Paris in Turmoil #parisinjuly2026

The first thing to say about Paris in Turmoil by Eric Hazan is that it’s not really about Paris in turmoil. When I hear the word “turmoil”, particularly in relation to Paris, I think of barricades in the streets, chaos and unrest, maybe a Molotov cocktail or two.

What Eric Hazan writes about instead is the long-term changes that happen in vibrant cities like Paris. Neighbourhoods evolve, ethnic groups come and go, old-style buses and taxis disappear, traditional buildings are replaced with both architectural marvels and eyesores.

I suppose that if you step back and look at Paris over the longue durée, all these changes could indeed look like turmoil, even though it’s not what we usually understand by the term. I’d be interested to hear from Emma or other French readers if the French title Le Tumulte de Paris has different connotations.

Although Hazan has a clear nostalgia for some of the forgotten elements of Parisian life—like newspaper delivery bicycles with smaller front wheels to accommodate an enormous metal rack of papers hot off the press—he mostly takes an even-handed approach to the changes he documents in this book.

“‘Paris is no longer what it used to be’—yes, and fortunately it changes and constantly evolves like a living organism, some parts atrophying while others proliferate.”

As far as I can tell, Paris in Turmoil was the last book Hazan wrote before his death in 2024 at the age of 87. He lived most of his life in Paris, and it’s clear from this book that he knew its streets and neighbourhoods intimately. While reading it, I felt as if Hazan wanted to document all the details he had spent a lifetime observing, to pass them on to whoever picked up the book before they fade into the past and are forgotten.

I could stroll down Rue des Rosiers today, for example, and have no idea that where the Japanese fashion store now stands, the Goldenberg charcuterie used to serve up legendary pastrami and gefilte fish to residents of the now-disappeared Jewish quarter. I wouldn’t know that tobacconists were often run by natives of Auvergne. I also wouldn’t know that many of the taxi drivers used to be White Russians, and I wouldn’t have this clear image of them:

“beret pulled down to the ears, grey overcoat, dead Gitane, and a very particular way of mistreating their old black and red G7 taxi.”

If the book consisted only of laments for a bygone Paris, it would be an interesting curiosity but perhaps a little boring. What makes it vibrant is Hazan’s clear interest in contemporary Paris. He explains the evolution of tabacs from Auvergnat to mostly Chinese ownership and why so many Indians from Madagascar want to own a droguiste.

Paris in Turmoil is structured as a series of vignettes on different themes. We have “Boulevard Périphérique”, for example, examining various options for destroying, burying or otherwise dealing with the city’s traffic-clogged ringroad. One chapter is on Jean-Paul Sartre, another is about studded crossings, and one called “Left Bank” examines how a vibrant, creative neighbourhood became a “dreary shop-window”.

Readers of this blog will probably appreciate the chapter on “Bookshops”, which thankfully is not an elegy to a lost past but a celebration of the fact that independent bookshops have not been wiped out in Paris to the same extent that they have in London or New York. Hazan charts the geographical shifts as sky-high rents in traditional bookshop strongholds like Montparnasse and the Left Bank price out the artists and writers in favour of “classy foreigners, managers with pointed shoes or directors of PR, not great book buyers on the whole.” But the bookshops have simply shifted to the north-eastern quarter of the city instead.

I also enjoyed Hazan’s views on what makes a good bookshop, which intersect somewhat with my own thoughts but also go further. He says it has nothing to do with size or range and everything to do with the bookseller’s point of view and how they connect books and display them in a coherent way.

The section on “Parisian Writers”, meanwhile, sets strict boundaries around the definition.

“I would suggest confining the title of ‘Parisian writer’ to those for whom Paris was an essential source of inspiration. Being born in Paris or having lived there all your life does not do the trick.”

So Valéry, Gide and Malraux are out, and Proust is also excluded because of a new condition introduced later: Parisian writers must enjoy walking the city alone and collecting memories and details, just as Hazan himself clearly loves to do from the details he shares in this book. By his idiosyncratic criteria, he names Balzac, Baudelaire and Hugo as the great Parisian writers, and gives wonderful examples of the details they observed and included in their books.

This eclectic selection of short, themed snippets of Parisian life reminded me somewhat of the feuilletons of Joseph Roth in The Hotel Years. It’s not for you if you want a deep, logical examination of Parisian history, but I loved its broad sweep and vivid collection of details. Despite the apparently random, disconnected series of vignettes, I felt by the end as if I had accumulated an image of Paris more accurate and true than the one I had before, assembled on various short visits as a tourist. Hazan is an insider with a deep knowledge of and a clear love for the city, and in Paris in Turmoil he piles detail upon detail to eventually communicate something of its essence.

I wrote this post for Emma’s Paris in July event, celebrating all things French. It’s running for the rest of the month, so do check out the other posts, and maybe even join in and post your own thoughts on French books, movies, art or anything else.

The post Paris in Turmoil #parisinjuly2026 appeared first on Andrew Blackman.

On his blog A Writer’s Life, British novelist Andrew Blackman shares book reviews, insights into the writing process and the latest literary news, as well as listing short story contests with a total of more than $250,000 in prize money.