The Little Paris Book Shop is a quiet book, best suited for a frigid afternoon, a cozy recliner, a smoldering fire place and a sentimental soul.

The central character, Monsieur Perdu, is an introverted bookseller with a knack for pairing readers and stories. He can read a person better than a trained psychiatrist can untangle a disordered mind. With his insider knowledge, he not only recommends books but refuses to sell them to the readers they will least serve. But despite his insight into others, he remains a mystery to himself, haunted by loneliness.

The book is intricate, using unique metaphors, layering characters and unfolding delicately, but for this reader at least, it’s a trifle slow. Though minor conflict is introduced within the first two chapters, it builds so incrementally that the reader risks dropping off to sleep.

I write each review from a personal perspective, however. Monsieur Perdu could no doubt have told me this book wouldn’t suit me and found a much better paged companion. This book is perfect for a certain reader–probably a sentimental soul.