100 Books Like Life in Paris

This guide to Paris is a one-of-a-kind, thoroughly personal—almost private—address book that takes in such fanciful themes as acupuncturists, beekeepers, Bouquinistes, cabarets, fancy dress, Esperanto, and rose gardens.

It provides a vision of Paris that is so idiosyncratic, so fully lived, so persuasive and contagious, so far from cliché, pandering, and pretention, that I discover the city anew each time I browse its beautiful, letterpress printed pages. I think I first met Ivan and Benoît, the founders of Astier de Villatte, when I interviewed them for the first edition of Makers Paris, and since then, they have become my compass for living a bold life of beauty, fun, and freedom.

The much-loved English bookshop Shakespeare and Company can at times feel like a victim of its own success (every so often I try and imagine solutions as if I were trying to save Venice!), but the place remains a refuge for writers and readers and a true beacon of bohemian values.

In my first Makers book, owner Sylvia remembers her father George describing Paris: “where poetry is part of life; where men are poets and life is a poem.” And now the bookshop has published its own collection of poems about Paris, illustrated with beautiful line drawings by the Italian illustrator Matteo Pericoli.

Alongside verses by Rimbaud, Gregory Corso, or Lawrence Ferlinghetti, Pericoli imagines the views from windows of poets who, at one time or another, made their homes here, like Gertrude Stein and Alice B. Toklas or Charles Baudelaire, or indeed Shakespeare and Company’s own beautiful view across the… show more.

Paris has an incredibly vibrant food scene, and some of that energy is generated by a shapeshifting community of expat chefs and foodies. Hugh Corcoran, a Belfast born writer and cook, spent the most part of the last decade living and working in France, in Paris and beyond.

This lovely book is a collection of vignettes from his travels, simply and honestly written, remembering people he met along the way and the meals they shared. Each story ends with a recipe, including some French classics like roast chicken, gratin dauphinois, or carottes râpées.

If the book’s tone is gentle, it’s actually an urgent call to action, as the epigraph confirms: “Friends and neighbors, wet your mouths, for after death you won’t touch another drop.”

This fascinating book plunges the reader into the avant-garde effervescence of the Roaring Twenties in Paris, presenting serious historical scholarship about the era alongside the author’s own take on classic cocktails like the Sazerac or the Highball. It provides, to quote the author Franck Audoux (in my book Makers Paris), “a kind of cultural snapshot of an era, to show how the cocktail, like jazz or the Charleston, participated in the reconstruction of a new society after the carnage of the First World War”.

One of the founders of the game-changing restaurant Le Châteaubriand, Franck is a pillar of the indie food and drinks scene here. This book is the fertile soil from which his current project, Cravan, grows. Named after Oscar Wilde’s nephew, the poet and boxer Arthur Cravan, Cravan is a contemporary cocktail bar rooted in the “French Modern.” 

Who doesn't want to be Posey Parker? She’s smart, she eats loads, and never gets tubby. She’s always gorgeous, though she’s not at all arrogant about it. Give Posey a compliment or a sandwich; she’ll take the sandwich every time.

On the negative side, she lives in the 1920s with the world still reeling from the first world war, and women’s rights decidedly sketchy. Also, she’s trapped on the Night Train to Paris with a sense of impending doom. (I totally identify with that, having traveled on the Glasgow to London sleeper.)

L.B. Hatheway has crafted a book that offers the best kind of mystery and a great understanding of the time's history, and Clare Wille voices it flawlessly. 

I have always wanted to dress like a Parisienne and there is no greater inspiration than Karl Lagerfeld’s in-house model.

He chose the French supermodel, designer, and perfumer as his muse because she bore an uncanny resemblance to Coco Chanel. This book inspired me to write my book and taught me that for the French, less is more. 

Honestly, I could recommend all of Bonnie Dee’s back catalog, but this one in particular has always stuck with me. I think what I love most is that the setup seems like a standard Beauty and the Beast type tale, but instead, a thoughtful (and incredibly hot!) novel that doesn’t shy away from the fact that one of the characters is far from traditionally handsome, but embraces it.

I really cheered him on as he began to see himself in a new light, the way the man who loves him sees him.   

Jeremy had a career as a crime reporter that had recently turned from exciting to dangerous. He flew to Paris with little money and nowhere to go. Serendipity led him to Shakespeare and Company, a bookstore along the Seine with a perfect view of Notre Dame. 

The owner, George, allowed authors to reside for free at the store, resulting in a continuous rotation of vagabonds searching for purpose, inspiration, or just a bed among the bookshelves. 

I loved meeting this cast of eccentric writers from around the world, finding camaraderie at this literary haven. It reminded me how quickly travelers can bond over a shared experience, and how sometimes a place can be the most interesting and vivid character of them all.

Vreeland begins by telling readers: “The first thing to do is to arrange to be born in Paris. After that, everything follows quite naturally.” And that declaration sets the tone for this delightful, witty monologue, as told to Paris Review editor George Plimpton and originally published in 1984. D.V. makes you laugh out loud, and long for Paris, beauty, and really, really good lingerie.

I read Tropic of Cancer at the beginning of my writing career, soon after I’d begun living on my own for the first time. Miller’s life as a Brooklyn boy in Paris, struggling to survive and to write, seemed similar in so many ways to my own life in Manhattan. I’ve since read Tropic of Cancer multiple times and have portions memorized. I went through a phase where everything I wrote came out sounding like Henry Miller—that’s how taken I was by his voice. Miller taught me that it’s possible to write a great book that’s voice-driven rather than plot-driven.