If travel is one of your resolutions, than you might find yourself eyeballing the travel section at the bookstore. There is a small area for travel memoir that continues to keep travel couch potatoes dreaming.
“French Milk” by Lucy Knisley is just another “The Catcher in the Rye”-type linear story that ends in a happy couch potato limbo. It is written as a sweet diary that includes comic book art, cuisine and an extreme dose of childlike wonder. Unfortunately, the storyline of Knisley’s six-week trip to France with her mother infinitely flatlines.
Her daily entries include black-and-white photographs or comic book artistic renderings of her personal experiences, mostly including the imbibing of a lot of cheese, carbs and alcohol, and a visit to every Paris tourist attraction possible. Unlike “The Catcher in the Rye” and “The Perks of Being a Wallflower,” “French Milk” is a bit less deep than face value and doesn’t quite make the mark as a tale of personal growth, as the author suggests on the first page of the book.
In the first few pages of the book, Knisley has a drawing of herself and her boyfriend John sitting on a swing chair smoking. Then she ridiculously explains in handwritten font that she started smoking to “prepare for smoky Parisian cafes.”
In another section, Knisley portrays herself at a cafe table surrounded by men at other tables looking at her. She writes, “I’ve gone almost a month without sex, and I miss it. I would never cheat on John, but I am beginning to notice some nice attention from French boys at the cafe where I go to draw and check my e-mail.” Ignoring her audience completely, her readers get the impression that she is assuring her boyfriend that she’s not cheating on him.
Overall, Knisley had a cute idea for a college art project. This book ended up to be interesting to learn about bits and pieces of French tourist attractions and about Knisley’s life during her trip. As a whole, the work is repetitive, while the contents do not inspire any emotional connection to her reader, and her unchanged attitude from beginning to end seemed as though she might still have to wean herself from bottled milk.
So, other than some entertaining drawings and some cute observations about the artist/author’s life for six weeks, “French Milk” isn’t going to convince you to take that trip to France you’d been contemplating. It’s more likely good to flip through on the bidet or to place on your coffee table to entertain guests.
Rating: W W W
