She’ll Always Have Paris

I’VE been a friend and colleague of Priscilla Buckley for decades. This will not prevent me from telling the truth about her book.

Its prose is energized by intelligence and concreteness, a claim I will soon validate. It is wonderfully evocative of a time and place. Or, rather, two places, New York and Paris, but mostly Paris. Reading it, I thought of Elliot Paul’s The Last Time I Saw Paris, Janet Flanner’s Paris Was Yesterday, Ernest Hemingway’s A Moveable Feast.