This is a slow moving novel about life in everyday Paris. We get glimpses of the beautiful city when the main character walks or takes the Metro to other locations but instead of seeing the tourist side of Paris, we get a look at the way the residents live their lives.

Trevor is a 30-something year old man who works in his bicycle shop and lives in a tiny apartment above the shop He moved from the US to Paris with his mother and brother after a family tragedy. He still has issues around his life in the US and can't seem to let them go and move on with his life. His main goal is to live a life without commitments -- to his family, to the women he dates or to his job. He had dreamed of being a photographer when he was younger but now he doesn't want to commit to it as his profession and is happy meandering through life and lazily running his bicycle shop.

When a transit strike in Paris makes his bicycle shop very busy, Trevor makes a major error in his life that will further estrange him from his family. After several years when he re-connects with his mother and brother, Trevor begins to change as he hears secrets from his past that have kept him from living a full life.

Even though this book is very slow-paced (sometimes too slow) watching Trevor change throughout the book is very interesting to read. Plus how you can you wrong with a book that leads you through the back roads and cafes of Paris. ( )

Death seems to define this story. The lack of definition of the deaths and the surrounding wall of silence becomes the narrator’s all-consuming malaise. There isn’t a big story, just a well told, extremely descriptive blow by blow of a “predictable, independent life” that brings no inner peace. Relationships come, go, bloom, fall apart, much like anyone’s life. Mistakes are made, secrets are kept, that wall of silence is built hoping to protect yet ultimately having the converse effect. A relatable story that somehow felt off.

My biggest problem with this book was the narrator, being a man. It felt like a woman. I just couldn’t connect. Not that the writing was bad or the story lacking both aspects were actually strong and good, but the feel, the fabric, was je ne sais quoi.

Thank you NetGalley and She Writes Press for a copy. ( )