Rating: 
Summary: Fin de sicle finery
Review: Humor! Pathos! Sports! Food! Shopping (or not)! Wine, women (the heavenly Cressida) and song!Not to mention, just plain life a la Parisienne. This book is a modern sentimental sojourn through Paris which is not only a delight for the senses, but truly captures the essence of the French in all their guises. Having recently fallen completely in love with Paris on a short visit, I was longing for more and this book gave me that "You Are There" feeling I sought. Not only does M. Gopnik bring the Paris of today alive, but in the storyline dealing with all things human- his family, his adopted community, and the costume of French nationality which he endeavors to don- we see a glimpse into the Paris that generation after generation has attempted to make its own. This book was so enjoyable that while reading, I was overcome with the desire to return and have already booked another trip. How lucky is this man to have had 5 years in this most sublime city! Tres charmant! Merci beaucoup, M. Gopnik!
Rating:
Summary: Reflections on the city of light
Review: I enjoyed Gopnik's book, primarily due to the mixture of personal reflection and careful observation that make up these essays. The essays about French cooking were certainly confirming in that the history of cooking is grounded in peasant fare and a return to those roots is a central theme in understanding good cooking foundations. I was most impressed however not by the essays on French government and culture but by the soft personal loving sections of the book on Gopnik's young son. Gopkik and his son swim at the Ritz pool in Paris where they meet two young girls. Gopnik's son's playful love for one of the female children was written so well and so transparently that I was amazed. The boy responds like a puppy, abaze with attraction and energy, swimming fearlessly in the deep end of the pool, like a magnet, a duckling, a male. Gopnik, the wise father, perfectly reads the situation, seeing eros engulf his little child, and supports the situation so that his son fully experiences this first taste of the honey and sting of the beautiful other.The children order expensive hot chocolate every day after swimming, which Gopnik endulges. It is Gopnik's wife upon discovering the VISA card balance that brings reality back into the picture. I would say to Gopnik "Your choices were correct, as you yourself know. The good father allows a child to experience the pull of beauty in the world, aware of the risks, aware of the rewards." I expected thoughtful essays because I have been a New Yorker/Gopnik fan. However, the passages on his relationship with his young son were sublime.
Rating: 
Summary: What's everybody's problem with this book?
Review: I found this book to be perfectly charming. This is a New Yorker writer, whose wife is a filmmaker. Repeat that sentence and ponder its meaning. Some of the readers who have posted review here seem to expect Adam Gopnik to write a book about somebody else's experiences. They wouldn't do this themselves, or have their children do so. They wouldn't expect Hemingway to write about feng shui or Jane Eyre to write about the Peloponnesian Wars. This isn't a history of Paris, or a guide to the subway system. Perhaps Paris brings out self-obsessiveness; perhaps living in any other country does; but I compare Gopnik favorably with Anais Nin and Henry Miller, two other self-obsessed American writers in Paris, and wonderful writers they are, albeit in the 30's. (And by the way I think Gopnik is possibly Canadian; certainly his wife is.) His touch is lighter than Miller's. His affection for his family creates a warmer sort of familiarity than Miller's (which is very winning in its own way). There's a can-you-top-this aura to Henry Miller, whereas Gopnik just marvels at things and shows off his whimsical humor and gift for association. At the same time I find his prose to be more concrete and outwardly directed than Nin's. Not a high bar, that! Gopnik makes it clear from the outset what his and his wife's admittedly enviable plans are for the next five years, for the duration of this book. Buyer beware. I would agree that he takes awhile to hit his stride, but Gopnik's talent for generalizing from common experience is wonderful. The parallel he finds between Americans' attitudes toward sport and the French's toward government officiousness is priceless. He manages to come to an understanding of soccer, a feat that to my mind compares favorably with writing, say, War and Peace. He may wander for a time in fashion circles (were I in Paris with the appropriate press pass I would too), yet he has a talent for bringing the whole crazy scene down to earth. He and his wife are raising a boy and (near the end) giving birth to a girl, and I find nothing wrong, and everything praiseworthy, about giving this side of his life center stage from time to time. The description of pregnancy and childbirth in France is one of the most memorable parts of the story. As you might expect, there is plenty here about food, and about restaurants, and about language, and about globalization, and about New York, too, aka home. As with New Yorker writing at all times, the prose is idiosyncratic, breezy, maybe a little unedited. That's just the way it is. I guess if you like it, you love it, and if you don't you don't.
Rating:
Summary: What's everybody's problem with this book?
Review: I found this book to be perfectly charming. This is a New Yorker writer, whose wife is a filmmaker. Repeat that sentence and ponder its meaning. Some of the readers who have posted review here seem to expect Adam Gopnik to write a book about somebody else's experiences. They wouldn't do this themselves, or have their children do so. They wouldn't expect Hemingway to write about feng shui or Jane Eyre to write about the Peloponnesian Wars. This isn't a history of Paris, or a guide to the subway system. Perhaps Paris brings out self-obsessiveness; perhaps living in any other country does; but I compare Gopnik favorably with Anais Nin and Henry Miller, two other self-obsessed American writers in Paris, and wonderful writers they are, albeit in the 30's. (And by the way I think Gopnik is possibly Canadian; certainly his wife is.) His touch is lighter than Miller's. His affection for his family creates a warmer sort of familiarity than Miller's (which is very winning in its own way). There's a can-you-top-this aura to Henry Miller, whereas Gopnik just marvels at things and shows off his whimsical humor and gift for association. At the same time I find his prose to be more concrete and outwardly directed than Nin's. Not a high bar, that! Gopnik makes it clear from the outset what his and his wife's admittedly enviable plans are for the next five years, for the duration of this book. Buyer beware. I would agree that he takes awhile to hit his stride, but Gopnik's talent for generalizing from common experience is wonderful. The parallel he finds between Americans' attitudes toward sport and the French's toward government officiousness is priceless. He manages to come to an understanding of soccer, a feat that to my mind compares favorably with writing, say, War and Peace. He may wander for a time in fashion circles (were I in Paris with the appropriate press pass I would too), yet he has a talent for bringing the whole crazy scene down to earth. He and his wife are raising a boy and (near the end) giving birth to a girl, and I find nothing wrong, and everything praiseworthy, about giving this side of his life center stage from time to time. The description of pregnancy and childbirth in France is one of the most memorable parts of the story. As you might expect, there is plenty here about food, and about restaurants, and about language, and about globalization, and about New York, too, aka home. As with New Yorker writing at all times, the prose is idiosyncratic, breezy, maybe a little unedited. That's just the way it is. I guess if you like it, you love it, and if you don't you don't.
Rating:
Summary: Pais artfully rendered
Review: I had the great priviledge to visit Paris in December of 2000 which was just a smidgen after New York Time Columnist Adam Gopnik had finished his five year soujourn there...thus the imagery of the book was very fresh: his discussions of the Eiffel Tower , the restaurants, the museums and the Seine activated each and every precious, jewel like memory. If you too have been a visitor to Paris, Gopnik's dispatches work tremendously on this level alone. But beyond simple travelogue, the author invites the reader to experience his obsevations as a husband and new parent, as the intrepid outsider, and as an iconic American expatriot seeking an alternate dream.
Though the canvas of Paris is broad, his vingettes are witty, personal and affecting. He so artfully renders the object of his desire, his Paris, that you'll ache with longing to be there as well. I was so caught up in the thrall of his tales of City of Lights that I had a hard time finishing this book. But day dreams must end and the moon must set...even in Paris.
I treasure this truly engaging and wonderful book.
Rating: 
Summary: The man's got writing talent - why doesn't he use it?
Review: I love Paris (so much so that I live here), and I love good writers (Adam Gopnik is one). So, inspired by all the rave, I picked up a copy of this book. It sounded like a nice, easy read. I was disappointed. After bravely having worked my way through it (does that happen to you, too? Once you start a book you have to finish it for better for worse?), I agree with all those readers who commented that while it was very well written from a linguistic point of view, and does have some amusing passages, the majority of his stories are yawn-inspiring. Who apart from family and friends cares about his son's adventures and preferences when all you want to know is the writer's own view of Paris - after all, he IS a well-reputed "New Yorker" essayist? I particularly disliked all his American "Look what fancy part of Paris I live in" showing off. Very clearly, the typical French understatement hasn't rubbed off on him in all his five years here. I understand that his book is a collection of Adam Gopnik's essays. Pity about his talent.... he could have used this opportunity to write a different kind of "American in Paris" book.
Rating: 
Summary: best consumed in small portions
Review: I remember liking Gopnik's "Letters from Paris" series when I still subscribed to the New Yorker in 1996. This book, frankly, is a disappointment. Although parts of it was still enjoyable (he's good at the craft of writing -- often witty on a sentence-level, and technically strong (I liked his use of the parallelism in A Tale of Two Cafes)), in a book form, some troubling characterstics show through more than his New Yorker pieces. He is fond of trying to turn small daily details into some deep metaphor about the cultural differences between NYC & Paris; but more often than not, the attempts seem forced and unreasonable. Either he was willfully, pretentiously trying to be deeper than his experiences afforded him, or perhaps he was just a lost foreigner who misunderstood his environs a lot. In terms of actual insights, this book offers no more than the same sort of thing one would expect to hear from a college student returning from her study-abroad program (granted he expressed them in a more entertaining fashion). From a human perspective, I think that Gopnik was cruel for making his very young child adjust to unfamiliar countries (twice!) just to satisfy his own vanity/childhood fantasy. I find his constant attempt at trying to fit in, trying to become more "Parisian," (and failing) rather pathetic; though in an odd way, it makes a rather moving American tale (immigrants trying to fit-in in the US).
Rating:
Summary: Moony Over Paris
Review: Just as the world is divided into New York City haters and lovers, so are we divided over Paris. Adam Gopnik, his wife, and young son Luke decamped to Paris in 1995 to let Luke grow up, if only for a few years, in a great city besides New York, and this is their story. It's a family tale, or a variety of them, and the theme is always the City itself. And why not? If ever there was a city that deserves its own chroniclers, it's Paris. Gopnik does it right: He's got a genius for turning the personal into the general, and for bringing to fruition some terrific insights into French character (at least, where that intersects with Parisian character). "Trouble at the Tower" is without equal -- maybe only O'Henry, in his New York stories, could pull off something equal. If you loathe Paris, fine, buy another book. But if you're educable and recognize that cities and their residents can demonstrate the best and most contradictory sides of human society, then dig in. -- Incidentally, now back in New York, Gopnik's work remains the best reason to subscribe to the New Yorker; his essay on The Map of The City (November 2000) was a treasure. My only regret? That some of the favorite pieces he wrote in Paris weren't included (viz: The Virtual Bishop...).
Rating:
Summary: If You Like The New Yorker Sensibility...
Review: Paris to the Moon follows the relationship of a new father with an old city. The book's anicdotes describe Parisians and the awkward curiosity that Americans have with the Gallic personality. Gopnik is a Paris romantic, but doubts that the city remains the international capital of culture. Gopnik is a New Yorker at heart, but has a tremendous desire to understand and to fit into Paris. This dilemma never resolves itself, but Gopnik's struggle is a journey that is unique to contemporary America (and Paris). The desire to be separate from New York, a romanticism for Paris, and the uncertainties that come with being a father mix for a touching description of an American abroad. As a casual speaker of French, a new father, and a lover of Paris, I found the book insightful and meaningful.
Rating:
Summary: Picks up where Liebling left off
Review: PARIS TO THE MOON is a wonderful book, that rare kind of book that leaves its readers feeling happy. (The title is explained in the first segment.) Author Adam Gopnik wrote many of these pieces as the permanent correspondent for the "New Yorker" Magazine in Paris. According to the foreword, a few other sections are seeing print for the first time here, coming directly from his personal diary. PARIS TO THE MOON covers a five-year interval during which the author and his wife lived in Paris with their newborn son. The vignettes included are very personal. Gopnik tells of their adventures as strangers in a strange land, celebrating the similarities in everyday life and delighting (pretty much) in the differences. So many of us, so many Americans in Paris, do love that city and this book will strike a chord in anyone who ever has visited there. And it also will resonate with any reader who, simply, loves good writing, because this is writing at its best. The only complaint is that this reminiscence is too short!
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