Reading Roundup: Paris and Paraphernalia

Illustrations by Lizzy Stewart for The Little Pleasures of Paris.

This post features books I read in 2018, 2019, and 2021, but I’m really pleased with how well they resonate with one another. Two illustrated memoirs by American women about a childhood year spent in Paris, focusing on small objects and little moments; and a more recent book by one of those women about her favorite “little pleasures” to partake of in Paris.

An Extraordinary Theory of Objects: A Memoir of an Outsider in Paris by Stephanie LaCava
My rating: 2 of 5 stars

This is a beautiful-looking little book--illustrated, deckle-edged--and I picked it up at Bookmarc (Marc Jacobs' NYC bookstore) in the early 2010s because it had good buzz among the stylish NYC lit-girls who I followed on Twitter and desperately wanted to be like. Furthermore, I thought I knew something about being "an outsider in Paris" (I had spent a lonely study-abroad semester there in 2007) and about using aesthetics and beauty to shore up a fragile teenage sense of self.

Unfortunately, An Extraordinary Theory of Objects is more style than substance. It is the opposite of a clear-eyed and unflinching memoir. Stephanie LaCava's teenage troubles never come into focus--they seem to involve some combination of depression, disordered eating, and OCD, but she never lists a diagnosis or provides even a cursory explanation of how she recovered into a functional adult. She romanticizes the beautiful things she collects and the precious moments of kindness that people show her, which is sweet; more worryingly, though, she still seems to romanticize her exquisite misery and waiflike thinness as she roamed the Paris suburbs in '90s slip dresses. She seems to believe that her emotional sensitivity makes her unique, "strange," alien; she doesn't seem to realize that just about every private-school class has a student or two who romanticizes their suffering and haunts flea markets. Even her connection to the "objects" doesn't come through as strongly as it might--a good portion of the book consists of factual footnotes about beetles, or pearls, or violets, rather than LaCava's personal thoughts or feelings about these items.

Postmark Paris by Leslie Jonath
My rating: 3 of 5 stars

Sweet, presumably autobiographical vignettes (the protagonist’s name is “Leslie”) from the perspective of a 9-year-old American girl whose family spends a happy year living in Paris’ 5th arrondissement. Accompanying each anecdote is an illustration of a stamp from the girl’s collection; the little stories and little images add up to a reminder to appreciate life’s little moments of beauty and wonder. When it comes to evocations of Paris’ charms by Leslie Jonath, I prefer her more recent, less personal The Little Pleasures of Paris , but Postmark Paris proves that she has loved the City of Light long and sincerely.

The Little Pleasures of Paris by Leslie Jonath
My rating: 4 of 5 stars

My friends know that I’m a Francophile who studied for a semester in Paris, so when they are planning Paris trips, they sometimes come to me for advice. I’m not always sure what to tell them, however: they’re spending all this money to go there and probably want to visit museums and historic sites, but I often just want to say “Wander around and hang out.” To me, that’s the best way to understand what makes Paris special and why so many people around the world adore it—call it joie de vivre or l’art de vivre, but whatever you call it, it isn’t often found at “tourist attractions.”

So the lovely thing about Leslie Jonath’s The Little Pleasures of Paris is that it shares my philosophy. While it does mention some of Paris’ historical landmarks (the stained glass of Sainte-Chappelle, the clocks of Musée d’Orsay), it also mentions foods to try, quaint streets to stroll, activities to do with children, ways that Parisians celebrate the holidays and the seasons, and the best Métro line (line 6!). Lizzy Stewart’s colorful illustrations remind me of the Paris I fell in love with as a child, before I’d even been there—the Paris of Madeline and Funny Face. Still, the author has a modern sense of humor at times: the page about the Louvre notes the pleasure of fighting your way through hordes of selfie-taking tourists to catch a glimpse of the Mona Lisa!

This is a charming coffee-table book, but it also solves my quandary of what to say when asked for Paris travel advice. I’m lending my copy to a friend who’s about to visit Paris for the first time—marked up with sticky notes to indicate all the little pleasures she should indulge in while she’s there.