Customer Reviews

C'est la Vie: An American Conquers the City of Light, Begins a New Life, and Becomes--Zut Alors!--Almost French

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1 star:		(7)

 

 

I'm a sucker for the move-to-Paris (Provence, Tuscany, Spain, etc.) genre, with one caveat. I like the stories where the writer has actually moved to Paris or wherever, and is not just buying a summer home and expects to become a native. In other words, I liked A Year in Provence, and was not so fond of Under the Tuscan Sun.

In C'est la Vie, Suzy Gershman has indeed sold her house in the States and moved to Paris. She is newly widowed, which adds a slightly different twist to this story. Gershman tells how she managed to get an apartment and furniture, how she dealt with the French bureaucaracy without speaking much French, how she coped with losing her husband, and how she got back into the dating game. She keeps an upbeat attitude in spite of all the obstacles and becomes, as an acquaintance tells her, "almost French."

C'est la Vie has everything going for it, and yet, I feel as if I should have enjoyed it more than I did. Granted, I was not aware of Gershman's Born to Shop series of books, so I ended up skimming the frequent and detailed shopping interludes. Apparently, she is also a celebrity of sorts, so she does a bit of name-dropping. She doesn't flinch at popping for regular trips to London to have her hair and nails done, so I'm afraid we run in different economic circles.

C'est la Vie reads more like a fantasy than like a travel memoir. I guess I was expecting to identify with Gershman, but after the affair with the wealthy Count, the New Year's Eve assignation with a handsome Italian at the Ritz, the purchase of a summer home in Provence. . .

Although I did enjoy C'est la Vie, I also recommend Almost French by Sarah Turnbull. It's written by an Australian journalist who travels to Paris, falls in love with a French man, and stays. Somehow, I found her story much more real.

I suppose some widowed women could afford to move to Paris and live the kind of privileged life that Gershman enjoys...then again, not everyone has the financial resources to lead such a glamourous life.

The above is the main difficulty I had with this otherwise amusing little book. Gershman writes as though she is telling her readers "how to do it". ("It" being moving to Paris and beginning a new way of life in a new cultural environment). But I think she writes for someone other than women of "average" financial means.

Ah, well! Taken for what it is ("A Princess Diary" as another reviewer called it), Gershman's book is informative and even humorous at times. Francophiles and armchair travelers will most likely enjoy her descriptions of things French. And a few well-heeled widows may actually be able to use her book as a "how to" manual.

For the rest of us, it is an enjoyable fantasy read.

Reviewer: Linda Painchaud

As an admitted Francophile, I loved the descriptions of Paris and the Parisians and appreciated the tips. But I was disappointed in the shallowness of the author's descriptions of her emotions following the loss of her husband of 25 years. One would think that after 25 years of marriage, her feelings might have been a little deeper than "I did not choose for my husband to die...but...I felt tinges of delight that I had the opportunity to start over". Also, I could not not help but think that anyone less connected with the famous and semi-famous (Patricia Wells and her husband were good friends) might not have had as much fun and ease.
All in all, fun to read about France and an American's experience with moving there, but not a less well-connected, more emotionally honest woman's guide to moving to Paris alone.

Having packed up, shipped out, and lived abroad for many years, I was looking forward to enjoying this book. However, I found it not only difficult to get through, but rather cold and impersonal, which was strange because nearly every sentence begins with "I"

The first section is ALL about apartment hunting. And I mean ALL. Been there, done that, and certainly I didn't do so with such false drama and dissatisfaction. She had the advantage of having many French-speaking friends, money, including a long-standing French bank account, a familiarity with the culture, environment and language (unlike most other people, self included) but yet, she presented the whole experience as beng bothersome, with everything an inconvenience, including the offer of a friend's spare (tiny) room. (Can you say ingrate?) I was hoping for a sense of adventure and promise and fun and wonder, but instead, it all seemed so irritating to the woman.

The book plodded along in the same vein, and perhaps should be called Grumpy Old Woman Abroad. How tetchy can one get over sheets?? Publisher mentions "maddening frustrations" -- and in my view, that's about all this book portrays. I guess I'm more disappointed because, having moved out of the country, I undrestand what it can be like-- thankfully my experience was nothing like hers.

Her little rendezvous with the married man was pretty pathetic, and not something to I'd want to brag about. Or when you've lost your own husband, another woman's man fair game?

I'd stick to your basic Fodors or similar travel book for all the info you get in this... at least it would FEEL happier.

I enjoyed reading this book, but as another reviewer said, I found the author's comments about not being able to afford this or that absolutely ridiculous. Her lifestyle is obviously upper middle class. While I don't want to belittle how difficult it must be to start over after losing a spouse, her integration into French society was much easier than it would be for the average expat, since she obviously had a comfortable amount of money with which to do it.

All in all, the story was fun to read and had some good humor. It's a quick read and entertaining. And there are some interesting insights into French culture in this book. I recommend it overall, but like I said already, I did find myself annoyed at her repeated comments about her budget, since she obviously lives a life of privilege. Most expats would not find integration into French life quite so easy from a financial perspective.

I liked Sarah Turnbull's "Almost French" better than this book.

With all the personal experience the author had from her numerous visits to Paris and her many friends living in the city I really thought this was going to be a great book for inside tips. How wrong I was. Very little advice is offered throughout the book. Instead the author focuses on things that are just plain irrelevant - the chef's game, buying sheets and towels and what outfit to wear. Forget about wondering what it is like to have sex with a Frenchman, you will still be in the dark. Look for another book on how to live in Paris, better yet don't buy a book, go and experience Paris for yourself if possible. There is no advice here and even less adventure.

Mike Gershman was in the final stages of lung cancer before the doctor discovered he was sick. Every night after that, his wife of 25 years lay in his arms and sobbed, "What will I do without you?"

"You will go to Paris," he said.

Six weeks after the official diagnosis, he was dead.

In the officially-sanctioned grief book, the widow mopes in her house, wrapping herself in her husband's old shirts and becoming a pariah among friends and family. She hits bottom, crawls to some officially-approved house of redemption, and there, in the glow of the love of the Lord, starts the slog back toward life --- which includes, along the way, the writing of an officially-sanctioned grief book and the appearance of a Good Man (though never, of course, as good as her husband).

This is not that book, for the simple reason that Suzy Gershman is not that woman. She grieves for her husband, alright, but she's no moper. Indeed, rarely have I encountered a woman with such an optimistic take on life. She likes people, and people like her right back. She likes going out --- she's the author of the Born to Shop guides --- and the folks she meets in shops and cafes quickly fall under her spell.

So 52-year-old Suzy Gershman, to the surprise of her college-age son and a good many of her neighbors, walked out of her cozy, memory-filled house in Westport, Connecticut, and moved to Paris. (What would have surprised friends and family more: "I paid for the funeral with a credit card. I wanted the miles.")

And once she got to Paris, she had adventures with a capital A. Renting an apartment is a chore at best in France; the rules are crazy, the landlords often sadistic. Suzy's spared nothing; good cheer carries her through. Ditto the buying of a bed --- you have no idea how complex a transaction that is --- and the shock of buying standard kitchen items at three times the American price.

But Paris, she discovers, is a place where she can thrive. It's not just the flower-markets and cafes, it's the culture. A cheery news story reminds her that the French didn't have more sex per week, but that they have more sex later in their lives. Her conclusion: "Maybe every American woman over fifty should move to France."

Prose this breezy grabs your hand and just pulls you along. You race with Suzy through the first year of her new life as "The Runaway Widow" tosses off useful advice for Paris visitors and the bereaved with equal insouciance. Naturally, because her charm is so infectious, she meets a man whose opening salvo is "You are too beautiful to walk past me. I say a prayer you will stop to talk to me."

Widows don't have sex? That's only in the officially-sanctioned books. Suzy Gershman not only goes to bed with this man --- this married man, in fact --- she describes their frolics in what might be called lurid detail. Women of a certain age will cheer her, even as they want to tell her what she already knows: He's wrong for her.

"Life handed me a lemon," she writes, near the very happy ending. "Somehow I had made citron pressè ...and it was sweet." How sweet? This book makes you want to go to Paris immediately. And, once you get there, it makes you think you must call Suzy, for in just 270 pages, she has become an old and dear friend.

--- Reviewed by Jesse Kornbluth

Six weeks after her husband kicks the bucket, the widow Gershman decides to live her dream - moving to Paris. The book touches not at all the emotional elements of finding oneself a widow at 53. Instead the almost 300 embarrassing pages of this book tells us where to shop, shop and shop and eat, eat and eat. In all her time in Paris Ms. Gershman never mentions doing one cultural activity. She never visits a museum, goes to the ballet or the opera. All difficulties of life in Paris such as dealing with furniture deliveries, purchasing fax machines etc. are smoothed over by her group of elite and tony friends. Her social life is busy given the number of chefs, journalists and hoteliers she knows. Finally with pride Ms. Gershman tells us of her love affair with a married count. Apparently she feels no shame in telling us about her relationship with another woman's husband. It's just the thing to do in gay Paree. We learn nothing of interest in this book other than if one is shallow in Texas (her home state) one is equally vacuous and shallow in Connecticut and Paris. Save your money and read one of Peter Mayle's books instead.

This light delicious meringue-y confection of a book is like sitting down over tea al fresco to hear all the adventures of a girlfriend just in from Paris. What vicarious fun it is to listen to the travails of hunting for a flat "Dark is bad", navigating the flea markets "where the prices are so low you feel like giggling in glee" , and dipping a tentative toe into the pool of dating once more after widowhood "I wanted a reason to shave my legs again".

Those critics who whine that Suzy Gershman writes from the elevated perspective of one who has independent means are just full of sour grapes. We all have friends with more (and less) money than us, and who gives a fig? This memoir of a woman picking herself up from her grief to start over in midlife is inspiring and joyful. I could taste the pain au chocolate, and hear the clink of dinner glasses at her soirees. I knew she was a kindred spirit from the moment I saw her photo on the back flap and read her opening paragraphs.

Buy the book, fortify yourself with a fresh baguette and some espresso, and settle in for highly pleasurable escape from whatever is mundane in your world.

I'll admit I'm a sucker for the living abroad in Europe books. This book was disappointing, however, as several other reviewers have noted. Portions ring true (as a woman widowed at age 40, I completely related to the grief she feels and the need to start anew), but significant portions of the book strike me as shallow. The author strikes me as disingenuous at times. She is shocked (shocked!) that her American friend professes outrage when the author tells him she's having an affair with a married man. Hey, I'm not a prude, but adultery is adultery--even in Paris! She also expresses shock when the chic Parisian shop doesn't carry her (large) dress size. She's shocked (shocked!) to learn that Americans are often fat and French women tend to be thin or average in terms of weight. Despite this, however, I did read in the entire book in an evening. If you want something light and not terribly insightful, this may be the book for you.