Book Review: Anna and the French Kiss by Stephanie Perkins


Anna and the French Kiss

Stephanie Perkins

Barnes and Noble



Anna is looking forward to her senior year in Atlanta, where she has a great job, a loyal best friend, and a crush on the verge of becoming more. Which is why she is less than thrilled about being shipped off to boarding school in Paris–until she meets Étienne St. Clair. Smart, charming, beautiful, Étienne has it all…including a serious girlfriend.

But in the City of Light, wishes have a way of coming true. Will a year of romantic near-misses end with their long-awaited French kiss?

My Thoughts

This is literally the most DELICIOUS book I have ever read.

This book is for anyone who has ever had a crush.

This book paints the most realistic love story I have ever read.

I fell completely, head over heels in love with the love brewing between Anna and Etienne St. Clair. I am so glad that they started out as friends. How they got to know eachother on so many levels. I learned that that is the best basis for love ever. I love how they secretly loved eachother from the beginning. I love the glimpses we got when Etienne let slip that he loves Anna. I love how Anna had to secretly pine over him because he had a girlfriend. I love how easily they could talk to eachother. I love how in sync they were. I love how I learned what love wasn’t – and that’s Anna’s projected ‘love’ of Toph. I adored the Parisien setting.

This book is hands-down the best romance novel I have ever read in my entire life.

Favorite Quotes

“The more you know who you are, and what you want, the less you let things upset you.”

“Is it possible for home to be a person and not a place?”

“For the two of us, home isn’t a place. It is a person. And we are finally home.”

“I wish friends held hands more often, like the children I see on the streets sometimes. I’m not sure why we have to grow up and get embarrassed about it.”

“Madame Guillotine gets mad at me. Not because I told them to shove it, but because I didn’t say it in French. What is wrong with this school?”- (Literally made me laugh out loud so hard!)






He’s beautiful. She doesn’t even know if he knows it. His eyes are so pretty, pretty, pretty, like dew drops. His smile breaks off in his face like the first light of the sun in the summer, and her heart blooms and blossoms and succumbs like the fluttery flowers in spring.

She is so dreadfully, horribly, hauntingly, helplessly in love with him. And he doesn’t even know it.

When their eyes meet from across the room, it’s like an electric shock to her veins, her thick blood melting; it suffocates the words in her throat, bubbling, struggling, to come out. And her brain just stops working. She loses any idea of who she is and where she is and what she’s saying when he’s looking at her, and she’s frozen in the headlights that are his eyes. She’s rendered mute, immobile.

She’s tripping over her words like they’re elusive butterflies and she’s choking on nonsensities, and she can’t speak, can’t breathe, she’s so terrified. Terrified that he’ll see it. That just one look at her and she’ll melt, a buttery pastry mess all over the floor and right at his feet.

But he never sees. He’ll never know.

She doesn’t even want him to smile at her. If he smiles that smile at her, her eyes will widen like great big discs of I-Like-You and her tongue will be a useless flap stuck in her mouth.

She curses her naivete. He’ll never love her. Too many other people love him, people smarter, and funner, and funnier, and more good looking, and more outspoken than herself. She can’t cap her feelings in a jar and translate them into words, they’ll turn into birds and flap away and desert her mouth, an empty cage.

Maybe she has a thing for leader-type guys. He can handle a crowd, and when he speaks, people listen. But he’s a goofball, and he’s funny, and she’s discovered his wry, dry humor and sharp wit.

Electric. Her attraction to him is electric and one day it’ll set her on fire and burn her up, burn her out, until there’s nothing left but smoke and flame and tears and regret.

But that same electricity kindles her heart, that burning hope that pulsates inside her, that lovesick warmth that radiates within her, that comes from exchanging just a few words with and him giving her that smile of friendliness and respect, leaving her all gooey and syrupy and melting inside.

He just has to look at her, and her heart stops, skips a beat. Her love for him is squeezing her heart painfully in its iron tight grip and it’ll never let her go. But she needs to let him go.

Because he’ll never feel one ounce, one droplet, one cinder, of the all-encompassing, tumultuous, terrible, overpowering, interminable love she holds for him.