Review: The Paris Wife by Paula McLain

So I know I'm not meant to be talking about this yet. The Paris Wife was the January pick for our online book club and it would have made more sense for me to discuss it here afterwards, otherwise the other eleven people will be subjected to my over-emotional and hysterical ramblings (you'll see) twice. That said, I really want to talk about it right now, having finished the book approximately twelve seconds ago, so I'll just have to try and come up with something intelligent to say for the 'meeting.'

Plot summary: Chicago, 1920: Hadley Richardson is a shy twenty-eight-year-old who has all but given up on love and happiness when she meets Ernest Hemingway and is captivated by his energy, intensity and burning ambition. After a whirlwind courtship and wedding, the pair set sail for France. But glamorous Jazz Age Paris, full of artists and writers, fuelled by alcohol and gossip, is no place for family life and fidelity. Ernest and Hadley's marriage begins to founder, and the birth of a beloved son only drives them further apart. Then, at last, Ernest's ferocious literary endeavours bring him recognition - not least from a woman intent on making him her own.

Let me start by saying that there is absolutely no chance of any kind of objectivity in this review. I hate Ernest Hemingway and always have. I don't like his works, I don't like his attitude and I don't like his character. I've read a biography and a half, plus two of his novels and his every existence irritates me. If I could, I'd ban every single one of his novels... except he'd probably love the notoriety. The Paris Wife, however, forced me to look at exactly why I hate him so much. This isn't going to make for pretty reading.

My usual take on these novels is to replace the main characters names with standard non-famous-person names to see if the actual story and prose still hold up on their own. To the extent that that was possible here, it does seem to. It's written very well, providing a nice balance of 1930s Parisian atmosphere with dialogue and plot. The dialogue isn't stilted and I didn't have a problem keeping the many characters straight. If I were to replace 'Hadley' and 'Ernest' with 'Richard' and 'Carol,' I feel that it would still be an interesting book.

My only issue with the book itself was that every so often the narrative will change over to Hemingway's point of view. It's only for two pages or so, but it doesn't seem to be evenly spaced out and in my view it's not necessary. It reads as though those passages were shoved in later in an attempt to make the character seem less unlikeable. They're all about how confused he is and how guilty he feels, etc etc. I'm sorry but they're just not plausible. I've read enough about him and known someone enough like him to fully accept understand that they don't think like that. It's not in their nature.

He's real though. Paula McLain has done a truly excellent job in bringing Ernest Hemingway to life. Obviously we'll never meet him and therefore can't give her points for accuracy, but this version of him fits with everything I've read and seems to just jump off the page.

The problem with his lifelikeness (hey, that's a word - or it is while I'm frantically typing like a madwoman anyway), is that I was so damned furious when I'd finished the book. He walks over everybody, screws over his friends and gets annoyed when they object, and generally treats everybody like they should cater to his every whim. He seems to genuinely believe that he should be held to a better standard than everybody around him, regardless of how much they've gone out of their way to help him.

I had someone just like that in my personal life for a while and so this book got to me quite strongly. I was angry and upset with Hemingway for his behaviour, with Hadley for not being stronger and with myself for putting up with it. Sometimes it's hard to separate a book from your own experiences and feelings, but they can bring a semblance of clarity to what had previously confused you. In addition, it shows how beautifully this book is written that it brought my own experiences to the fore.

I'm not sure that Hadley herself was quite as fleshed out as she seemed a little flat and her behaviour was inconsistent. She was ridiculously stoic for a while to an extent that irritated me greatly -  of course he's going to move his Mistress into the house if you don't tell him that you object! It's fucking Hemingway. Instead she decides to be all martyred, but then goes mental and slaps him... and then goes back to martyrdom. Everyone reacts differently to these things, but I felt that her behaviour could have been smoothed out a little.

I'd actually like to sit here and rant about her complete lack of backbone - she lets Hemingway do far too much to her because she's scared she'll lose him if she complains. It really was profoundly irritating. Unfortunately I don't feel that I can fairly do that as I'm not sure how much of it was known to be actually true in real life, and it would hardly be the author's fault for accurately recreating it.

This book surprised me. I'd owned it since July 2012 and never once seriously considered opening it. In fact, I probably still wouldn't have, if it weren't for Bex and her book club. Personal feelings about Hemingway aside, this is a wonderful book. I knew the story already and it still didn't put me off from enjoying the real characters, the beautiful descriptions and somewhat moving story.

Read a much more objective review of The Paris Wife at Write Meg!

Review: The Perfume Collector by Kathleen Tessaro AND GIVEAWAY

Okay, so this is the fifth book in a row I've read that features somebody called Grace. Go see Delirium, Jane Eyre, Wide Sargasso Sea and The Last Runaway - this is actually getting slightly strange. I'm going to be talking about 'Grace' in my sleep and Lewis is going to think I'm having an affair with someone called Grace, who would have to be a fictional character because, ironically, I don't know anybody called Grace. And I've put too much thought into this.

Plot summary: One letter will turn newly-married Grace Munroe’s life upside down:

‘Our firm is handling the estate of the deceased Mrs Eva D’Orsey and it is our duty to inform you that you are named as the chief beneficiary in her will. We request your presence at our offices at your earliest convenience, so that we may go through the details of your inheritance.’

There is only one problem. Grace has never heard of Eva D’Orsey.

So begins a journey which leads Grace through the streets of Paris and into the seductive world of perfumers and their muses. An abandoned perfume shop on the Left Bank will lead her to unravel the heartbreaking story of her mysterious benefactor, an extraordinary woman who bewitched high society in 1920s New York and Paris.

The Perfume Collector alternates between the story of Grace Munroe in the 1950s as she unravels the story of her mysterious benefactress and a young Eva d'Orsey in the 1920s. It's an interesting technique and it's fascinating to watch Eva's life slowly catch up to where the narrative began.

It starts quite slowly as Eva's backstory begins further back than it really needed to, but it's more than worth it when it gets going. I've always loved perfume and the elegance of the creation process is really brought to life beautifully. We also learn a great deal about scent memories, perfume ingredients and the people who spend their lives chasing after fragrance. There is some glorious imagery in The Perfume Collector, especially when Eva's true history starts to unfold.

She opened her eyes, stared at him, her mind reaching to grasp at a certain feeling... a specific time and place.

'I know that smell! But how do I know it?'

He grinned, delighted. 'Snow.'

'Snow! Of course.' She pressed her wrist to her nose. 'But how can you do that?'

'It's one of my own,' he said proudly. 'It's taken me years to perfect it. You see, nothing is more immediate, more complete than the sense of smell. In an instant, it has the power to transport you. Your olfactory sense connects not to the memory itself, but to the emotion you felt when that memory was made. To recreate a scent memory is one of the most challenging, eloquent pursuits possible. It's poetry, in its most immediate form.'

The history, the story and the scents are all wonderful. It's genuinely a fascinating look at Paris during the Nazi occupation and what cosmetic companies were forced to do to survive. Kathleen Tessaro has also clearly done her research into the perfume business as the level of detail into scent creation is astounding.

However, it does fall a little flat with the characters. Grace herself was very two-dimensional and at times I actually wanted to shake some sense into her. The romance came from nowhere and didn't actually feel strictly necessary to the plot, almost as if it had been added as an afterthought. That said, I would have liked her husband to get his comeuppance a little more as that sub-plot wasn't rounded off all that well. It just kind of... ended.

I think what I'm trying to say is that the story was wonderful and seemed to have been given a lot of energy and effort, but perhaps the more domestic aspects and Grace's character could have benefited from the same.

The Perfume Collector has its faults, but it's stayed with me to the point where I can't pass a perfume counter without thinking of this book, even a fortnight later. It creates an atmosphere of elegance and finery that is simply perfect and I'll definitely be rereading this book in the future.



A huge thank you to Harper Collins for not only sending me a copy of The Perfume Collector to review, but for offering one lucky UK reader the chance to win a copy as well!

Just fill in the RaffleCopter below and I'll e-mail the winner soon. Good luck everybody!

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Review: French Milk by Lucy Knisley (graphic novel)

First off, on a slightly cringe-worthy note... I've finally sold my soul to the God of Social Networking. Yes, it's true - Booking In Heels has a Facebook page. It's here. Obviously I'd love it if people could click that little 'like' button so I don't feel quite so alone, and I'd love to follow back. It's just that I'm starting to be proud of this blog and I want my friends and family to be able to see what I'm up to on here without, God forbid, actually visiting my site. *shuffles shamefully away*

During winter break of her senior year of college, cartoonist Lucy Knisley and her mother embarked on a six-week adventure in Paris to celebrate milestone birthdays: Lucy's twenty-second, and her mother's fiftieth, each angst-inducing for their own reasons. Staying in a small rented apartment with plenty of quirks in the fifth arrondissement, they surprise themselves by falling into their new surroundings with an unexpected ease, content filling their days with visits to the market, cafe, and museums. French Milk tells the story of it all through Lucy's illustrations and photos. Filled with gorgeously charming drawings and photos of the sights, smells, and tastes of the City of Light, French Milk will make anyone pine for a tall glass of it - with a fondant, of course. 

So. Lucy goes to France with her Mum and draws about it. Le fin, as they say. It's basically a travel diary in cartoon-form. There's a huge emphasis on what they ate and bought, with pretty little descriptions and drawings. There's no story or plot to it, it's just a day-to-day diary of their trip.

It's cute. Obviously Lucy can draw well, else the book wouldn't have been published in the first place, but the style's quite endearing. It's obvious that she didn't spend hours pouring over her sketchbook  - this diary is what she doodled in the evening as a way to remember her trip. It gives it a charming, whimsical kind of feeling.

Unfortunately, Lucy is neither charming nor whimsical. God, I wanted to impale her on the Eiffel Tower. She's so whiny - she misses her boyfriend, Paris is too busy, her mother's annoying, it's too cold... I just wanted to throttle her and tell her to shut up and enjoy her time in Paris.

I really enjoyed reading it, but I think I'd have liked it more if it had a little less about the food, and a little more about the sights of Paris. I mean, I know she was drawing for her own sake, not for any future readers, but still.