“Paris Echo”

Considering all that he’s written, I find it somewhat remarkable that “Paris Echo” is the first Sebastian Faulks I have ever read. Was that a good place to start? I suspect I’ll never know.

Without doubt, there is much about the book to admire, but the question I’m wrestling with at the end of it is to try and understand how much I actually liked it… I also find myself unsure the kind of adjectives I want to apply to it; for me, is it ‘deep’, ‘serious’, ‘moving’, ‘funny’…? Obviously in places it is all those things, and yet I can’t help feeling that, with me at least, “Paris Echo” may just have missed the mark a tad.

The conclusion I have reached is that I probably need to dip my toe into Mr. Faulks’ water once again. I’ll probably steer clear of the blockbusters like “Birdsong” and “Charlotte Gray”, and go for something a little more, what?, modest.