This is not a book review. It’s neither the appropriate time nor place to post a book review of Rosecrans Baldwin’s Paris, I Love You But You’re Bringing Me Down. But I just had to stop by for a moment to mention how rib-painfully funny Mr. Baldwin is.
I dare anyone to read just the first two pages and not to get hooked. I have rarely disturbed El Argentino or my fellow metro travellers as much as I did when chortling — walloping gulps of laughs — spittles of unnoticed drool flying from my lips as I read his observations and interactions. Tears streaming down my cheeks, completely unembarrassed, because I was entirely unaware of myself, because I was with this astute, self-deprecating, edgy Rosecrans.
I’m not one for expat literature (though David Sedaris can be funny, of course), but I can’t leave this Paris, I Love You But You’re Bringing Me Down un-noted.
Thank you Gully Wells for having sent me during our dreary, cold winter — Farrar, Straus & Giroux has made a very wise publication choice.
PS/ El Argentino, who takes little notice of what I read or write, is fascinated with the name Rosecrans. I keep hearing him muttering to himself: Is Rosecrans related to the northern Civil War General?