I first encountered Mark Helprin when I read his beautiful, magical book, Winter's Tale, many years ago. It utterly transfixed me, and took me into a completely different world. I read a few of his other books over the years and they didn't quite move or touch me the same way, but I still marveled at his storytelling, as it's sometimes much harder to tell a story rooted in reality than in a fantasy world.

Helprin's latest book, Paris in the Present Tense, definitely drew me in from the very beginning. It has an old-fashioned feel, yet I mean that in the most complimentary way. It really reminded me of one of Ward Just or William Maxwell's books, full of rich character development, reflections on life and mortality, and the travails of the human heart.

"Music is the voice of God (when done properly)."

Jules Lacour is 74 years old. He is a cellist, a veteran, a Holocaust survivor, a father and grandfather, and a man who deeply misses his late wife. He has never pursued the path of financial comfort, but he has never regretted it more than when he learns that his two-year-old grandson is suffering from leukemia. He wishes he had the money to help pay for Luc's treatments. How he decides to obtain that money is one of the main threads of the story, and it carries quite a wallop!

This book is a fascinating study of emotion and mood, a look at a man who doesn't believe you should stop being outspoken because you grow older. Helprin explores how racism and anti-semitism are attitudes still carried by many people, in Paris and elsewhere in the world, despite the destruction it has wrought.

Don't worry that this is simply a brooding, heavy story, however; Jules is a fascinating, complex character—at times irascible and cranky, at times flirtatious and romantic. He is deeply philosophical and there is a great deal of discussion about the importance of music in his life, which is something I share. There are just so many facets to this man and his story that kept me reading, even when the pacing slowed down a little more than I would have hoped.

Paris in the Present Tense is full of dialogue you'll want to read over and over again to be sure you didn't miss a beat, evocative imagery, and an incredible sense of place—I felt Paris around me at times when reading it. I'm still not 100 percent sure if the entire book worked for me as a whole, but Helprin's storytelling made it a book to savor. Amazingly thought-provoking.

NetGalley and W.W. Norton & Company provided me an advance copy of the book in exchange for an unbiased review. Thanks for making this available!

Ending the year on a high note (pun intended — this book is about a cellist). I love the way Mark Helprin thinks and writes, not to mention some of the most romantic writing from a man I can recall. He also has a way of creating very vivid characters for whom I have great sympathy. The story took some unexpected twists, a quality I always appreciate.

This beautiful story with exquisite writing, is both uplifting and heartbreaking. Helprin's writing is philosophical and lyrical; he seems to make use of every figure of speech know to mankind.
His command of language makes this book delightful and engrossing to read, but it also makes the narrative very dense. It was not a book I could read for hours at a time. It was a book I read slowly to enjoy and process the beauty of Helprin's narrative.

This is the story of Jules, a 74-year-old Jewish man who, as a four year old in 1944, had hidden from Nazis and seen his parents murdered by SS.
He has many regrets, and although he had a beautiful family, feels guilty for being alive.
Music is his life and he hears music in everything. The beauty of Helprin's language when speaking of music, love, beauty, or physical activity is mesmerizing.
Highly, highly recommended!

Thanks to the publisher and Netgalley for an eARC of this book.
Despite the excellent writing and the interesting subject, there were just too many places were I lost interest. Maybe shorter, maybe less verbiage......I didn't hate it but I found it a slog in too many places.

BOOKFILTER REVIEW: As a long-time fan of Mark Helprin, I hoped his new novel would be a return to form. Not quite. Perhaps it's unfair but the romantic style he typically employs on novels just isn't suited to stories set in the present. (In the distant past, I felt his short stories were diamond-sharp and quite distinct from his writing in the novels.) Unfortunately, despite some flashbacks to WW II, this novel is set in contemporary France and ultimately devolves into an insurance scam of all things. When tinged with fantasy and set in an alternate NYC, I can savor Helprin's style, where every hero is brave and true and smart and stoic and pure of heart while the women he loves are angels that glow with purity and grace and joy and lightness. But when you're talking about a cellist and his late wife or one of his students -- people of today -- it feels almost absurd. I can't help...resisting, when one of the pleasures of his writing in the past was the pleasure of giving in to old-fashioned plotting and a high-blown style perfect for knights and days of old. Here, I kept thinking of Ayn Rand or Nietzsche's superman, and not in a good way. Moment to moment, this story of a cellist forced into desperate action when his grandchild is stricken with a dreadful disease has insight and humor and lovely passages to offer. But instead of being elevated by the prose, ultimately it is weighed down. TV philosophers, multi-national conglomerates, email -- it all feels far too pedestrian a setting for his concerns. I think I prefer Helprin in the past tense. -- Michael Giltz

I had a hard time getting into this book. Since I did not finish it, I do not intend to publish a review.

Mark Helprin's new novel, Paris in the Present Tense, is a dazzling work of fiction featuring Jules Lacour, a seventy-four-old cellist. Jules teaches as an adjunct at the Sorbonne and lives in flat in a luxurious mansion. Lacour's wife died years ago, and his only family is his daughter, Catherine, her husband, David, and grandson, Luc. Luc is only two years old and struggling with leukemia. The story begins with a dinner discussion between Jules and his lifelong friend, Francois, who is a world-renowned philosopher. The conversation turns to money. Jules regrets never pursuing avenues of income that would put him in a position where he could now help his grandson get advanced treatment for his disease, in Switzerland or the United States. There is a prolonged discussion of the importance of living a life not concerned with money, but rather with art and nature, love and beauty. Francois does give Jules an idea for making money and the narrative arc moves toward the goal of money and proving his worth by providing for Catherine and Luc.

The rest of the novel took me on a voyage of surprises and delights of how Jules views life, much different than most of us, providing for him a way to compose beautiful music. Jules travels to the USA in a misadventure, pursuing a large sum of money for a composition and the plot changes abruptly when he is running in Central Park. Jules eventually creates an elaborate plan to fund Luc's treatment, and the reader watches as events unfold.

Helprin writes strongly about anti-Semitism in France, and as a Holocaust survivor, Jules is determined to get Catherine, her husband, David, and Luc to a country where attacks on Jews is not as prevalent as in France. I'm afraid that in light of current events, this is wishful thinking, but admirable for a father.

Jules sees himself as a failure in life, no prominent academic appointment or international fame as a performing cellist for all his life's work. He loved his wife Catherine with a passion that he maintains today and yet, it seems, he may have failed there as well. Jules does ultimately find redemption, in a manner, many of us might not be willing to sacrifice. I suppose for the readers of this novel; the question is whether Jules is a hero or a fool.

Thank you to NetGalley, Mark Helprin, and Overlook Press for the opportunity to read this e-ARC (publication 10/3).

Mark Helprin is a new author to me, but after reading Paris in the Present Tense, I'll be looking for his previous books to read next; he is a gifted author. The unlikely hero of this novel, Jules Lacour, is an elderly (74) French Jewish cellist and professor of music who escaped the Holocaust as a young child. His beloved wife has recently died, and he feels adrift as he goes about his daily routine, a large part of which includes much exercise in order to keep fit "just in case" - as a Jew in contemporary France, one never knows when fitness and fleetness of foot might be needed. A chance encounter from a bridge in Paris one night sets in motion a series of events which alter his life trajectory, enriching it in many ways, and placing him in some danger. How he copes with these unanticipated events comprises most of the rest of the book. Along the way, Jules rediscovers a capacity to love in surprising relationships, and learns how he can protect those he loves best. A series of flashbacks provides a background of what life was like for French Jews who were lucky enough to go into hiding during WW II and the often tragic endings suffered. The ending of the book is an elegant tying together of many strands and a testament to the humanity and intelligence of its hero.

I loved the author's In Sunlight and in Shadow, and was excited to receive an ARC from Net Galley. He did not disappoint. His wonderful writing and his sense of place and historical context made this a wonderful read. The protagonist was well-defined and the plot well-paced. I could not put this down and the denouement was spot-on, with perhaps a few coincidences.