I love French novels. Novels written in France, about the French, about French food, translated from French, you name it. My heart seems to cry out, Seduce me! as soon as I open the front cover. I'm currently reading The Belly of Paris by Émile Zola. The first fifty pages is essentially a visual and aromatic orgasm as Zola illustrates the Parisienne marketplaces in the wee hours of the morning, just at dawn. The chapter I just read has the most touching, natural, and subtle description of blossoming love, more so than in many modern novels. A savory read.
For my classes this year I've also read the likes of Les Liaisons Dangereuses, Manon Lescaut, and Candide. Having just added Balzac's Omelette and Lunch in Paris, I'm ready to continue the trend! Allons-y!
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