Between the covers

A summer reading list with a French twist

Bonjour mes amis,

So yesterday morning, my only pair of glasses broke. This was pretty ironic after last week’s essay, and now I’m wandering about like Mr. Magoo. Hopefully the new prescription shades will be ready soon; otherwise, I’m in deep merde.

In this post, I’m offering something lighter — a small stack of French-flavored books that will hopefully distract from the heat and that gnawing feeling that everyone is at the beach except for you.

Happy reading!

Sacha

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We live in the middle of the 6th, one of the busiest arrondissements in Paris. A mere two blocks from our quiet street, it’s a circus of tourists walking three abreast on narrow sidewalks, delivery trucks causing all manner of chaos, and daredevil bicyclists careening around on a hope and a prayer.

Calm, it is not.

Plus, with another heatwave bearing down on us and my already somewhat high-strung disposition, my cortisol level is at code red by 8 am.

One way I cope, especially in the heat, is to get up early, before the temperature crushes my will to do anything, and head either to the gym or somewhere green.

Fontaine Médicis in the Jardin du Luxembourg

The other morning, I strolled over to the Jardin du Luxembourg to have coffee with a friend. We met at a Paris writing retreat in 2024 and are now neighbors. What are the chances?

We sat at La Terrasse de Madame, a café with a view of the large pond in the center of the garden and plenty of shade for keeping cool. It’s the sweetest little spot and I was amazed I’d never been before.

Our conversation ping-ponged between the craft of writing, travel, never-ending heatwaves, and the Wild West of book publishing.

I had just finished The Things We Never Say by Elizabeth Strout to get ready for Natalie Serber’s book group. I’m a huge fan of Strout, but this book was so depressing. Beautiful writing as always, but not what I needed right now.

Next up on my nightstand is My Year in Paris with Gertrude Stein by Deborah Levy, which I picked up at the Red Wheelbarrow, my favorite Anglophone bookstore in Paris.

I’ve been reading books about France since my 20s when my mother introduced me to Anaïs Nin and Edmund White’s The Flâneur.

And no wonder Paris, land of novelty and distraction, is the great city of the flâneur — that aimless stroller who loses himself in the crowd, who has no destination and goes wherever caprice or curiosity directs his or her steps.

White’s evocative prose and his ability to capture Paris in the late 1980s and ’90s left an indelible mark on me. The Guardian describes it as “an artfully aimless pleasure cruise around Paris.” He brilliantly overlays different eras including the Paris of Josephine Baker, Baudelaire, Colette, and literary salons, as well as gay and African-American Paris.

When I first visited Paris at 26, I wandered about with my brother and we got terribly lost trying (and failing) to walk to the Eiffel Tower. Never mind that we were in the Latin Quarter with no map and no working knowledge of French, nor the nerve to ask for directions.

Hours later, and no closer to our destination, I consoled myself with a soggy pain au chocolat, knowing it would make a good story one day. And yes, I still love flâneuring all over the city.

So friends, we are now in the thick of yet another heatwave—not just in France but in many parts of the U.S. and Europe as well. If you’re like me and simply want to collapse on the sofa with the curtains drawn and a good book, here are some more Paris- and France-centric works of nonfiction I’ve enjoyed over the decades.

• From Paris to the Moon by Adam Gopnik. I read this a hundred years ago but it still stands up as a smart, atmospheric tale of an American family in Paris. Well-written and insightful.

• Me Talk Pretty One Day by David Sedaris. A must-read about living in Paris and Normandy, including the famous laugh-out-loud title essay, which you can read here.

• A Moveable Feast by Ernest Hemingway. The ur-Paris expat memoir by the great writer himself. From Bookshop.org: “It is an elegy to a remarkable group of expatriates and a testament to the risks and rewards of the writerly life.”

• The French Ingredient by Jane Bertch. A charming, clear-eyed account of building a life and business in Paris, full of warmth, wit, and the kind of hard-won insight only an outsider-turned-insider can offer. It is backordered at Bookshop.org, which is why I linked to Amazon. If you are in Paris, look for it at the Red Wheelbarrow or Shakespeare & Company.

• My Life in France by Julia Child with Alex Prud’homme. The remarkable story of Julia Child who (some may not know) started out as the wife of a diplomat in Paris, and went on to become the iconic chef, author, and TV personality we know today.

• On Rue Tatin by Susan Herrmann Loomis . One of the first books I read about life in France, this memoir by the acclaimed cookbook author and cooking teacher is about building a life in Normandy, where an old house, a local market, and the daily rituals of French cooking become her way into belonging.

• Demystifying the French by Janet Hulstrand. A wise, witty, and deeply practical guide to navigating French culture, with just the right blend of affection, clarity, and been-there bewilderment.

• The Sweet Life in Paris by David Lebovitz. From shopkeepers who work so hard not to sell you anything to the etiquette of working the right way around a cheese plate, here is Lebovitz’s story of how he fell in love with Paris.

• Moveable Feasts by Chris Newens. A culinary exploration of Paris’s 20 arrondissements and a dish that represents each one. Discover the stories and history behind such dishes as Congolese catfish, Tartiflette, and Oeuf Mayonnaise while experiencing the city’s ever-changing food culture.

• The Bonjour Effect by Jean-Benoît Nadeau and Julie Barlow. Perplexed by how the French communicate? In this clever book, the authors explain why, culturally and historically, conversation with the French is not about communicating or being nice. It’s about being interesting.

Tell me—what are you reading this summer?

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P.S. The most recent Good Vintage Salon was one of my favorites yet. Our small but mighty group chatted all about downsizing, apartment and house hunting, budgeting, loneliness, and the real-life logistics of building a life in France.

Paid subscribers get access to salons as well as The Paris Edit, my Moving to France Guide, archives, and the first word on future Paris gatherings, likely this fall. Upgrade anytime here.