It seems like another life... UC Berkeley, my alma mater! As an undergrad at Berkeley I did a double major--in political science and Italian--and wound up living in France, writing about culture, history, food, wine and travel... UC Berkeley is a great university and I wish I had the means to support it in material ways. Maybe one day! In the meantime, I was flattered when a fellow graduate, Claire Chabat, interviewed me her in Paris and reviewed my book of essays. The interview is on page 4 of the spring 2011 issue of the Alumni magazine for graduates living in France... but I only discovered it today, 8 months late... Here's the text. To see the magazine as a PDF, please click on the embedded link at the end of the review.
Book Review of “Paris, Paris” by David Downie
Claire Chabat
#2, April 2011
A UC Berkeley graduate, journalist and writer, David Downie left San Francisco 20 years ago only to find himself intoxicated by Paris. In his re-issued book, the gourmet and travel journalist merge with the writer to conjure up new unexpected “clichés” of Paris, with nods to history, literature and architecture. Between the “Spleen” and “Ideal”, David Downie swings like an American in Paris.
An “A” student whilst at Berkeley, scholar and journalist David Downie is also a writer, and one, it seems, who walks to write, and writes to walk. He has lived in Paris for the past 20 years and has written about the city for dozens of publications around the world. For all the Spleen and Ideal, he called Paris home after falling in love with a French woman.
"Old Paris is gone",
Baudelaire wrote in the Swan.
"No human heart changes half
as fast as a city's face ” When reading “Paris, Paris: A Journey into the City of Light”, you can easily imagine David Downie walking through Paris with fellow novelists Baudelaire, Zola and Balzac in mind or films such as Irma la Douce playing behind his eyes. His literary yet quirky musings are collected in this book to be reissued on 5 April 2011 as part of Broadway Books’ prestigious “Armchair Traveler” series. This could well be the perfect companion guide for American tourists in search of hidden gems in Paris.
David describes himself as “a food, wine and travel writer who benignly scours the big cities and back roads of France and Italy in search of the authentic and unadulterated”. Between France and Italy, he wrote travel, food and arts features for magazines and newspapers worldwide.
Also a European correspondent for Gadling.com, he is the author of a dozen non-fiction books and two thrillers, including La Tour de l’Immonde.
Whilst writing “Paris, Paris”, his labour of love, he unconsciously walked in the footsteps of Restif de la Bretonne and his account of revolutionary Paris in Les Nuits de Paris ou le Spectateur nocturne (1788-1794, 8 volumes). However, David was not aware of his predecessor until recently, and proudly belongs to another literary tradition, that of American writers traveling to Paris in search of the unheard and the unseen.
“Paris, Paris” garnered rave reviews.
“Downie brilliantly upholds the American expat tradition of portraying the City of Light with an original and endearing touch”, says John Flinn (Travel Editor, San Francisco Sunday Chronicle) whilst Jan Morris says that “Paris, Paris” is “perhaps the most evocative American book about Paris since a Moveable Feast”. Not surprisingly, David lives near Ile de la Cité or “Mount Olympus”, as he calls it, brushing shoulders with the ghosts of past residents like Baudelaire and Nerval.
“Paris, Paris” is a three-part collection of literary and picturesque essays on “Paris Places”, “Paris People” and “Paris Phenomena”. As such, the blood of his previous works, a cookbook, Cooking the Roman Way, and crime novel La Tour de l’Immonde can be found pulsing through the veins of “Paris, Paris”.
David’s style of writing is at turns journalistic and poetic. He relishes puns, literary quotes, and evocative titles. Some of his observations are charming, such as when he imagines condescending architects drawing plans of Place des Vosges.
From horse chestnut trees to cataphiles to the history of réverbères, “Paris, Paris” conjures up a benevolent vision of both the old and new Paris.
“Sure, Paris is no paradise, though you might be excused for thinking so now and again, especially in the spring. The joyous, homespun rites of Le Printemps possess none of the primordial horror of Stravinsky's music, which seems to suit so many modern megalopolises to a tee.”
, and 
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