Sunday, June 10, 2012

Anna and the French Kiss by Stephanie Perkins

Title: Anna and the French Kiss
Author: Stephanie Perkins
Pages: 372
Rating: 5/5 stars

"Anna is looking forward to her senior year in Atlanta, where she has a great job, a loyal best friend, and a crush on the verge of becoming more. Which is why she is less than thrilled about being shipped off to boarding school in Paris - until she meets Etienne St. Clair: perfect, Parisian (and English and American, which makes for a swoon-worthy accent), and utterly irresistible. The only problem is that he's taken, and Anna might be, too, if anything comes of her almost-relationship back home. As winter melts into spring, will a year of romantic near - misses end with the French kiss Anna - and readers - have long awaited?"

The Good:
Paris. Anna's clumsiness and tendency to say the wrong things. English French Americans. Etienne St. Clair. Flirting. Swooning. French Cliches. Notre Dame. Victor's Victor. Drunk Confessions of love. Josh's drawings. Emails. Anna's fighting. Anna's Drunk Dancing. The French. Crooked and gaped teeth. Girl Scout Cookies. Canadian Flags. Bananas and elephants.  Made me feel warm and fuzzy inside. Pants and other British words. CAPS LOCK. Bridge's vocabulary.

The Bad:
It ended. That this cover wasn't used. Meredith. Anna's low self confidence. 

rating: 5 stars
favorite character: Anna
favorite quotes:
“I love you as certain dark things are loved, secretly, between the shadow and the soul.” 

“Here is everything I know about France: Madeline and Amelie and Moulin Rouge. The Eiffel Tower and the Arc de Triomphe, although I have no idea what the function of either actually is. Napoleon, Marie Antoinette, and a lot of kings named Louis. I'm not sure what they did either, but I think it has something to do with the French Revolution, which has something to do with Bastille Day. The art museum is called the Louvre and it's shaped like a pyramid and the Mona Lisa lives there along with that statue of the women missing her arms. And there are cafes and bistros or whatever they call them on every street corner. And mimes. The food is supposed to be good, and the people drink a lot of wine and smoke a lot of cigarettes. I've heard they don't like Americans, and they don't like white sneakers.” 

“French name, English accent, American school. Anna confused.” 

“I mean, really. Who sends their kid to boarding school? It's so Hogwarts. Only mine doesn't have cute boy wizards or magic candy or flying lessons.” 

“I'm saying I'm in love with you! I've been in love with you this whole bleeding year!” 

“Girl scouts didn't teach me what to do with emotionally unstable drunk boys.” 

“Har. Bloody. Har."
He smiles. "Oh, I see. Known me less than a day and teasing me about my accent. What's next? Care to discuss the state of my hair? My height? My trousers?"
Trousers. Honestly.” 

“We both got our Point Zero wishes - each other. He said he wished for me every time.” 

“Oof," he says.
"Hey, there's a bed there."
"Thanks for the warning."
"No problem.” 

“I wasn't being a git. I wasn't even being a twat, or a wanker, or any of your other bleeding Briticisms -” 

“I'm sorry," he says.
"What? Why?"
"You're fixing everything I set down." He nods at my hands, which are readjusting the elephant. "It wasn't polite of me to come in and start touching your things."
"Oh, it's okay," I say quickly, letting go of the figurine. "You can touch anything of mine you want."
He freezes. A funny look runs across his face before I realize what I've said. I didn't mean it like that.
Not that that would be so bad.” 

“His wang is rubbed shiny," Josh elaborates. "For luck."
"Why are we talking about parts again?" Mer asks. "Can't we ever talk about anything else?"
"Really?" I ask. "Shiny wang?"
"Very," St. Clair says.
"Now that's something I've gotta see.” 

“I trail my fingers across his cheek. He stays perfectly still for me. “Please stop apologizing, Étienne.”
“Say my name again,” he whispers.
I close my eyes and lean forward. “Étienne.”
He takes my hands into his.Those perfect hands, that fit mine just so. “Anna?”
Our foreheads touch. “Yes?”
“Will you please tell me you love me? I’m dying here.”
And then we’re laughing. And then I’m in his arms, and we’re kissing, at first quickly—to make up for lost time—and then slowly, because we have all
the time in the world. And his lips are soft and honey sweet, and the careful, passionate way he moves them against my own says that he savors the way I
taste, too.
And in between kisses, I tell him I love him.
Again and again and again.” 

“He pats his way around the the bed and slides back in. "Ow," he says.
"My belt. Would it be weird..."
I'm thankful he can't see me blush."Of course not." And I listen to the slap of leather, s he pulls it out of his belt loops. He lays it gently on my hardwood floor.
"Um," he says. "Would it be weird-" 
"Oh, piss off. I'm not talking trousers. I only want under the blankets. That breeze is horrible." He slides underneath, and now we're lying side-by-side. In my narrow bed. Funny, but I never never imagined my first sleepover with a guy being, well, a sleepover.” 

“I don’t care what he thinks. Only what you think.” He holds me tighter. “Like if you think I need to stop biting my nails.”
“You’ve worn your pinkies to nubs,” I say cheerfully.
“Or if I need to start ironing my bed spread.”
“You do. And I love it.” 

“That's it," Rashmi says. "I'm outta here. Enjoy your hormones.” 

“Imagine," she said, after registering, "a whole city of gorgeous Italian guys. They can say anything to me, and it'll be sexy." 
"You'll be so easy," Rashmi said. "Would you like-ah to order-ah the spa-ghe-tti? 'Oh, do me, Marco!” 

“I must be a masochist to keep putting myself in these situations. I need help. I
need to see a shrink or be locked in a padded cell or straitjacketed or something.” 

"I love that the accent over his first name is called an acute accent, and that he has a cute accent.” 

“What are you gonna do with a giant crossword poster? 'Oh, I'm sorry, Anna. I can't go to the movies tonight. I'm working on two thousand across, Norwegian Birdcall.'"

“If you ask me to kiss you, I will,” he says.
His fingers stroke the inside of my wrists, and I burst into flames.
“Kiss me,” I say.
He does.”

“And that. Why don’t you call me Étienne anymore?” 

“I'm going to be sick. I'm going to vomit that weird eggplant tapenade I had for dinner, and everyone will hear, and no one will invite me to watch the mimes escape from their invisible boxes, or whatever it is people do here in their spare time.” 

“I don't know.  I don't really like old movies.  The acting is so, 'Hey buddy, ol' pal.  Let's go wear our hats and have a big misunderstanding” 

“Happy Thanksgiving,” he says, handing me my ticket. “Let’s see some dead people.

“Screw it. Let the fates decide” 

1 comment:

  1. OK after those quotes I'm going to have to read this book!! It looks so good!

    BTW I tagged your blog for The Liebster Blog Award