I liked this book a lot, but my liking is for complicated reasons. Although I expected to like it for a reason that I have enjoyed, for instance, the books of Jenny Colgan—because the main character realized something about herself that made her elect to drastically change her lifestyle—that aspect of it wasn't nearly as powerful as it could have been.
What I loved is the gradual exploration throughout the text of Paris as a city and of the French as a culture, a people, and a lifestyle. The author really got it that the daily priorities in France are completely different from those in America, that it's a slower, more reflective, less frenetic, more contemplative lifestyle, valuing family, friends, and physical experiences such as cooking, eating, walking, sleeping, over career, business, and industriousness. There is a moment when the character, Genevieve, gets it too, when Killian invites her to go somewhere after they have been out and about for a while, and her first impulse is to say "I should get back," and then she realizes: For what reason am I rushing back? I have no deadline, the work will still be there, I can be solitary later, this is an experience that I should embrace, and she does. It was in these moments that the book had weight.
The other thing that I enjoyed was learning more about the unusual vocation of locksmith, especially as expressed in a city as old as Paris, where the locks can vary from ancient to modern, and the duties of the locksmith include repairing and refreshing the old locks, as well as installing new ones. It gave a glimpse into buildings with architectural details beautifully described by the author, and that loving attention to detail was also a big feature for me.
The story itself was eclipsed by these other elements. Genevieve is a fairly typical person whose emotions have been locked up (yes, there is a lot of symbolism of this kind, some of it overwhelmingly obvious or even trite) by various childhood and adult events or traumas, who needs to work them out and open herself up to life (wince with the lock-and-key metaphors again!). Likewise, there is a mystery she desires to solve about her mother's past, which no one will openly reveal to her, so she must go digging through the detritus of her mother's past amongst the things left by her Uncle Dave (the deceased locksmith from whom she is taking over the business) and Aunt Pasquale (who suffers from Alzheimer's and is therefore an unreliable witness). The "mystery" unfortunately becomes all too clear to the reader long before Genevieve herself suspects, which I found a bit unbelievable. And finally, as I have objected to in other reviews, this author had a bit of that compulsion to wrap things up tidily at the end that I sometimes find grating. This wasn't as bad as some, but there were things that could have been let lie while closure was still provided.
Over all, this book amply satisfied my Paris fixation, and was a pleasant enough story along with it that it proved to be an enjoyable read.