A passion for Paris

I've just finished David Downie's A Passion for Paris, and I have to agree with an assessment of the flaws of Downie (albeit, flaws of the author in his writing of a different book) I ran across. There's no doubt that Downie is supercilious, that he throws in French words when English words are perfectly satisfactory, that he provides no bibliography for his books. Still...he writes about Paris, and I treat books about Paris like I do beloved grandchildren, and that seems justifiable to me, somehow.

Downie takes on the romantics and their romances—Hugo, Sand, Baudelaire, Balzac, and more—in this book. I must admit that I found myself skimming through the details of the various lovers these greats took on. I'm not much of a Romantic myself, and that probably skewed my feelings about this book. I had Expectations as well, and I think we all know that these are good for nothing except to be Quickly Dashed.