Paris in Love

Paris in Love

4.0 82
by Eloisa James

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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

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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.

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Editorial Reviews

For anyone who ever fantasized about leaving it all behind and moving to Paris, Tuscany, or Provence, Eloisa James' new memoir will serve as either a stimulus or a substitute. It's true that this creative writing professor didn't drop everything; she simply took a sabbatical from her Fordham University teaching job, sold her house, and moved to the City of Light. Her year-long stay in one of the world's most beautiful locales was however no frivolous hijinks. James' had just survived a battle with cancer and the death of her mother. Her Paris in Love encompasses both the pleasures of a great metropolis, one family's story of cultural adjustment, and one woman's account of healing.

Edward Ash-Milby

Product Details

Random House Publishing Group
Publication date:
Product dimensions:
5.80(w) x 8.40(h) x 1.00(d)

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One October day we picked up Anna and her new friend Erica after school and walked to the Eiffel Tower. The girls ran ahead, zooming here and there like drunk fighter pilots showing off. Alessandro and I tried to imagine why the French ever planned to demolish the tower after the 1889 World Fair. It’s such a beautiful, sturdy accomplishment; destroying it would be like painting over the Mona Lisa because of her long nose. Smallish bateaux mouches, or tourist boats, moor in the Seine near the foot of the tower, or so my guidebook said. We wandered beneath the lacework iron, the girls skittering and shrieking like seagulls. Down by the water we paid for the cheaper tickets, the kind that come without crepes and champagne. With twenty minutes to wait, we retreated to an ancient carousel next to the river. A plumpy woman sat huddled in her little ticket box, shielded from tourists and the rain, although as yet neither had appeared.
Anna and Erica clambered aboard, but still the operator waited, apparently hoping that two children astride would somehow attract more. The girls sat tensely on their garish horses, their skinny legs a little too long. At ten years old, they’ll soon find themselves too dignified for such childish amusements. But not yet.
Finally the music started and the horses jerked forward. A crowded merry-go-round on a sunny day is a blur of children’s grins and bouncing bottoms. But as the girls disappeared from view, leaving us to watch riderless horses jolt up and down, I realized that an empty merry-go-round on a cloudy day loses that frantic gaiety, the sense that the horses dash toward some joyful finish line.
These horses could have been objets trouvés, discovered on a dustheap and pressed into service. The steed behind Anna’s was missing the lower half of his front leg.
They arched their necks like chargers crossing the Alps on some military crusade, battle-scarred and mournful. Every chip of gold paint dented by a child’s heels stood out, stark and clear. With nowhere to go, and nothing better to do, the operator let the girls go around and around. Finally, though, the music slowed, the last few notes falling disjointedly into the air. I decided there is nothing more melancholy than a French carousel on a rainy day, and wished we had paid for champagne and crepes.
On the Métro heading to school, Anna launched into a wicked impersonation of her enraged English teacher stamping her foot: “Shut zee mouths! Zit down! Little cretins!” The entire subway car was laughing, though Anna remained totally unaware of her captive and captivated audience.

Alessandro brought home a very successful makeup present after the non-flowers: a heart-shaped cheese, sort of a Camembert/Brie, as creamy as butter and twice as delicious. We ate it on crusty bread, with a simple salad of orange peppers, and kiwis for dessert.

I just came across a list Luca created on a scrap of paper. At the top of the sheet he wrote (in cursive) “The End.”
The list is entitled “Several Problems”:
–Can’t write in cursive script
–Can’t write in Italian
–Don’t think I copied the math homework down correctly
–Screwed up on the Italian writing evaluation
–Have French essay for Monday
–Need my books by tomorrow
I feel terrible. What have we done, bringing him here? I have ulcers just reading the list.

My sister mentioned before we left for France that a relative on our mother’s side had published a memoir about living in Paris. I’d never heard of Claude C. Washburn, who was one of my grandmother’s brothers and died before I was born. But today the post brought Pages from the Book of Paris, published in 1910. From what I can gather, Claude was born in Duluth, Minnesota, and moved to Europe after getting his undergraduate degree, living in France and Italy. At some point after his year or so in Paris, he married a woman with the unusual name of Ivé. I’m not very far into the book, but so far he has characterized marriage as “an ignominious institution” and boasted of his “increasing exultation” at remaining a bachelor, steering clear of “the matrimonial rocks, that beset one’s early progress, toward the open sea of recognized bachelordom.” Ivé must have scuppered his vessel before he could steer clear of her rocks.

It started to pour while we were out for dinner, so hard that a white fog hovered above the pavement where the rain was bouncing. We ran all the way home, skittering past Parisians with umbrellas and unprepared tourists using newspapers as cocked hats, the water running down our necks, accompanied by an eight-block-long scream from Anna.

Today I went to my favorite flirtatious butcher and pointed to some sausages. He coiled up seven feet of them and put them on the scale, saying, “The man who is married to you needs to eat lots of sausages.” One problem with my French is that I require time to think before replying, so I ended up back out on the street with far too many sausages and spent the next hour unsuccessfully trying to come up with French ripostes that I will be able to use in my next life. The one in which I am fluently multilingual, and never at a loss for words.

Anna had to stand against the wall twice during one class period yesterday. I asked her why, and she told me that she couldn’t remember, and anyway, she wasn’t as bad as the boys. I can’t wait for parent-teacher conferences. “She’s a bad American” keeps running through my head to the tune of “She’s a very pretty girrrrlll . . .”

My favorite of Paris’s many bridges is Pont Alexandre III, and my favorite of its many statues is not one of those covered with gold, but rather a laughing boy holding a trident and riding a fish. Although just a child, he’s bigger than I am, his huge toes flying off the fish as he twists in midair. But he’s a boy still, with a guileless smile—caught in a moment when he is big enough to ride the back of a fish but not yet acquainted with the world’s sor- rows and deceits. On the far end of Pont Alexandre III, opposite the merboy, sits his twin sister. She seems to have just left the water; she holds fronds of seaweed in one hand, and in the other a large seashell to her ear. Her face is intent as she looks into the distance, listening carefully. I imagine that she is listening for the rushing sound of waves, the sound of home.

Every Peter Pan has his Hook, Harry Potter his Malfoy . . . Anna’s nemesis is Domitilla, the young lady who slapped her on the playground. Domitilla is a talkative Italian with a propensity for hogging the spotlight (which Anna prefers to reserve for herself). “She is devilish,” Anna told me, very seriously, this morning on the way to school.

“We’d like white wine,” Alessandro tells our wine seller, Monsieur Juneau. “What are you eating?” M. Juneau inquires. “Fish.” “What kind of fish?” “Halibut with mint and lemon,” I report. “And on the side?” “Potatoes.” “Small or large?” asks Monsieur. (Who knew that mattered?) “Small.” Our menu rolls off his tongue, sounding like the carte du jour at a three-star Michelin restaurant. “The wine for you,” he says, lovingly plucking down a bottle. At home, the fish is disastrous, but the wine, a revelation.

Luca has caught a virus, and declared pathetically this morning that there was only one thing in the world he could bring himself to eat: Froot Loops. I picked up Anna at school, and we detoured to a small store called the Real McCoy, which caters to homesick American expats. Jackpot! We bought brown sugar, marshmallows, and Froot Loops. Luca ate three bowls.

Ballerinas fall out of the conservatory on our street, eager for a smoke. They cluster around the steps, hip bones jutting. Today, two of them are resplendent in pink tutus, absentmindedly stretching their hamstrings.
I worked hard this afternoon on A Kiss at Midnight, my reimagining of Cinderella. My heroine is flat-chested, poor thing, and part of her transformation involves a pair of “bosom friends” made of wax. These accoutrements are thoroughly historical, and great fun to write about. I gave her so many misadventures that I felt very glad to have gone through with reconstruction surgery, so I don’t have to walk around wearing a wax tata.

Today Alessandro had his first meeting with a Frenchman from the “conversation exchange” website. His name is Florent, and he wants to learn Italian because he bought a plot of land in a tiny village near Lucca, in Tuscany, and he plans to build a house there. But mostly because he is in love with a waitress he met in the village. Apparently she is very, very shy and reserved.

We woke this morning to a sheet of rain pouring into the street, with the kind of concentrated intensity that made me think, drowsily, that our bedroom could be behind a waterfall: a dim and cool cave, our big windows a pane of moving water.

Today Anna was kicked out of her math class and sent to the hallway to “think about herself.” I asked her what she thought about. In lieu of self-examination, she planned a new Sims family, but admitted that she was afraid I would kill her before she got to make it.
A concerned friend has just written from England to inform me that her son’s economics reading included the fact that 650 Parisians are hospitalized every year due to dog poo-related accidents. After living here for almost two months, I am not surprised by this datum. The good news is that we are not (yet) among the fallen.

I walked home at dusk, and everyone I passed was munching a baguette. The pavement looked as if hundreds of lost children had scattered crumbs so they could find their way home again.

Anna’s archrival, Domitilla, just returned from her grandmother’s funeral in Italy. Apparently Domitilla glanced above the coffin and saw Jesus suspended in the air. Anna’s comment: “I was pretty surprised to hear that.” But another classmate, Vincenzo, chimed in and said that he knew about a boy with no legs at all who went to church and prayed, and after seeing a white-bearded man in the air, got up and walked. “So that was better than just seeing Jesus,” Anna pointed out.

My publisher is in town on her way to the Frankfurt Book Fair, and she took me to lunch at Brasserie Lipp, where Simone de Beauvoir and Jean-Paul Sartre used to lunch every day. I had a dark, delicious fish soup and too much wine; we talked about food writing and life before children.

People kiss all the time here: romantically, sadly, sweetly, passionately; in greeting and farewell. They kiss on the banks of the Seine, under bridges, on street corners, in the Métro. 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 over here,” she reported. “It’s ’cause they kiss so much.”

Very early in the morning, the only light comes from tightly closed bakeries. Chairs are upside down on top of the tables, but the smell of baking bread feels like a welcome.

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What People are saying about this

From the Publisher
“Exhilarating and enchanting . . . brims with a casual wisdom about life.”—Chicago Tribune

“In this delightful charm-bracelet of a memoir, [Eloisa James shares] her adventures as an American suddenly immersed in all things French—food, clothes, joie de vivre.”—People

“Enchanting . . . gives the reader a sense of being immersed along with James in Paris for a year . . . you see the rain, taste the food, observe the people.”—USA Today

“This delectable confection, which includes recipes, is more than a visit to a glorious city: it is also a tour of a family, a marriage, and a love that has no borders. Très magnifique!”—Library Journal

“A charming, funny and poignant memoir . . . steeped in Paris and suffused with love.”—Star Tribune

“Charming . . . A romance—for a city, a life, a family, and love itself.”—The Huffington Post

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Paris in Love 4 out of 5 based on 1 ratings. 82 reviews.
SarahJones More than 1 year ago
I am a fan of all things Eloisa, so I was thrilled to discover that she was writing a memoir of her time in Paris, having lived vicariously through her Facebook updates for her year-long adventure. Paris in Love delivers on so many levels--it's filled with lovely little vignettes that paint a gorgeous picture of live in Paris...sometimes uproariously funny, sometimes deeply moving, and there's even a sigh-worthy love story! Most importantly, there's such inspiration to be drawn from the story; after a (thankfully quick) cancer scare, Eloisa and her husband closed up shop in New Jersey and committed to a year in Paris to rediscover themselves, their family and the world. The book is filled with a passion for life that leaves you ready to pack your own bags and follow. Recommended for everyone.
FLORATHEREDMENACE More than 1 year ago
I have been a fan of Eloisa James' writing ever since I discovered her first book, "Potent Pleasures.” Since then I have had the great pleasure of reading each and every one of her novels. When I learned that she had taken a sabbatical from her alter ego life as Mary Bly, tenured professor of Shakespeare at Fordham University, and was posting from Paris on Facebook, I finally took the plunge and joined Facebook myself. At the time very few of us knew why she and her family decided to spend a year in Paris; we were just happy to be invited along on the adventure. Each day’s post was an insight into “La vie Parisienne” told in the exquisite, evocative and descriptive style that is Eloisa James’ signature. In her Memoir “Paris in Love,” I enjoyed reliving and remembering all those posts from that year. More importantly, the longer essays that are interspersed throughout the book are life lessons that expand on the theme of living each day to the fullest. In retrospect, and now knowing more of the facts surrounding the decision to spend a year in Paris, (her mother’s death from breast cancer in 2007 and her own diagnosis of the same disease just two weeks later) we see it as the brilliant decision that it is. It's "Carpe Diem" in its finest form; seizing the day when you are not sure what tomorrow and all the days after will bring. I cannot recommend this book highly enough; I’d give it more that five stars if I could. .
Janga More than 1 year ago
Eloisa James's memoir is, as the title indicates, a book about Paris, or at least about Paris as experienced by one American family during a sabbatical year spent in that city. It is filled with vignettes of the city’s landmarks, museums, and restaurants and of its homeless, its school children, its shop keepers. The memoir, again as suggested by the title, is also about love—love of family, friends, food, and fashion (in both the specific and larger senses of that word), as well as love of the city itself. It is, less obviously, a book about time—time spent, time wasted, and time cherished. I loved every page, and I have been enthusiastically recommending it to friends who share my delight in James's historical romances and to friends who never read romance but appreciate writing that is wise and warm and witty.
52chickadees More than 1 year ago
After Eloisa James had suffered the loss of her Mother to cancer, she was diagnosed with the horrific disease herself. Following a mastectomy and reconstructive surgery, she came to the realization that she should live everyday to the fullest. It was with this awakening, that, among other gutsy undertakings, she starts planning and then executing a year of living in Paris, France with her family. This change of lifestyle included the sale of their home and, ultimately, the purchase of a new abode upon their return to the states. Eloisa and her Husband, Alessandro, each took a year of sabbatical leave from teaching—found an Italian School in Paris that their children; teen-aged Luca and elementary-school wild child; Anna could attend, and secured an older but elegant apartment in a neighborhood ripe with charming shops and interesting people. Among the new friends Alessandro met at the “Conversation Exchange” was a French gentleman named Florent, who wanted to learn Italian so he could woo a young waitress he had met in Tuscany. Alessandro was forever giving him hints on what to say to the lass to help his love life along. While I was reading this memoir,I felt like I was sneaking a peek into someone’s diary, as I would have preferred longer chapters encompassing the adventures and family life, rather than daily entries. I have learned a few things—I know I have had some “hinge moments”….I will NEVER order Calf’s head (with or without the Rooster’s cockscomb) …and I’m wondering why someone didn’t add a length of Velcro to poor Milo’s (the 27 lb. Chihuahua) raincoat?? ( The family would not have had to settle for the unimpressive clear raincoat! )…and chocolate, by any name is just as sweet. You will get some chuckles ( especially where Alessandro’s Mama; Marina, and the portly Milo are concerned) identify with some similar situations, no matter what country you’re in, and Ms. James has kindly included an unofficial guide to some of her unforgettable places in Paris. I have always enjoyed Ms. James’ romance novels and hope to again in the future—In the meantime, I applaud her courage and tenacity. Nancy Narma
Big_ReaderSF More than 1 year ago
I loved the brief stories. Many made me laugh. I wish there had been more, I didn't want her to go home!
janeeyre01 More than 1 year ago
Cannot understand why anyone would give this book anything less than a five star review. NY Times Best selling author Eloisa James AKA Mary Bly. She is an best seller as well as a Professor. Her husband and her took the year off moved the who family to Paris. As a fan of Eloisa I read facebook post while over there that had me rotf. This book is full of her time while in Paris. It is full of funny insights involving her children, pets, and Parisains. I gave it a 5 star because its great. I recommend you read with or without excerpt. If you more details before you buy it you can easily google Paris in Love and it will take you to her page..
Anonymous More than 1 year ago
Try sample first rule of relocating is to live there off season where you can afford to live without buying or selling. Best in unfashionable area where the average citizen lives
Anonymous More than 1 year ago
Je t'adore Paris, ergo, I would love this book? Answer is yea! A year in Paris is a smart sassy look at Paris through the eye if a true romantic, warts and all. And I was sad to see it end. The author and her Italian husband and two children pull up roots from Manhattan and move to Paris. she is dealing with the after effects of mastectomy, and gives herself permission to live, love and write in the City of Light. A memoir to savor.
Anonymous More than 1 year ago
A sweet frothy bonbon of a book -- served up in bite-size observations. Some about life in Paris, some about Paris, some about life. I thought this would be an ideal book to pick up and put down when I was busy, but I found myself caught up in James' sometimes funny and sometime thoughtful insights. Finally I admitted I couldn't read just one and sat down to savor the whole of this charming memoir.
Anonymous More than 1 year ago
If you enjoy traveling & you've either been to Paris or dream of going one day, you must read. While flipping from one event to another with no notice, it was an easy read & made me want to jump in a plane & head to Paris!! A great lazy, weekend read!! Buy it!!
Stone More than 1 year ago
I have never read one of Eloisa's books before and I loved her wit and style of writing. I may read some of her romance books even though romance is not my genre. I didn't expect it to be short Facebook phrases but it was a great story nonetheless!
SharonRedfern More than 1 year ago
What a wonderful book this is! Eloisa James has written a memoir that is at times funny, romantic, and poignant. After a health crisis, she and her husband Allessandro both take a sabbatical from their respective teaching positions and move their family to Paris. The book is chock full of little vignettes of their life in France, adjusting to the cultural differences, finding their way around the city and even bridging the language issue. I particularly like the stories about her feisty daughter, Anna and her run- ins with a fellow classmate who eventually becomes her friend. There were so many interesting parts to the book. My heart felt sad when Ms. James wrote about a small museum of French historical treasures started by a local banker and later imparts the fact that the house was donated to the French government, his son died as a soldier for France and yet the entire family was shipped off to Auschwitz and never returned. The American in me loved that some of the highly touted French cuisine is in fact, not so good, but the description of most of the food is simply amazing. The markets, the stores, the buildings make one want to chuck it all and head to France. The stories of the homeless man living in a tent with two little trees as his enjoyment in life make you appreciate life here. I had a good laugh with the stories about Milo, the family’s part time Chihuahua who lives with Allesandro’s mother in Venice and weighs 27 pounds! Mostly, I enjoyed the everyday stories of a family adjusting to change and loving being together. I read most of this book while writing a complicated grant for the library where I work and I couldn’t wait to get home and start reading and feeling the stress just flow away with every page.
Anonymous More than 1 year ago
Enjoyed the book very much. It was easy reaading and very entertaining.
Anonymous More than 1 year ago
In a word, "lovely." In another word, "wonderful." In yet another word, "enchanting." I could go on and on. This is one of those books that makes you smile as you read it. It also, of course, makes you want to book your trip on the next flight, and you do not want to see it end. It also makes you want to converse with the author, and, yes, you do laugh and cry. One of my favorite things about the book is the information she includes about the little, obscure museums that, no matter how many guidebooks you read, you would still be unaware of at least some of them. If you've ever been, are planning to go, or are just dreaming of going, it's a "must-read"--you'll be so very glad you read it--it'll bring you hours of pleasure while reading it and thereafter. It brought back wonderful memories, and I cannot wait to go again. Thank you, Ms. James for creating something magical--kudos to you!!!
lizziefx More than 1 year ago
I am just fascinated by people who up and move to Paris, and this book did not disappoint. At times I felt just like I was a member of the family. By the end I found myself wanting the family to stay longer in Paris so I could have more stories of their adventures.
MamaLu More than 1 year ago
This is a lighthearted, whimsical look at what happens when you pull up roots and head to a country where you don't speak the language. I have truly enjoyed the anecdotal style of the book and as one who has traveled abroad can appreciate the conundrums and conclusions.
ZaBeth More than 1 year ago
Have always wanted to move to Paris? Hated the idea of moving to Paris? Love to cook, or just love to eat? Are married with children, or without? Love to travel or hate it? Love dogs or detest them? Or if you know someone with a terminal illness or not, you’ll want to read "Paris in Love." Eloisa James, aka Mary Bly, a best-selling romance author and professor of Shakespearean literature details her year of living in Paris with her husband and two children. This memoir, written in Facebook-like tiny essays, chronicles their year living abroad with the same humor often found in her books, but also with a serious beauty that only a lover of books, literature, and language can bring to life on paper. I admit that I both laughed out loud, practically read it aloud to my husband, and cried during this year with James. James suffered her own cancer scare soon after her mother passed from the disease. This is not a memoir that focuses on illness. It is overstuffed with life. And learning to live with the hand that life deals you. You'll close the book understanding what life is REALLY about and hoping that you'll have just a slice of time in your lifetime comprised of what James has experienced. God Bless all who read it, and thank you James for writing a wonderful travel memoir that is so much more! PS: Be sure to go online to get a digital tour of James' favorite museums, restaurants, and shopping as she offers a wonderful selection of websites at the end of book.
GGW More than 1 year ago
I read this book very slowly because I didn't want it to end. It was truly like being there -- without the expense of paying rent.
Anonymous More than 1 year ago
I truly enjoyed this book and would recommend it to people.who are considering traveling to Paris ... or just need a "book vacation" from it all. As a mom who transitioned children the challenges my children went.through. The children in this story made the best out of big challenges and I thank them for sharing.. Ok for letting your mom share. Light, funny and yet encouraged me to rethink some of the way i walk through life! Cheers
bambbles More than 1 year ago
Every once in a while, I am up for a good memoir. When I heard that one of my favorite romance novel authors was publishing one, I immediately added it to my to be read shelf. Paris in Love, Eloisa writes in short paragraph like status and collects them seemingly chronologically to tell the story of her year abroad. There are also longer essays scattered about in a chapter header sort of fashion. The result is a wonderful journey through her and her family's year abroad that takes you out of whatever location you are and sets you down in Paris. I love the things she describes too: the way the horses on the carousel look, the windows in the subway, the laughing statues on the bridge. But what really drives this home for me is the family stories. They bring what could be a fantastical journey into Paris to the level of home cooking and math homework. So it's familiar while bringing you somewhere new. Overall, the book was a light-hearted read that was at times touchingly poignant. I feel like I would read anything that Eloisa wrote, even if it was a limerick on a bar napkin. If you enjoy memoirs with a splash of French travel and family shenanigans (oh! and a rotund dog) definitely check this one out. Who could say no to rotund dogs?
JulieSchroeder More than 1 year ago
An enchanting mosey through James's year in Paris as well as her relationships. By the end, I was touched, a little teary, & at the same time, smiling happily. Much like her blog posts and website entries, her humor and insights are present throughout this work. I hope her romance reader's will follow her into this personal foray--she's an amazing woman! Would that I could be as brave & take off for a year with my family—to anywhere! Kudos to Eloisa for living to the fullest, and then sharing it with us!
dotland101 More than 1 year ago
WONDERFUL.. DELIGHTFUL.. HILARIOUS...C'EST MAGNIFIQUE!! I have a bit of Eloisa James' books in my little library, read a few of them and like them all. This is the only non-romance I've ever read of Eloisa James' books... OMG!! I L-O-V-E IT!! This book is wonderful... delicious, colourful, delightful and soooooooooo hilarious. What a hoot!! I just love Anna, she's so funny without even trying, what an imp! Just love her, she made this book all the more, "alive." Every time I came across her name, never fail, she made me laugh so. This book is wonderful, it jogged and stirred my personal memories of Paris, long forgotten in the past for me. The chocolate (Boy! am I a sucker for good chocolate, and "dark" please), the French cuisine, places and people. This is not a tour guide book, but a wonderful story, an adventure and a dream fulfilled, a daring decision driven by life changing experience to up and moved her (American/Italian) family to live in a foreign country for a year, a love story of a place, Paris and her people of which we heard of but don't really know them or see them up close, here's your chance to tag along with Eloisa James and let her introduce you to Paris, and let Anna entertain you. Oh! Did I mention this is the cheapest way to go to Paris if you don't have a lot of $$$ right now? I have four words for you... go get this book. Vive La France. ;)
C_C_Cedras More than 1 year ago
I feel like we're friends, now! I have read, and in most cases RE-read, all of Eloisa James's novels. I follow her on Twitter and Facebook where she posts snippets of her real life with Alessandro, Luca and Anna (as well as the adorable dachshund, Lucy, who makes her appearance after the family's year-long sabbatical in Paris). So I felt like I had a sense of Eloisa (Mary) even before reading "Paris In Love"; however, her candid, poignant and frequently laugh-out-loud funny retelling of her family's life in France during a transitional year for Eloisa made me feel like I had visited Paris and spent time with a good friend. She shared recipes! I hated for it to end. Isn't that exactly what a memoir should accomplish? I'll add that the format incorporating Facebook posts Eloisa shared during that period should appeal to a social media-savvy audience who might not normally choose a memoir to read.
Anonymous More than 1 year ago
LOVE this book. I don't usually read memoirs, but I'm a fan of everything written by Eloisa James so I took the chance - and absolutely loved it. Her funny, astute voice shines through, and I'm already planning my trip to Paris.
mjmutch More than 1 year ago
Very fun, laugh out loud book. Great guide at back on "where to go".