Overall, a book with a lot of great information that wasn't unenjoyable. But Horne is a stuffy writer at times, and maybe even a bit of a stuffy historian. In the onslaught of historical facts, there doesn't seem to be any moment to stop and reflect or parse through the information more deeply. Granted, that may not have been within the scope of the book for him, and that's fine. As a reader, I prefer history with more spring in its interpretations.

The final chapters felt like something of a slog, and, as the book's focus comes closer to modern times, a bias becomes clear with his telling of history. For example, it's clear that de Gaulle represents greatness in all ways to Horne. It's also clear that France's occupation of Algeria was only an annoying "burden" (447) to France—conspicuously avoiding the horrors of colonialism and the massacres carried out by the French colonizers themselves. There's nothing wrong with Horne having an opinion about de Gaulle and French Algeria, but the book was too slanted by the end. ( )

Seven Ages of Paris is a great introduction to the history of Paris as well as to the wider context of the history of France and the individuals who have played a major role in its history. Alistair Horne takes no knowledge for granted and therefore provides fulsome background including, for example, introducing Napoleon, Louis XIV and other historic leaders of the country. Many readers will probably find some of this context unnecessary, but few will find it useless. It helps fill in the gaps in discussing the history of the city over a 2000-year period and provides a fuller and more readable history of Paris itself.

For each "age," Horne seeks to highlight the political, institutional, religious, cultural, legal and architectural developments, if any. Rather than try to provide a continuous history of all of these trends (which most likely would turn the book into very dry reading as well as lengthening it significantly), Horne zeros in on the interesting highlights. However, Horne does not neglect the intervening periods but provides information on transitional developments. He also includes anecdotes and events that in the grand scheme of things may not be significant but that a reader may appreciate knowing for their intrinsic interest. ( )

This shouldn’t be the first book you read about the history of Paris. Horne name-checks so many people and places that it helps to know your way around already. Instead, the best use for this book is as an enjoyable, anecdotal refresher.
It’s a challenge to pack two thousand years of history between the covers of one book, even at 477 pages, and one that at times overwhelms Horne’s narrative skill. There is no doubt of his masterful erudition, but repetitions and nonsequiturs abound. Nor is Horne skillful in constructing paragraphs. Many are chunks of information without the shaping that helps the reader sense which are the main ideas and which the subordinate clauses.
As for his writing style: those of his metaphors that were not cliché were confusing. Sometimes both a once. In recounting the “events” of May 1968, Horne writes: “The strike spread like a brushfire in a heat-wave summer.” This caused me to stop and try to recall whether there had been extreme heat in 1968.
On the whole, Horne views history as the chronicle of the deeds of great men. Five of his seven ages have their respective sections named after a ruler (Philippe Auguste, Henri IV, Louis XIV, Napoléon, de Gaulle). In addition, he shares the “Parisian fallacy”: the history of France is the history of Paris and vice versa. This combination results, in the early chapters, in a focus on successive Capetian kings, not all of whom were particularly interested in Paris or spent much time there. It’s as if nothing of importance happened in Paris in those years.
In addition to kings (and their mistresses), the text offers a cavalcade of other personalities, famous and infamous: great ministers Sully, Richelieu, Mazarin, and Colbert; dramatists Corneille, Racine, and Molière; novelists Balzac, Hugo and Flaubert. Other evocative names are Manon Lescaut, Ninon de Lenclos, Scaramouche, and Cartouche. Unfortunately, some are little more than name-checked.
A partial balance to Horne’s predilection for “great man history,” is his sensitivity to the condition of those below: the numerous poor crammed into squalid unhygienic slums at the periphery. Many upheavals of French history, 1789 and 1870, for example, erupted when their suffering and resentment boiled over. Horne then notes how, when the society returned to normal, it was the upper bourgeoisie that profited, not the proletariat.
My first impression of Horne’s lyrical conclusion, which lists Parisian women down through the ages from Héloïse to Piaf, was that it was in the same vein as his concern for the plight of the proletariat. But when he subsumes them as successive embodiments of Marianne, the iconic symbol of Paris, this seems to correspond with his “great man” view of history. Paris is the ever-lasting female these heroes wooed and for whose love they risked their great deeds.
Understandably, a city with such a hold on the imagination of many inspires such fanciful flights. Instead of a woman, my image of Paris is that it is the world’s largest open-air museum, which repays the time spent there with ever-changing perceptions. Just as I never tire of visiting it, I never tire of reading about it. Despite the book’s drawbacks, overall I enjoyed this vast compendium of Parisian lore. ( )

Seven Ages of Paris by Alistair Horne (2003)

I truly wish I was planning a trip to Paris sometime soon, as this is the perfect book to read before exploring that famous city. Rich in history, the author provides a compelling account of how Paris evolved over the centuries into the beautiful city of today. Going back to its ancient roots and delving to details like fashion, culture, and even its most famous cemetery, this is a great read on Paris and France as a nation. ( )