Knisley (French Milk, Relish) continues to own the travelogue/graphic novel genre by bringing her characteristic humor and heart to this memoir of a summer in Europe. Many of these sketches were also drawn while Knisley was on the move, so many are not as neat or clear as they could be. She then goes from complaining about being "too poor" to afford a Vespa to showing off her Christmas presents, including a new DSLR camera - a " little present" (emphasis mine) because of the holiday.

But there was no discussion of their relationship at all, and even the milk shows up late in the book -- strange for something that is, after all, the title image. temporal deixis is used to begin the text "started the day" frames it as a retelling of daily events. I remember from visiting other European countries that it's often UHT that's available and I'm not sure if the taste will be too different for him. Reading about the execution of Saddam Hussein she comments, "the world news is too harsh in its stark intrusion on our Parisian holiday", then says some especially nice cookies mean "humanity [has been] redeemed".It's the right mix of angst and hope and excitement and fear about the present and the future all at once.

If this was a significant part of her emotional growth, it should have been discussed in greater detail. Her FRENCH MILK aims to get a deeper understanding of how the French appreciate life, even to the smallest details like dairy, and how that affects her, the artist. My main issue has always been that, while she often states that she's going to explore an concept and make meaningful observations, she rarely delivers. You know, I think I would also feel like that if I went to Paris WITH MY MOM and MY MOM PAID FOR MY TRIP. Knisley takes us on an illustrated adventure set in Paris that had us craving cafe au lait and smoldering Frenchmen.

The term UHT is used in both English and French, but in French stands for upérisation à haute température. Most of them were blurry, and while I am sure that was purposeful, it made the book as a whole sort of look sloppy. Sometimes the print was so small, as if it was just a photo copy of her actual travel journal notes. She also exhibits a particular pride and faith in her work (with the occasional doubts), one that I still struggle with in my early thirties.

I'd recommend this book for anyone who's interested in Paris (and food and drinks and clothes and books). The closest we get to drama or character development is the artist acting completely and somehow uninsightfully self-absorbed, or complaining about wanting to have sex with her boyfriend.Curious how that works when a free, all-expenses-paid holiday to Paris didn't make her stop whining about wanting to have sex with her boyfriend, not fitting into shoes causes a strop and the Moulin Rouge not living up to her expectations made her "depressed" - I hate when that word is trivialised by people who think their non-problems are comparable to serious mental illness.

several reviews i have read seem to take offense that a visual diary from a young woman in her early 20s appears to be written by a young woman in her early 20s (whiny, self-indulgent, not really cognizant of her social and class position). if reading this brings back happy memories of college days and travel and such butterfly-like self-explorations, then you will probably enjoy this. France is after all a country that’s known for putting taste before pretty much anything when it comes to food, so why favour a type of milk that’s generally less delicious and refreshing than the fresh stuff? Knisley's photographs from the trip punctuate sketches of her daily adventures and musings about graduating from art school, first love and having an adult relationship with her mother.To calculate the overall star rating and percentage breakdown by star, we don’t use a simple average. Belgium and Spain favour UHT overwhelmingly whereas in Greece and Finland it accounts for just one and two percent of milk sales respectively. Her weak defence of eating foie gras, along the lines of "being force-fed to death is a relatively pleasant way to go", irritated me quite a bit. I've been a fan of Lucy Knisley's since probably around 2007, actually, which is when she published this travelogue of her time in Paris with her mother, when both of them were celebrating special birthdays.