I Could Never Be Parisian

This was a “Oh hey, that looks interesting” book I picked up at the library recently. It was thin, had an interesting cover, and reminded me a little of The Paris Wife, which is a book I have a very fond place in my heart for. (Sidenote: Isn’t it strange how sometimes we love a book because of the book itself, and sometimes because of how we read it? I read The Paris Wife on a train from Dublin to Galway a couple summers ago and I couldn’t even tell you if it’s a good book or not, because it was just a beautiful memory.) Anyway! Back to the book at hand, which is a collection of short stories about various affairs of the heart and the bedroom in the City of Love. It was…interesting, let’s put it that way.