Books like Paris Trout

House arrest in a hotel, and a man raises a daughter in it.

The Count can give Sofia nothing—no country, no freedom, no future he can guarantee—so he gives her manners, music, attention, and wit, and most of all love. It turns out those are not nothing. They're the inheritance.

I love it for the opposite reason I love McCarthy: same question, no apocalypse, just a man with four walls deciding what to pass on. If you're a parent who feels you have less to give your kids than you'd hoped, this one's a gift.

This selection is a bit of a cheat, given that the novel is about a mother and son (as told by Jack, the 5-year-old boy), but it’s also a moving evocation of maternal resilience under the most appalling circumstances.

I include it because this exceptional story strips bare the fundamental ties between a helpless child and a fiercely resourceful parent. And it’s a great read.

I’ve read it multiple times and also listened to an audiobook. Of course, there are movies, too. I read it on my own out of pure interest as a young woman and then again repeatedly as an adult.

I get wildly involved in Dickens’ plots. (Most of his novels would fulfill my category of children overcoming odds.) David is bereft, having lost his father. He has a loving but weak mother. He experiences beatings, hunger (Oh, I hate hunger), and loneliness as he is tossed about the world. And yet he never loses his humanity, that is, his native kindness.

Somehow, Dickens finds ways to leverage all the pain with comedy. Amazing. I love his strange characters (Peggoty, Mr. Dick) and thrill to his evil characters (Uriah Heep) because Dickens has the gift to often make them comic.  

This book is on most serious writers’ shelves. It’s gorgeous. I loved being in the mind of a child over a century ago, dealing with the Spanish Flu (never believing we would face something as bad as Covid). Here was a lovely mother, all one could wish a mother to be and a child so in love with her that he can hardly comprehend her vulnerability. 

Love and loss are beautifully rendered. Yes, it’s sad, but I was so involved that I pulled for the father to heal from his grief and make way for his son to heal as well. Maxwell didn’t need a villain. The flu was the villain.

At first sight, the title evokes a certain Gallic hauteur, but it does not take long to see that this is simply a foretaste of the rich exploration of the myths of Paris – how the great city has been depicted, imagined, and perceived over time. This is the story of Paris as the capital of modernity, art, fashion, revolution, sex, pleasure, science, and crime. With writers, artists, poets, and visitors as witnesses, and lavishly illustrated, this is a colourful meander through the myths and illusions that have shaped the many images of Paris. 

Whatever the actual realities beneath these multiple faces, asks Higonnet at one point, ‘who could, in our culturally unanchored world, imagine life without this city?’    

How Parisians survived Nazi Occupation—to what extent they resisted or collaborated—has been debated for decades but Sebba looks through a new lens: What did Parisiennes, specifically, do during these years? She was just in time to interview some key women who, having survived concentration camps, went on to live defiantly long lives. Others wouldn’t speak, still traumatised by their experiences. But Sebba has plenty to work with, and the pace at which she pulls it all together propels this book’s sense of importance. One can’t help but feel relieved that these stories have now been told. Some of it is shameful, sure, but you ultimately remember the tales of until-now-unsung heroines, whose fierce love for their city, above even their own welfare, makes them well deserving of a place in Paris history.

This one I listened to. I normally read.

A story of one young woman drafted into Churchill’s overseas spy network, aiding the French Resistance behind enemy lines and working to liberate Nazi-occupied Paris. London, 1941: Due to Rose Teasdale’s fluency in French, she is recruited for the Special Operations Executive, a secret British organization that conducts espionage in Nazi-occupied Europe.

Rose parachutes into France with a new codename: Dragonfly. Posing as a cosmetics saleswoman in Paris, she ferries messages to and from the Resistance. (Of course, typically in fiction,) she falls for a French Resistance fighter who has also dedicated himself to the cause.

Virtually any volume in the BFI Film Classics series—now sadly defunct--is worth recommending. But I’m especially fond of this one, about Jean Renoir’s masterpiece The Rules of the Game (La Règle du Jeu)--my favorite movie along with Kubrick’s 2001 (a very different kind of film!). Perkins explores each of the film’s characters, bringing out the full dimensions of Renoir’s humanism, his grand comic flair, and the bittersweet aura of this great movie completed as World War II was about to engulf Europe.

A funny and moving account of life in occupied Paris by two young sisters, one sensible and studious, the other fun-loving. Written in diary form by each sister in turn, hence the ‘four hands’. Some signs of touching up with hindsight before publication in 1962. There is an English translation, ‘Diary in duo’ (1965) but currently out of print.

I knew I’d love this book even before I read it, as I’ve read almost everything by this author and loved all her work. What a treat to find that she had written a WW2 novel with heroic characters inspired by the SOE agents Diana Rowden and Violette Szabo!

But I particularly loved this book because it brings to life a disturbing event that has haunted me since I visited the French concentration camp Natzweiler-Struthof in 2018.

This camp was primarily for male political prisoners, but in 1944, four women were brought there and put to death by lethal injection and then cremated in the camp’s oven. Diana Rowden was one of those four agents.

It’s a stretch to say I “loved” the fact that this book brought this horrific scene to life through the Diana Rowden character. No, I didn’t “love” it–but it chilled me to the bone and… show more.