The Paris Express by Emma Donoghue: REVIEW

Synopsis

On October 22, 1895, a train burst through the wall of the Montparnasse terminus in Paris and landed nose-down on the street. A very famous photo was taken in the aftermath. The Paris Express is a mostly-fictionalized account of the train ride leading up to this incident.

My Review

The Paris Express was one of my most anticipated releases this year. I love Emma Donoghue’s Room and The Wonder, and I’ve been excited to read more from her for a while. When this book was announced, I read up on the train crash that inspired it and was intrigued to see what she was going to make of it.

I’m… confused? Uncomfortable? Disappointed? Let’s try to unpack this.

In which I am confusion

First let me say that Donoghue is an extremely capable writer. Her prose is flawless, her characterizations impeccable, and her dialogue realistic. I never have any criticisms to offer about her writing. But… why write this?

Essentially, we’re jumping between the heads of select passengers and crew aboard this ill-fated train. That’s it, that’s the novel. There’s no real plot here, which isn’t necessarily a bad thing, but aside from a few discussions amongst the passengers (and a few rantings inside the head of one passenger) about the state of French society at the time, there doesn’t really seem to be a point either. Every now and then while reading it (which didn’t take all that long, because even Donoghue didn’t feel there was enough material to fill a full-length novel here) I’d stop and think, “But why though?” Just an exercise in character sketches and meaningless conversations? I don’t understand.

In which I am extremely uncomfortable

Speaking of character sketches… this is where it gets uncomfortable for me. These aren’t actually characters. These are real people. And in Donoghue’s author’s notes, she admits that she made up a lot about their personal lives. Considering how much intricate detail she offers about their bodily functions and sex habits, I am extremely uncomfortable with that. There’s a full-on gay sex scene featuring a real person who might not even have been gay? And who almost certainly didn’t cheat on his wife during this particular train journey while she was right there??? Nah, I don’t like that. And don’t even get me started about the murderous intentions she inserts into the mind of another real person who never seems to have hurt anybody in their life? I… no. NO.

These were random, normal, innocent people who happened to board a certain train on an unlucky day, and now they’re fair game to an author’s artistic license. I don’t like it. Fictionalizing real people is a huge pet peeve of mine, and it’s unbearable for me in this book.

In which I am ultimately disappointed

Yeah, I don’t know. I wanted to like this because Donoghue is a wonderful writer and this is an interesting historical moment to choose to write about, but I’m disappointed. I don’t even feel like I can recommend it, except to Donoghue completionists. If you’re cool with an author taking wild and crazy artistic license on real people’s lives, and you don’t mind casually graphic descriptions of bodily functions, and you don’t need a plot or a point to your historical almost-fiction, this could be a good read for you. I’m walking away very confused. And uncomfortable. And disappointed.

You can purchase The Paris Express here on Bookshop.org*
*As an affiliate, I will receive a small commission from any purchase made through this link.