Monday, July 1, 2013


I am presently reading Cara Black's Murder in the Bastille, not so much because I like mysteries (and I do), but because I love Paris.  The city is in fact one of the great loves of my life.  And Black has a way of integrating French words and expressions, including slang, that create a totally atmosphère parisienne.  The problem: the descriptions of narrow passages, architecture, and artisans; the mix of grace and grouchiness, modernity and tradition that is Paris, all make me want to jump on a damn avion and walk along the Seine. 

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