In which fifty-two-year-old author Suzy Gershman is unexpectedly widowed and moves to Paris. I'm not sure what it is about these authors who move to Paris - other than the fact that it is Paris - but this is the second book I've read...and not liked. Note to self: it's probably time to stop reading this genre. (Paris, I Love You but You're Bringing Me Down was the first.)
Admittedly, a large part of the problem was that I really did not like Gershman. It bothered me that she up and moved to Paris and left her 20-year-old college student student son to cope on his own only weeks after his father died; it bothered me that six months after her husband died she took up with a married man 20 years her elder; it bothered me that she fretted about money while lunching at the Ritz and the Georges V (constantly reminding her readers that she is not a woman of independent means!),;and it bothered me that she could not go a single chapter without including a reference to the books she wrote that evidently made her famous (the Born to Shop series...I'd never heard of it before). Also the name dropping nearly put me over the edge.
In the plus column, she writes about Paris as only one who loves the city can and the book is a very quick read. Also, it's possible that I'm just jealous of people who can drop everything and move to Paris...but I don't think that's it.
(I just looked her up and discovered she died last summer of cancer. Now I feel a little bad. But trust me: the name dropping was over-the-top.)
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