- ISBN13: 9780375758232
- Condition: NEW
- Notes: Brand New from Publisher. No Remainder Mark.
Paris. The name alone conjures images of chestnut-lined boulevards, sidewalk cafés, breathtaking façades around every corner–in short, an exquisite romanticism that has captured the American imagination for as long as there have been Americans.
In 1995, Adam Gopnik, his wife, and their infant son left the familiar comforts and hassles of New York City for the urbane glamour of the City of Light. Gopnik is a longtime New Yorker writer, and the magazine has… More >>
This is a ‘lets make fun of the French’ book. In reality, a similar book can be written by many expatriates in every country, including foreigners living in the US and New York. Mr. Gupnik refuses to accept the differences between the different cultures and seemingly expects the French to behave as if they are funny speaking Americans.
This is a useless book, fake and pompous. Don’t waste your time and money with it.
Rating: 1 / 5
I wish I had read some of the reviews prior to wasting my time on this inaccurate collection of self absorbed drivel. My husband and I were fortunate enough to have lived for two years in the center of Paris. I enjoy reading everything about Paris from Alistair Horne to Patricia Wells and am always looking for new insights. This book was a big disappointment that never captured even the slightest essence of Paris. If Gopnik was a painter his palette would be limited to a tiresome grey.
Rating: 1 / 5
The title for this book should have been VAPID. This book is vapid, like the New Yorker. It’s for people who want to look important being bored. Like New Yorker readers. It takes Gopnik five pages of philosophical musings on how many angels fit on the head of a pin to make a point about cracks in the sidewalk. Every chapter is like that. The most exciting part of the book is when he talks about how boring soccer is. His life is boring. All he can talk about are old pin ball machines in old bars. I’ve got that right here. I guess Paris is a pretty boring place. There is nothing of use in this book.
Rating: 1 / 5
Gopnik’s book, “From Paris to the Moon” showed promise on the shelf at the bookstore. His insight is good for those who have never been to France and will never go. It’s insulting to those of us who do know the language and the culture. He throws bits of French in with no translation in some places, and in others drags out a description (of a meal, for example) with the pointless translation of every item on the table. He shows his ignorance again when he adds “ing” to a French verb (mijoteing) to make it an English verb, and in translating when it’s unnecessary (the Little Prince — everybody knows le Petit Prince). It’s painfully obvious that his experience in Paris was limited and his selfishness is apparent when he speaks of his desire, which only reflects his greed, to bring up his chrildren in an idealized French society, only to drag them back to States later where they speak with an accent (as they do in France, no doubt). They will be their father’s children — mixing the languages and having no command over either. The book is poorly written — was it even edited or proofread by someone other than Gopnik? There are run-on sentences, sentence fragments, a complete lack of subject-verb agreement in places, and then there’s the abominable translation (or lack thereof) in places that’s enough to make you sick.
Rating: 2 / 5
Being stuck on a long plane flight with this book was torture!
Rating: 1 / 5