I’ve had The Paris Wife by Paula McLain on my “Reading List” for nearly two years, but I finally got around to reading it while we were up at the cabin last weekend. So I can finally say, with conviction, that I loved and adored every page, sentence and word of this book. Joey might have me committed if I continue to talk about it. On Monday, I was so engrossed in telling a story about Ernest Hemingway that I didn’t even notice we were running up the torturous hill that usually kills me. Which was a good distraction for me, but it was probably just extra torture for Joey.

Although I knew from the beginning, middle and end that I was in love with this book, I had a really hard time putting it into words, so I decided to give it a few days to sink in. I couldn’t decide if it was the fact that I basically read it cover to cover with very few breaks and was therefore totally engrossed and transported into 1920’s Paris, or if it was Hadley (Hemingway’s first wife and the narrator of the story) and her endearing personality or the way she talked about the relationship between the two of them or if it was Paula McLain and the way she filled in the gaps of this real life story in such a natural and believable way or how she was able to end it all in such a heartbreaking, yet triumphant manner.

In the end, the answer is easy. It’s all of those things, of course. And so many more. I always say if a book is able to make me feel then it has my heart forever and this one made me feel so much. And I think I’ll leave it at that. Before you want to have me committed too.