Paris to the Moon

For anyone who loves reading the daily-life-of-a-foreigner-transplanted books, this one is a superior treat. For a start, Gopnik writes really well, both elegantly and with great humour. He was the Paris correspondent for New Yorker magazine for the five years covered in this book. What sets it apart is his ability to weigh and measure his own prejudices and cultural biases, and, whilst not always wholeheartedly agreeing with the Parisian approach and attitude, he never condemns.
The essays appeared originally in "New Yorker", so if you are a fan you will be pleased to see them in collected form. If, like me, you have never read them before the insightful observations and intelligent writing will capture you. The book seems to be ordered show more chrnologically, and at the end of each section is a 'Christmas diary' with observations and 'lessons learned' from the previous year.

I was particularly attracted to this book because of the promise of some insight into living life in an adopted city with a young child. This promise is delivered and provides a delightfully different insight than that offered by a Mayle or Mayes (well off later-life part-time emigres). show less

There are travel memoirs that become classics. While they take place at a particular time, they either manage to grasp what is eternal about a place or they perfectly capture a lost version of the place they're writing about. Down and Out in Paris and London captures the eternal of being poor in a great place, I think, and A Moveable Feast is a snapshot of a great time that is gone and still mourned.

Adam Gopnik's account of a American family living in Paris for five years falls into a second category; a book that is a snapshot of a time and a place, but one that is rapidly fading and which will be forgotten in a few more years. It's a very specific memoir, full of a young father's infatuation with his son, and it's the story of a show more specific family (well-to-do New Yorkers writing for The New Yorker) in a specific place (Paris, circa 1995).

Which is not to say that this is not a highly readable book. It is. But I suspect that my enjoyment of it is based on the similarities of our experiences. I lived in Paris for a year and we started our family in a European country and watched our children being not altogether American. So much of what I liked about it were the parts where our experiences overlapped. Gopnik interviewed Bernard-Henri Levy; I had a crush on Levy when I lived in Paris (I was taken with the idea that a philosopher could be a sex-symbol). Gopnik's wife had their second child in Paris; I had my two children in Munich, and found Gopnik's experience to be similar to my own. My time in Paris occurred just a few years before Gopnik's, so that I recognized his version of Paris more readily than I do Paris of today.

There are pieces of this book that are very, very good. The chapter on the trial and surrounding media storm of a French public official charged with war crimes was excellent and a brief segment on the French interviewee's astonishment over being called by fact-checkers was funny and thought-provoking.

There is simply a lot of this book that is specific to Gopnik's own experiences and which doesn't expand to universality. His search for an American-style place to work out, for example, or the long story of his son's first crush at age five. And while the reader gets an painstaking account of the bedtime story Gopnik told his son, complete with his son's trenchant commentary, there is almost nothing about his wife or how the move affected their relationship.

I loved this book, but I think that I loved it because of the memories it brought back, more than for the writing itself. show less

Gopnik's meditations on France are insightful, funny, and humanistic. He peels away layers of shiny French surfaces to reveal an ethos both alien and attractive to our Americanisms. Features an outstanding story of a beloved local restaurant resisting conglomeration, as well as a striking analysis of the antipodes of French thought: astute observation of the particular versus methodical classification of the abstract.

Articulate reflective compilation of articles written over five years from Pairs for the New Yorker Magazine. Gopnik brings an underlying warmth and affection for Parians, and adds a lovely self-awareness, whic allows him to discourse knowledgeably on the differences between life in New York and Paris. This was not a book to be gulped down in one sitting, but rather enjoyed as if each chapter (article) were a different course, or even meal. Enjoyed the discussion of couture fashion shows, soccer, a bureaucrat on trial for war crimes, and efforts to 'save' a favorite restaurant. 'The Rookie' was a personal favorite.

Paris To the Moon isn't exactly a quick, easy read, as the stories it collects were originally printed as essays in The New Yorker and are wonderfully dense. Adam Gopnik moved with his wife to Paris shortly after their son was born, and stayed for the next five years, through the turn of the century and the birth of their daughter. Each chapter addresses its own topic, from finding an apartment to French politics, to high couture, to raising a son in a culture and surroundings in which his own parents are not entirely comfortable themselves.

This book captivated me, and is partially responsible for rekindling my own urge to spend some serious time not only in the City of Lights, but in the rest of France. Gopnik is witty and eloquent and show more captures perfectly the charm that I imagine Paris to have, all while patiently exploring and navigating the many differences between his native culture and that of his adopted city. show less

I enjoy reading anything written by Adam Gopnik for his beautiful prose style in addition to the interesting content of his many essays. This book is the next best thing to actually going to Paris made even better by Adam Gopnik.

Adam Gopnik has a way with language, but most of this book failed to work for me. The most successful passages deal with the mundane and the private aspects of their lives changed by their new environment. The author's son's experiences stand out in this respect, reflecting the burden of childhood as well as that of the expatriate.

The author often will use french words and vocabulary without explanation for the English reader - given that it's written for an American audience it's an odd choice. Sometime's it can be puzzled out from context, but often I was left just unable to imagine what his family is experiencing. (example: "gigot d'agneau avec flageolets" - something you eat, that's as far as I can get).