The Little Paris Bookshop by Nina George is one of those books you feel are going to be a hit. For anyone who is a book lover, books about bookshops spark at a minimum your curiosity if not a deep interest. If you add to that a love for Paris and all Parisian things, then I’m telling you there is no reason for me not to have absolutely loved this book. Unfortunately, I didn’t.
The book tells us the story of lovely Monsieur Perdu who owns a floating bookshop on the Seine, Literary Apothecary, and “prescribes” books to people according to their problems.
“You see, I sell books like medicine. There are books that are suitable for a million people, others only for a hundred. There are even medicines — sorry, books — that were written for one person only.”
Monsieur Perdu, himself, is a wounded soul. He had his heart broken some twenty years earlier by the love of his life, Manon, when she left him without a word. It turns out that Manon did leave him a word, actually, a letter that Monsieur Perdu eventually opens and reads it. From then on the book takes a different turn. Together with a writer and another friend they pick up along the way, Perdu decides to take a trip.
This is about the time the book lost me. It was no longer about the bookshop or about Paris. It turned into long descriptions of places (many absolutely marvelous) and Perdu’s journey through grief. I found myself flipping through the pages to get to the end of the book. It’s not that this is a bad book, or poorly written. It just wasn’t what I expected to be.
I received this book for free from Blogging for Books in exchange for my honest review.