Simon Kuper’s Impossible City is one of those books that hooks you right away, especially if you’ve ever daydreamed about Paris or, like me, had your own complicated love affair with a city. It’s a deeply personal yet sharp look at Parisian society in the 21st century—how it’s evolved over the past two decades and how it continues to navigate its place in the world. Kuper, a British journalist, bought an apartment in Paris in 2000, and he’s been there ever since, living with his American wife and their three kids. So, he’s not just some outsider giving a touristy take on Paris—he’s been in the trenches long enough to really understand how the city works.

One of the things I loved about this book is how Kuper unpacks the mysterious social codes that make Paris, well, Paris. You know, the kind of unwritten rules that seem so obvious to locals but feel impossibly complex to anyone looking in from the outside. He gets into everything—how Parisians socialize, how they see themselves, and why they act the way they do. And he does it with this dry, witty tone that makes you laugh even when he’s pointing out something truly ridiculous. It’s like having coffee with that one friend who’s brutally honest but in a way that somehow feels affectionate.

The chapters about elitism and the rise of Emmanuel Macron were especially fascinating. Kuper does this brilliant job of connecting the dots between Parisian networks of privilege and similar systems back in the UK, where he’s from. (He also wrote a book called Chums about British elites and their old-boy networks, so clearly this is his wheelhouse.) What makes it so interesting is that you can see these patterns playing out in different ways all over the world, but Paris has its own unique spin on it. It’s like the city is both timeless and ever-changing at the same time.

Kuper also gets into the nuts and bolts of how Paris has physically transformed over the years, which I found weirdly gripping. He talks about the massive infrastructure projects leading up to last summer’s Olympics, and how the city has had to balance its old-world charm with the demands of modern urban life. He also dives into heavier topics, like the aftermath of the 2015 terrorist attacks and the pandemic, and how these events have left lasting marks on the city and its people. But he doesn’t just dwell on the heavy stuff—he paints a picture of a city that’s resilient, complicated, and yes, occasionally maddening.

What really struck me was Kuper’s story about applying for French citizenship after Brexit. It’s such a personal moment, but it also says so much about how identity and belonging are shifting in this crazy, interconnected world we’re living in. It made me think about my own experiences—how we all carry pieces of where we’re from, even as we try to fit into new places and cultures. His perspective is so thoughtful and real, and I found myself nodding along, even though my life is nothing like his.

Ultimately, Impossible City isn’t just about Paris. It’s about what it means to live in a place that feels both familiar and foreign at the same time. Kuper doesn’t sugarcoat things—he’s honest about the city’s flaws and frustrations—but you can also tell how much he loves it. It’s not a gushy, romanticized view of Paris, but something much more layered and relatable. Whether you’re a Francophile, an expat, or just someone who’s curious about the inner workings of one of the most iconic cities in the world, this book is worth your time.

It’s sharp, funny, and oddly comforting—a reminder that even the most “impossible” places have their own kind of magic.