Paris, with an Alan Furst book in hand
So I just returned from visiting one of my daughters in Paris, where she was finishing up a college quarter abroad. I brought with me a copy of Alan Furst's Red Gold, one of my favorite of his novels, featuring a lead character who lives in the city during the Nazi occupation and spends his days trying to elude the Gestapo. Well, there's more to it, but why reveal more than one needs to?
First, let me say that I'd forgotten how beautiful Paris truly is, even in the gloom of the closing days of winter. The last time I visited the city was several decades ago, as a pimply high-school kid.
I wasn't actually able to start re-reading Red Gold until I was on the plane back home, but I found now that with images of Paris fresh in my mind the book took on a whole new dimension. One afternoon my daughter led me into the Marais, the historically Jewish quarter, where we walked briefly along the Rue des Blancs-Manteaux, or street of the white hats, an obscure street and one I would have no particular interest in finding except that our hunt for an amazing tea shop took us that way. How strange, then, that very early in Red Gold, Furst makes reference to the very street. It was a lovely, brief moment of resonance that brought back to me a clear, almost tactile image of that day with my daughter.
I had intended to read the book during my stay, but I got caught up in another novel--yes, yet another dark Scandinavian detective story--this the latest Inspector Harry Hole thriller by Norwegian-writer Jo Nesbo, entitled The Devil's Star. I loved his two previous books, The Redbreast and Nemesis, but this may be his best, and darkest. I finished reading it over a glass of brandy, before a cheery wood fire in the 17th-century sitting room of the Hotel d'Aubusson, in the Rue Dauphine (a hotel, by the way, that I very much liked). I loved the setting, loved the book.
I'm delighted to see that Nesbo's got a new Harry Hole novel coming out this spring.
Now, if you'll excuse me, I must say au revoir, and return to Furst's Paris....
First, let me say that I'd forgotten how beautiful Paris truly is, even in the gloom of the closing days of winter. The last time I visited the city was several decades ago, as a pimply high-school kid.
I wasn't actually able to start re-reading Red Gold until I was on the plane back home, but I found now that with images of Paris fresh in my mind the book took on a whole new dimension. One afternoon my daughter led me into the Marais, the historically Jewish quarter, where we walked briefly along the Rue des Blancs-Manteaux, or street of the white hats, an obscure street and one I would have no particular interest in finding except that our hunt for an amazing tea shop took us that way. How strange, then, that very early in Red Gold, Furst makes reference to the very street. It was a lovely, brief moment of resonance that brought back to me a clear, almost tactile image of that day with my daughter.
I had intended to read the book during my stay, but I got caught up in another novel--yes, yet another dark Scandinavian detective story--this the latest Inspector Harry Hole thriller by Norwegian-writer Jo Nesbo, entitled The Devil's Star. I loved his two previous books, The Redbreast and Nemesis, but this may be his best, and darkest. I finished reading it over a glass of brandy, before a cheery wood fire in the 17th-century sitting room of the Hotel d'Aubusson, in the Rue Dauphine (a hotel, by the way, that I very much liked). I loved the setting, loved the book.
I'm delighted to see that Nesbo's got a new Harry Hole novel coming out this spring.
Now, if you'll excuse me, I must say au revoir, and return to Furst's Paris....
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