The Paris Library is a beautifully written book based on the true World War II story of the heroic librarians at the American Library in Paris who defied the Nazis by continuing to provide subscribers as well as soldiers as many books as they possibly could no matter what restrictions the Nazis placed upon them. As Odile learned after a short time working there, "The Library was more than bricks and books; its mortar was people who cared." In fact, the library itself is a powerful character in the book, and its employees and regular visitors become important members of this literary family.
The story is told in two timelines: Odile as a young Parisian woman in 1939 and as an older woman living in Montana in 1983. In many ways, I thought the second timeline was unnecessary other than to show Odile attempting to rescue a young girl who was on the same path that Odile traveled so many years ago-- and of course for the complete unveiling of Odile's past.
Odile drew me right into the story. I could smell the books on the shelves of the American Library in Paris. I could hear the two old friends' daily arguments in the periodicals room. And I felt no shock when the "crow letters" began arriving at Nazi headquarters informing them that the librarians were hiding forbidden literature and providing reading material to Jews.
As beautifully written as The Paris Library is-- and there are many passages that illuminated my imagination-- I had a difficult time immersing myself fully into the story. As much as sentences like "Her bookshelves ran over, so her vanity table was a mixture of pink blush and Dorothy Parker, mascara and Montaigne" warmed my heart, and facts such as Zora Neale Hurston being Odile's favorite living writer made her come alive to me, part of me still held back.
Why? It has more to do with me as a person than it has to do with the story. The overarching theme of The Paris Library is jealousy, and I've always had trouble warming up to people or characters who live by that emotion. Since my reaction to this novel is so subjective, take my opinion with a grain of salt and give it a try. It is a rich and multi-layered tale.
(Review copy courtesy of the publisher and Net Galley)
The story is told in two timelines: Odile as a young Parisian woman in 1939 and as an older woman living in Montana in 1983. In many ways, I thought the second timeline was unnecessary other than to show Odile attempting to rescue a young girl who was on the same path that Odile traveled so many years ago-- and of course for the complete unveiling of Odile's past.
Odile drew me right into the story. I could smell the books on the shelves of the American Library in Paris. I could hear the two old friends' daily arguments in the periodicals room. And I felt no shock when the "crow letters" began arriving at Nazi headquarters informing them that the librarians were hiding forbidden literature and providing reading material to Jews.
As beautifully written as The Paris Library is-- and there are many passages that illuminated my imagination-- I had a difficult time immersing myself fully into the story. As much as sentences like "Her bookshelves ran over, so her vanity table was a mixture of pink blush and Dorothy Parker, mascara and Montaigne" warmed my heart, and facts such as Zora Neale Hurston being Odile's favorite living writer made her come alive to me, part of me still held back.
Why? It has more to do with me as a person than it has to do with the story. The overarching theme of The Paris Library is jealousy, and I've always had trouble warming up to people or characters who live by that emotion. Since my reaction to this novel is so subjective, take my opinion with a grain of salt and give it a try. It is a rich and multi-layered tale.
(Review copy courtesy of the publisher and Net Galley)
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