinda implies that Eloisa and her family randomly decided to move to Paris just to write about their life there.
This is a collection of Facebook posts and tweets that Eloisa wrote while she was in Paris and later decided to form into a book. They have been "organized, revised, a few expanded into short essays." Basically, every paragraph is about a different day/experience in Paris. I found this writing style to get a little monotonous to read after awhile, as every paragraph seemed to have some profound meaning. Eventually, I started to skim each page for actual details about life in Paris. There were way too many paragraphs that detailed the beautiful outfits and the amazing food in detail.
I really enjoyed the posts about her daughter. She is hysterical! I was also incredibly moved by Rose's chapter. There are so many places that I want to see before I die.
Over all I did enjoy this book, but I would recommend borrowing it from someone if you can.
This is a collection of Facebook posts and tweets that Eloisa wrote while she was in Paris and later decided to form into a book. They have been "organized, revised, a few expanded into short essays." Basically, every paragraph is about a different day/experience in Paris. I found this writing style to get a little monotonous to read after awhile, as every paragraph seemed to have some profound meaning. Eventually, I started to skim each page for actual details about life in Paris. There were way too many paragraphs that detailed the beautiful outfits and the amazing food in detail.
I really enjoyed the posts about her daughter. She is hysterical! I was also incredibly moved by Rose's chapter. There are so many places that I want to see before I die.
Over all I did enjoy this book, but I would recommend borrowing it from someone if you can.
August 2, 2012
I hate giving up on a book. Hate it. For a long while, I refused to let myself do it. But at some point I realized that there are just too many good books out there to spend my time slogging through something I don't like. That being said, it's still pretty rare for me to put down a book unfinished.
Unfortunately, that's what happened with this one. I gave it the old college try, but at 130 pages in, I finally put it down. I really don't like it when authors use gimmicks in their books. To me, if a book is well-written with a lovely and creative premise behind it, it can stand on its own. It really bothered me that this book seemed like nothing more than a bunch of expanded and repurposed tweets and Facebook status updates. Maybe that would fly if they were somehow chock full of little bites of wisdom, but I found them entirely too narcissistic for my taste. I've never read an Eloisa James novel before, but I sincerely hope they are better than this.
Unfortunately, that's what happened with this one. I gave it the old college try, but at 130 pages in, I finally put it down. I really don't like it when authors use gimmicks in their books. To me, if a book is well-written with a lovely and creative premise behind it, it can stand on its own. It really bothered me that this book seemed like nothing more than a bunch of expanded and repurposed tweets and Facebook status updates. Maybe that would fly if they were somehow chock full of little bites of wisdom, but I found them entirely too narcissistic for my taste. I've never read an Eloisa James novel before, but I sincerely hope they are better than this.
May 3, 2012
Review of Paris in Love by Eloisa James
It's not often that I splurge on a Kindle book over $10. And this one was $12.99. It is an extremely rare occurrence. But word-on-the-street was that this book was fabulous. And so I splurged. With just the slightest of guilty pangs as I pushed the one-click button at Amazon.
When I started to read it, and I realized that it was Facebook status updates strung together, I was pissed! (Just ask Julia Barrett, who was my roommate in Salem). "What is this!" I complained. Loudly. "There is no rhyme or reason to this. There's no story arc. It's meandering. I sure hope this structure doesn't last for the whole damned book." Julia nodded her head in sympathy and probably thought, "Uh oh. Penelope's on a rampage."
But something happened yesterday. I sat down with a glass of red wine and my Kindle, and I started to read. The short, unconnected observations about life in Paris continued. Many about food. Some about Parisian clothing stores. Funny stories about James' family and pudgy dog. A homeless man on the street. The color of the sky.
And I stopped trying to find a common theme. I stopped looking for structure...a beginning, middle and end. I stopped searching for the overlying story arc that would connect all these bits and pieces into something tight and meaningful.
And I just read.
And I got lost in this meandering journey with James. I tasted the flaky, buttery fish with her. And I cringed at her daughter's bullying stories. I laughed with her, and I cried. A lot. There are an uncanny number of similarities between our two lives....we both have younger quirky daughters, surly teenage sons, best friend husbands, and cool dogs. And that one moment in our lives that changed everything. Hers was this... "the biopsy was positive." And mine, "Your EKG is abnormal"---that moment that I realized I was not experiencing hot flashes after all, and my life (if I was lucky enough to still have it) was going to change dramatically.
And so, when I finished this book last night, I was in awe of James' brilliance. Because our lives are not tight, structured novels with overlying story arcs. They are simple moments strung together. Silly moments, profound moments, beautiful moments, angry moments. We meander from one to the next, jumping along, as though life were a giant hopscotch grid.
One of the best observations she made concerned how people walk. In New York City, they are rushing to their destination. There is no stopping to say hello and kiss a friend, chat with a homeless man, stop to smell a freshly baked baguette. James had to learn to slow down in Paris. Even something as simple as walking down the sidewalk was a totally different experience, and she embraced this new approach. And she took it home with her to the States.
This book is a lovely, charming and meandering reminder to embrace our moments. I'm so glad Eloisa James chose to share her year in Paris with all of us.
Grade: A
Meandering along,
Penelope
It's not often that I splurge on a Kindle book over $10. And this one was $12.99. It is an extremely rare occurrence. But word-on-the-street was that this book was fabulous. And so I splurged. With just the slightest of guilty pangs as I pushed the one-click button at Amazon.
When I started to read it, and I realized that it was Facebook status updates strung together, I was pissed! (Just ask Julia Barrett, who was my roommate in Salem). "What is this!" I complained. Loudly. "There is no rhyme or reason to this. There's no story arc. It's meandering. I sure hope this structure doesn't last for the whole damned book." Julia nodded her head in sympathy and probably thought, "Uh oh. Penelope's on a rampage."
But something happened yesterday. I sat down with a glass of red wine and my Kindle, and I started to read. The short, unconnected observations about life in Paris continued. Many about food. Some about Parisian clothing stores. Funny stories about James' family and pudgy dog. A homeless man on the street. The color of the sky.
And I stopped trying to find a common theme. I stopped looking for structure...a beginning, middle and end. I stopped searching for the overlying story arc that would connect all these bits and pieces into something tight and meaningful.
And I just read.
And I got lost in this meandering journey with James. I tasted the flaky, buttery fish with her. And I cringed at her daughter's bullying stories. I laughed with her, and I cried. A lot. There are an uncanny number of similarities between our two lives....we both have younger quirky daughters, surly teenage sons, best friend husbands, and cool dogs. And that one moment in our lives that changed everything. Hers was this... "the biopsy was positive." And mine, "Your EKG is abnormal"---that moment that I realized I was not experiencing hot flashes after all, and my life (if I was lucky enough to still have it) was going to change dramatically.
And so, when I finished this book last night, I was in awe of James' brilliance. Because our lives are not tight, structured novels with overlying story arcs. They are simple moments strung together. Silly moments, profound moments, beautiful moments, angry moments. We meander from one to the next, jumping along, as though life were a giant hopscotch grid.
One of the best observations she made concerned how people walk. In New York City, they are rushing to their destination. There is no stopping to say hello and kiss a friend, chat with a homeless man, stop to smell a freshly baked baguette. James had to learn to slow down in Paris. Even something as simple as walking down the sidewalk was a totally different experience, and she embraced this new approach. And she took it home with her to the States.
This book is a lovely, charming and meandering reminder to embrace our moments. I'm so glad Eloisa James chose to share her year in Paris with all of us.
Grade: A
Meandering along,
Penelope
May 3, 2025
Eloisa James' enjoyable memoir of spending a year's sabbatical living in Paris with her husband and (then) teenaged son and pre-teen daughter. It's a love letter to Paris, as well as a realistic and likeable glimpse into her family life as it was at the time of writing.
The book was apparently based on a kind of Facebook diary kept by James during that year. Subsequently it was then collated into a readable book. As a result of its origins, the book is mainly a series of short paragraphs/vignettes of memorable places and moments through the year, interspersed with some short essays of several pages on various events or topics. It wasn't what I expected, but the structure of the book turned out to be a pleasant reading experience. Easy to read, a bit 'choppy' at times, but it maintained my interest right through to the end, and the family's inevitable return to the US.
The book isn't necessarily just for fans of James' historical romances. It stands up well on its own as an interesting book about a 21st century American family's experiences of the beautiful city of Paris.
The book was apparently based on a kind of Facebook diary kept by James during that year. Subsequently it was then collated into a readable book. As a result of its origins, the book is mainly a series of short paragraphs/vignettes of memorable places and moments through the year, interspersed with some short essays of several pages on various events or topics. It wasn't what I expected, but the structure of the book turned out to be a pleasant reading experience. Easy to read, a bit 'choppy' at times, but it maintained my interest right through to the end, and the family's inevitable return to the US.
The book isn't necessarily just for fans of James' historical romances. It stands up well on its own as an interesting book about a 21st century American family's experiences of the beautiful city of Paris.
January 27, 2013
A shortened version of this review was originally published at StoryCircleBookReviews:
http://www.storycirclebookreviews.org...
There are many memoirs of Paris, but this one is unusual. Written by a bestselling writer of romance novels, it’s simultaneously lyrical, cheeky, and utterly matter-of-fact. Although I don’t like the author’s Regency romances, I thought it was fitting that a romance writer should write a modern memoir about the most romantic of cities – Paris. I wasn’t disappointed: I fell in love with the book and its author.
I should probably mention that in real life, outside her romance-writing gig, the author bears another name – Mary Bly – and is a Shakespeare professor. In her introduction, she explains that her decision to relocate to Paris for a year crystallized after her bout with breast cancer. She took a sabbatical from both her careers – teaching university and writing romances – and moved with her husband and two children, ages 11 and 15, to Paris. During her year in Paris, she wrote multiple short posts on Facebook, an informal journal of sorts, and these entries, organized and cleaned up, formed the bulk of this memoir.
The main theme of the book is the joy of life. Whatever the brief entries are about – the children’s struggles with French or gastronomical delights, the rainy weather or Parisiennes’ flair for fashion, tiny museums off the tourist path or the homeless of Paris – they all brim with humor and sensitivity. Everything the author sees or hears makes her glad to be alive, and she shares her gladness with her friends.
As I read her vivid descriptions, I felt as if I was in Paris too. I followed the heroine on her everyday’s small adventures, savored the unfamiliar dishes alongside her, and admired the centuries-old architecture. I lived vicariously through the keen observations of a marvelous writer.
Here she lusted after someone’s stylish bag, and I recognized myself. There she selected a new lacy bra in a boutique or enjoyed a dessert whose French name sounded heavenly and whose description made me salivate. On the next page, she might include a heart-wrenching essay on the death of her friend or her musing about the French’s propensity for kissing.
Although the details and events of the book are often mundane, seemingly insignificant, it was hard for me to put the book down. I hankered for more. I wanted to know what happened next: the next day, the next street, the next encounter, the next escapade of her precocious daughter of her mother-in-law’s absurdly obese dog.
Laughter was a gift of this book. The author makes fun of everyone, but her prime target is invariably herself. Her irony is never offensive, always tasteful, intertwined with kindness, and her love for her family gleams off the pages.
The language, on the surface deceptively simple, is rich and expressive, and her metaphors are astoundingly graphic. She writes about the roofs and the sky:
Another entry – about her fifteen-year-old son, who for the first time in his life discarded ketchup for the local flavor:
One of her conversations with her husband. It would resonate with parents everywhere:
Overall impression: a lovely book; charming, alluring, poignant, and extremely funny.
http://www.storycirclebookreviews.org...
There are many memoirs of Paris, but this one is unusual. Written by a bestselling writer of romance novels, it’s simultaneously lyrical, cheeky, and utterly matter-of-fact. Although I don’t like the author’s Regency romances, I thought it was fitting that a romance writer should write a modern memoir about the most romantic of cities – Paris. I wasn’t disappointed: I fell in love with the book and its author.
I should probably mention that in real life, outside her romance-writing gig, the author bears another name – Mary Bly – and is a Shakespeare professor. In her introduction, she explains that her decision to relocate to Paris for a year crystallized after her bout with breast cancer. She took a sabbatical from both her careers – teaching university and writing romances – and moved with her husband and two children, ages 11 and 15, to Paris. During her year in Paris, she wrote multiple short posts on Facebook, an informal journal of sorts, and these entries, organized and cleaned up, formed the bulk of this memoir.
The main theme of the book is the joy of life. Whatever the brief entries are about – the children’s struggles with French or gastronomical delights, the rainy weather or Parisiennes’ flair for fashion, tiny museums off the tourist path or the homeless of Paris – they all brim with humor and sensitivity. Everything the author sees or hears makes her glad to be alive, and she shares her gladness with her friends.
As I read her vivid descriptions, I felt as if I was in Paris too. I followed the heroine on her everyday’s small adventures, savored the unfamiliar dishes alongside her, and admired the centuries-old architecture. I lived vicariously through the keen observations of a marvelous writer.
Here she lusted after someone’s stylish bag, and I recognized myself. There she selected a new lacy bra in a boutique or enjoyed a dessert whose French name sounded heavenly and whose description made me salivate. On the next page, she might include a heart-wrenching essay on the death of her friend or her musing about the French’s propensity for kissing.
Although the details and events of the book are often mundane, seemingly insignificant, it was hard for me to put the book down. I hankered for more. I wanted to know what happened next: the next day, the next street, the next encounter, the next escapade of her precocious daughter of her mother-in-law’s absurdly obese dog.
Laughter was a gift of this book. The author makes fun of everyone, but her prime target is invariably herself. Her irony is never offensive, always tasteful, intertwined with kindness, and her love for her family gleams off the pages.
The language, on the surface deceptively simple, is rich and expressive, and her metaphors are astoundingly graphic. She writes about the roofs and the sky:
The contrast was almost imperceptible, as if marble and air danced cheek to cheek.
Another entry – about her fifteen-year-old son, who for the first time in his life discarded ketchup for the local flavor:
He waved his unopened ketchup bottle in the air and announced: “Do you know what this means, Mom?” Yes, I do. It means that somewhere, in some remote part of the world, a pig just levitated gracefully and flew around his pen, that’s what.
One of her conversations with her husband. It would resonate with parents everywhere:
Paging Dr. Freud: Me, at breakfast, to Alessandro: “The catacombs sound so interesting! In 1741, a man wandered off, and his body wasn’t found for nine years. Let’s take the children this afternoon.” Moment of silence…then gales of laughter. We’re going.
Overall impression: a lovely book; charming, alluring, poignant, and extremely funny.
June 25, 2019
Livro levezinho e autobiográfico da autora do ano passado em Paris com o marido italiano e os 2 filhos adolescentes, após um tratamento de sucesso de cancro da mama. Para além dos estereótipos ligados aos americanos e à cidade de Paris, é um livro construído por postagens de facebook e twitter, ou seja, pequenos trechos, sem um condutor específico. Transmite encantamento e alegria de viver, descobertas e algum divertimento e ternura. Boas sensações num dia de dor de cabeça lancinante. Gostei bem mais do que do romance que li da autora e que, curiosamente, ela escreveu nesta época.
October 5, 2014
I had such a fun time reading this book that I wished it went on forever…
I have no idea Eloisa James was a famous writer before I read the book. Evidently she is a wildly famous historical romance author and an English professor in a University. However, I’m glad that I didn’t know her before I read the book, since I felt like reading the journal entries of a dear friend or the advice giving by another Mother friend with children of the same age. There is no way I could have the same experience if I had known how popular she was.
After recovering from breast cancer, Eloisa took a year off from teaching and her American life, sold her house and car, and moved to Paris for a year. She moved there with her Italian husband, who is also a professor, her teen son and her 10-year old daughter. This book is a collection from her blog and Facebook posts that she had written during that journey. What made this book so fun to read was Eloisa’s wit and humor, and her ability to make every minor detail of her Parisian life interesting.
Here’s one of her passage about skinny Paris women:
“I have discovered at least one secret of thin French women. We were in a restaurant last night, with a chic family seated at the next table. The bread arrived, and a skinny adolescent girl reached for it. Without missing a beat, maman picked up the basket and stowed it on the bookshelf next to the table. I ate more of my bread in sympathy.”
A regular street scene in Paris:
“Archetypal French scene: two boys playing in the street with baguettes were pretending not that they were swords, as I first assumed, but giant penises.”
She also wrote about museums, shops, churches, schools, statues, bridges, parks, French women and men, fashion, people, sights, wonderful Parisian food as well as not-to-miss paintings and pastries. Since I’ve been to Paris before and her detailed and accurate descriptions made me miss the city terribly. Her comparisons of French and American parenting were interesting to read, and quite similar to what Pamela Druckerman wrote about in Bringing up Bebe, another book about France. Her facts about Paris were reliable and accurate; her observations of subtle differences were fun to ponder over. Reading it was like experiencing everything Parisian first hand. Overall, I think it’s a book worth reading, for both people who had been to Paris or not, although it’s kind of short due to the format.
I have no idea Eloisa James was a famous writer before I read the book. Evidently she is a wildly famous historical romance author and an English professor in a University. However, I’m glad that I didn’t know her before I read the book, since I felt like reading the journal entries of a dear friend or the advice giving by another Mother friend with children of the same age. There is no way I could have the same experience if I had known how popular she was.
After recovering from breast cancer, Eloisa took a year off from teaching and her American life, sold her house and car, and moved to Paris for a year. She moved there with her Italian husband, who is also a professor, her teen son and her 10-year old daughter. This book is a collection from her blog and Facebook posts that she had written during that journey. What made this book so fun to read was Eloisa’s wit and humor, and her ability to make every minor detail of her Parisian life interesting.
Here’s one of her passage about skinny Paris women:
“I have discovered at least one secret of thin French women. We were in a restaurant last night, with a chic family seated at the next table. The bread arrived, and a skinny adolescent girl reached for it. Without missing a beat, maman picked up the basket and stowed it on the bookshelf next to the table. I ate more of my bread in sympathy.”
A regular street scene in Paris:
“Archetypal French scene: two boys playing in the street with baguettes were pretending not that they were swords, as I first assumed, but giant penises.”
She also wrote about museums, shops, churches, schools, statues, bridges, parks, French women and men, fashion, people, sights, wonderful Parisian food as well as not-to-miss paintings and pastries. Since I’ve been to Paris before and her detailed and accurate descriptions made me miss the city terribly. Her comparisons of French and American parenting were interesting to read, and quite similar to what Pamela Druckerman wrote about in Bringing up Bebe, another book about France. Her facts about Paris were reliable and accurate; her observations of subtle differences were fun to ponder over. Reading it was like experiencing everything Parisian first hand. Overall, I think it’s a book worth reading, for both people who had been to Paris or not, although it’s kind of short due to the format.
April 23, 2018
(2.5 stars) Is this a book? Not really. Is it a blog? Not anymore. It must be a "blook". (Or maybe a "bog"?)
Mary Bly/aka Eloisa James is a wordsmith and I have often been an admirer of the way she writes. She does not disappoint here. Her way with words and ability to describe sights, thoughts and feelings is just as sharp as ever. What disappoints is the format.
This book took me forever to finish. I started reading it, enjoyed the reading of it, but put it down many a time to pick up something else to read. The "something else" turned into maybe 10 or more novels which I finished reading during the sporadic reading of Bly's memoir.
The problem I had is the same one many a reviewer seems to have had. The snippets-from-her-blog format doesn't lend itself to sit-down-for-hours reading. Instead this book is for picking up and reading at odd moments, somewhat like the occasional snacking on dark chocolate. Reading it that way was an enjoyable experience but I do prefer a more structured format for a memoir.
There were many things I could relate to in this book: The charming but at times bemusing ways of a husband and in-laws of a different nationality; the culture shock but mostly awe of life in a big foreign city; the difficulties of children acclimating to a new type of school; the joys of eating and sightseeing in a foreign country, etc. However, I wish more entries had had a bit more substance to them. A great many were frivolous, albeit humorous and entertaining, ruminations. Bly was on the mend from a very traumatic couple of years, with the death of her mother and her own bout with cancer, so perhaps the light-hearted approach was more healing for her.
I do wish that this had all been written as a more cohesive book. As it is, it's often a delightful read but not quite to my reading taste.
Mary Bly/aka Eloisa James is a wordsmith and I have often been an admirer of the way she writes. She does not disappoint here. Her way with words and ability to describe sights, thoughts and feelings is just as sharp as ever. What disappoints is the format.
This book took me forever to finish. I started reading it, enjoyed the reading of it, but put it down many a time to pick up something else to read. The "something else" turned into maybe 10 or more novels which I finished reading during the sporadic reading of Bly's memoir.
The problem I had is the same one many a reviewer seems to have had. The snippets-from-her-blog format doesn't lend itself to sit-down-for-hours reading. Instead this book is for picking up and reading at odd moments, somewhat like the occasional snacking on dark chocolate. Reading it that way was an enjoyable experience but I do prefer a more structured format for a memoir.
There were many things I could relate to in this book: The charming but at times bemusing ways of a husband and in-laws of a different nationality; the culture shock but mostly awe of life in a big foreign city; the difficulties of children acclimating to a new type of school; the joys of eating and sightseeing in a foreign country, etc. However, I wish more entries had had a bit more substance to them. A great many were frivolous, albeit humorous and entertaining, ruminations. Bly was on the mend from a very traumatic couple of years, with the death of her mother and her own bout with cancer, so perhaps the light-hearted approach was more healing for her.
I do wish that this had all been written as a more cohesive book. As it is, it's often a delightful read but not quite to my reading taste.
July 26, 2013
Eloisa James and her husband took sabbatical leaves from their university jobs, and moved to Paris for a year. Since her husband is Italian, their two children were fortunate to speak both English and Italian fluently, and they were enrolled in an Italian school in Paris. During the year, Eloisa wrote regular Facebook posts about their experiences in Paris. She used these revised posts, along with some longer pieces, to create this very personal look at Paris.
Eloisa was not the type of person to line up for hours to see the "Mona Lisa" at the Louvre. Instead, she found hidden gems, visited small museums, discovered the best places to buy chocolate, and marveled at French lingerie. She loved small Parisian restaurants with great food, had fun with French fashions, and relaxed sipping tea at a cafe. She also saw her kids struggle as they took their classes in Italian, learned French, and made new friends. Eloisa had successful surgery for breast cancer the previous year, so it was good for her to have a complete change of scenery.
I enjoyed this memoir about Eloisa's year in Paris. She writes with humor, is very observant, and has an engaging way of describing everyday events. Nothing is explored in a deep manner, and the book is not a tourist's guide to Paris. Rather, it is a light look at a family soaking up the wonderful experiences Paris can offer.
Eloisa was not the type of person to line up for hours to see the "Mona Lisa" at the Louvre. Instead, she found hidden gems, visited small museums, discovered the best places to buy chocolate, and marveled at French lingerie. She loved small Parisian restaurants with great food, had fun with French fashions, and relaxed sipping tea at a cafe. She also saw her kids struggle as they took their classes in Italian, learned French, and made new friends. Eloisa had successful surgery for breast cancer the previous year, so it was good for her to have a complete change of scenery.
I enjoyed this memoir about Eloisa's year in Paris. She writes with humor, is very observant, and has an engaging way of describing everyday events. Nothing is explored in a deep manner, and the book is not a tourist's guide to Paris. Rather, it is a light look at a family soaking up the wonderful experiences Paris can offer.
April 5, 2012
I was initially a little miffed that the book seemed to be re-purposed facebook posts. My miff vanished almost immediately. This was funny, entertaining, beautiful, and had many wonderful stories woven throughout. I read many passages aloud to my significant other because they were laugh-out-loud funny. I can't wait to re-read this book. Today in the after-glow of finishing it, I feel happier and more uplifted about my own life having read her wonderful experiences of the year in Paris.
Eloisa James/Mary Bly is extremely funny, down-to-earth, relatable, and likable. Reading her book was like having a new friend and I'm sorry our time together was so short.
Eloisa James/Mary Bly is extremely funny, down-to-earth, relatable, and likable. Reading her book was like having a new friend and I'm sorry our time together was so short.
November 10, 2014
Utterly charmed by this memoir by bestselling romance author Eloisa James. Perhaps it's because I spent some time in Paris with my own family this summer, and my oldest is the same age as her daughter, whatever the case...I adored every bit of this. Written at times like extended (fantastically-worded) Facebook updates, other times in more of an essay type format, this is heartwarming and honest and true. Her observations not only of Paris but her children (applicable in any city) were brilliant and how can one not love her daughter's relationship with her arch nemesis? Love, love, loved this in so very many ways.
October 17, 2016
I really enjoyed this book and what it stood for the author. She made it fun, interesting and informative all in one. Really enjoyable book.
April 24, 2021
Unusual format since the author started writing this based on her Facebook and Twitter posts. She expanded some of those to longer essays but most of the book is comprised of fairly short observations. Her sabbatical year in Paris with her family sounds delightful.
April 26, 2012
Cancer, when it rears its ugly head at you or a loved one, shows no mercy. If you're lucky, you can catch it in time and banish it. It is an indiscriminate killer and it can seemingly strike anyone at random. When a person is faced with this disease they can choose to fight or succumb. Luckily, Ms. James caught her cancer in time and fought and won her battle. Her mother however, was not so lucky. Two weeks before her own diagnosis, Eloisa's mother had lost her battle with cancer and passed away. Cancer makes us face our own mortality head on and makes a person get their priorities straight. How did Ms. James deal with the reality check she was given? Well, after getting an okay from her doctor, she basically ran away from home and to Paris, in an attempt to leave all her worries behind. I wish we all could do this as it seems like a very therapeutic thing to do. To take a sabbatical from our daily lives and fully enjoy it for a while. If you could do such a thing, where would you want to go or do? Think about it. Eloisa James did and then she and her family acted upon it.
So the first thing you might wonder about "Paris in Love" is if it is a book about a woman obsessed with cancer who talks about it and her experience with it? The answer is it definitely is not. It's basically a book about living life and enjoying what you have. It's about looking at the wonder of it all (life) and at finding the humor in it. It's also about family and friends and making the time to appreciate each other.
The book gives you an insight into the daily life of Eloisa James and her family as they attempt to blend in to life in Paris for a year. It gives you a taste of the city itself as well as its people. You get glimpses of places Eloisa traveled to such as Italy, Germany, and London as well. She paints the reader a picture upon her pages with words and humor:
- 'People kiss all the time here: romantically, sadly, sweetly, passionately; in greeting and farewell...I hadn't realized that Anna had noticed until yesterday when I suggested perhaps a single-mother situation in her classroom could be explained by divorce. Anna didn't agree. "They don't get divorced here," she reported. "It's 'cause they kiss so much."'
- 'French chickens come with heads and feet still attached...my butcher cradles the bird like a baby, then waggles its head toward Anna, Turning the bird into a clucking version of Jaws.'
- 'It's raining...The umbrellas look like wildly colorful mushrooms sprouting from the pavement. From down the street, they seem to bloom, low and colorful against the gray buildings.'
- 'Venice is like the dream of a sleeping shopaholic--The little, gorgeous footbridges rise into the air and come down into yet other streets of shop windows, shining with gold, velvet, and glass, The streets blend together as if one were wandering in circles, always presented with more to desire, more to buy.'
Eloisa also lets us follow the drama her daughter faces with an arch rival at school. As she puts it, "Every Peter Pan has his Hook, Harry Potter his Malfoy...Anna's nemesis is Domitilla." Plus, we get to follow the lovelorn meanderings of Florent, Alessandro's language exchange partner--Florent attempts to help improve Alessandro's French while Alessandro helps Florent with his Italian. Alessandro, in case you were wondering, is Eloisa's husband who is originally from Italy. Florent's reason for wanting to learn Italian is that he has a crush on a waitress he met in Italy and would like to converse with her. Eloisa gives us her insight on whether French women truly don't get fat and why they always looks so stylish. Additionally, Eloisa created a list of places to see, things to do, and places to go to buy at the back of the book.
Overall, I found this an enjoyable read. I rated it 4 out of 5 roses. I usually don't go for non fiction books, but when you combine Paris and Eloisa James, I just couldn't resist. I found Ms. James' daily observations charming, witty, thoughtful and humorous. I can't help but wonder if perhaps Eloisa's bad hair year might have somehow reflected a bit of what was going on in her own life. She started out not quite herself, but slowly after a year of healing for both the body and soul, while living in Paris enjoying life, she once again resembles her former self. In the introduction Eloisa states, "I never learned to live in the moment, but I did learn that moments could be wasted and the world would continue to spin on its axis." She brings things full circle at the end when she claims, "We learned to waste our moments--together."
To see more of my reviews, please visit my blog at www.seducedbyabook.com I'd greatly appreciate it.
So the first thing you might wonder about "Paris in Love" is if it is a book about a woman obsessed with cancer who talks about it and her experience with it? The answer is it definitely is not. It's basically a book about living life and enjoying what you have. It's about looking at the wonder of it all (life) and at finding the humor in it. It's also about family and friends and making the time to appreciate each other.
The book gives you an insight into the daily life of Eloisa James and her family as they attempt to blend in to life in Paris for a year. It gives you a taste of the city itself as well as its people. You get glimpses of places Eloisa traveled to such as Italy, Germany, and London as well. She paints the reader a picture upon her pages with words and humor:
- 'People kiss all the time here: romantically, sadly, sweetly, passionately; in greeting and farewell...I hadn't realized that Anna had noticed until yesterday when I suggested perhaps a single-mother situation in her classroom could be explained by divorce. Anna didn't agree. "They don't get divorced here," she reported. "It's 'cause they kiss so much."'
- 'French chickens come with heads and feet still attached...my butcher cradles the bird like a baby, then waggles its head toward Anna, Turning the bird into a clucking version of Jaws.'
- 'It's raining...The umbrellas look like wildly colorful mushrooms sprouting from the pavement. From down the street, they seem to bloom, low and colorful against the gray buildings.'
- 'Venice is like the dream of a sleeping shopaholic--The little, gorgeous footbridges rise into the air and come down into yet other streets of shop windows, shining with gold, velvet, and glass, The streets blend together as if one were wandering in circles, always presented with more to desire, more to buy.'
Eloisa also lets us follow the drama her daughter faces with an arch rival at school. As she puts it, "Every Peter Pan has his Hook, Harry Potter his Malfoy...Anna's nemesis is Domitilla." Plus, we get to follow the lovelorn meanderings of Florent, Alessandro's language exchange partner--Florent attempts to help improve Alessandro's French while Alessandro helps Florent with his Italian. Alessandro, in case you were wondering, is Eloisa's husband who is originally from Italy. Florent's reason for wanting to learn Italian is that he has a crush on a waitress he met in Italy and would like to converse with her. Eloisa gives us her insight on whether French women truly don't get fat and why they always looks so stylish. Additionally, Eloisa created a list of places to see, things to do, and places to go to buy at the back of the book.
Overall, I found this an enjoyable read. I rated it 4 out of 5 roses. I usually don't go for non fiction books, but when you combine Paris and Eloisa James, I just couldn't resist. I found Ms. James' daily observations charming, witty, thoughtful and humorous. I can't help but wonder if perhaps Eloisa's bad hair year might have somehow reflected a bit of what was going on in her own life. She started out not quite herself, but slowly after a year of healing for both the body and soul, while living in Paris enjoying life, she once again resembles her former self. In the introduction Eloisa states, "I never learned to live in the moment, but I did learn that moments could be wasted and the world would continue to spin on its axis." She brings things full circle at the end when she claims, "We learned to waste our moments--together."
To see more of my reviews, please visit my blog at www.seducedbyabook.com I'd greatly appreciate it.
October 31, 2012
This book is like a journal of sorts, and I have always enjoyed reading stories like these. I am not sure when I will get to Paris, but at least now I can read about it via Mary Bly's perspective, or should I say Eloisa James since that is the name she writes under.
I enjoyed reading about her getting her son Luca to go to tennis camp, and to get off the computer so he could pass ninth grade. It was also touching reading about how her daughter Anna was enemies with a student, but how this changed when Mary discovered both of the girls were being snubbed at school, and then arranged a play date. These stories about Luca and Anna take you back to a time when you were a kid, and you can also relate if you are a parent.
Plus, of course the descriptions of French food are divine, and I am now surfing the net so I can learn how to make the lemon tarts that are featured as a metaphor in the story about Alessandro's French conversation partner who finally got the woman he was interested in to notice him. So if you have been to Paris, or just want to read about a place you cannot afford to go to, like me, then I highly recommend this fun and witty book
I enjoyed reading about her getting her son Luca to go to tennis camp, and to get off the computer so he could pass ninth grade. It was also touching reading about how her daughter Anna was enemies with a student, but how this changed when Mary discovered both of the girls were being snubbed at school, and then arranged a play date. These stories about Luca and Anna take you back to a time when you were a kid, and you can also relate if you are a parent.
Plus, of course the descriptions of French food are divine, and I am now surfing the net so I can learn how to make the lemon tarts that are featured as a metaphor in the story about Alessandro's French conversation partner who finally got the woman he was interested in to notice him. So if you have been to Paris, or just want to read about a place you cannot afford to go to, like me, then I highly recommend this fun and witty book
January 17, 2019
This wasn’t quite what I expected in a memoir about living in Paris for a year. I’m admittedly often irritated with the idea (I’m looking at you, literary fiction) that moving to France will solve all your problems. Instead this felt like a really honest look at people trying to do something outside their comfort zone, and having a wonderful experience but also moments of doubt, regret and pissed off teenage children.
The short flash-fiction format took a while to get used to, but as a fan of short stories I ended up really enjoying it. It felt like reading a series of love letters to Paris, and to her family. I’ve only been to Paris once, and for a very short amount of time, so it was strange and delightful to realize this book somehow made me nostalgic.
The stories about cancer hit a particular nerve for me, Grief and Rose both made me intensely emotional. The food chapters made me hungry. Anna’s stories made me remember being young and obsessed with Harry Potter. Overall this was a sweet, comforting, unusual but relatable little book and I’m happier for having read it.
The short flash-fiction format took a while to get used to, but as a fan of short stories I ended up really enjoying it. It felt like reading a series of love letters to Paris, and to her family. I’ve only been to Paris once, and for a very short amount of time, so it was strange and delightful to realize this book somehow made me nostalgic.
The stories about cancer hit a particular nerve for me, Grief and Rose both made me intensely emotional. The food chapters made me hungry. Anna’s stories made me remember being young and obsessed with Harry Potter. Overall this was a sweet, comforting, unusual but relatable little book and I’m happier for having read it.
May 20, 2016
This memoir follows the romance author Eloisa James and her family through their year in Paris. After James has beaten breast cancer the family decides they need a dramatic change and move from the US for a year. There is much warmth and humor as well as discussion of art, museums, shopping, food, and lots of chocolate.
This is really about her post cancer journey within the city of Paris while growing closer to her family. She discovers that time is limited and you should do and see what you desire while you can.
A line that particularly moved me was after she wrote of a close friend's death from cancer when she simply states, "It is beautiful here. You must come before you die."
I liked this enough that I might even check out one of her "bodice-ripping" romances.
This is really about her post cancer journey within the city of Paris while growing closer to her family. She discovers that time is limited and you should do and see what you desire while you can.
A line that particularly moved me was after she wrote of a close friend's death from cancer when she simply states, "It is beautiful here. You must come before you die."
I liked this enough that I might even check out one of her "bodice-ripping" romances.
November 2, 2016
I fell in LOVE with Paris in Love!!!!! The marvelous little essays were interspersed with vignettes (almost like short facebook entries). But through these stories you get a glimpse into Eloisa James Italian husband, teenage son, saucy daughter (and her Italian frienemy), and other charming characters. This was a quick read, and one of my favorites of 2012! Just a delight from start to finish!
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