In Lawretta Egba’s An Escape to Paris, travelling is not just an act of leaving, but an act of arriving. It is arriving at a deeper sense of self, at clarity, at purpose, and at a version of our lives that might have slipped away if we’d stayed rooted in the familiar. Travel, as Thomas Jefferson says and as Egba reveals, is not done to escape one’s life but to ensure that life does not escape us. This memoir wraps her first encounter in Paris in a vivid, emotional bubble, highlighting the intensity, confusion, wonder and tenderness that colour her stay in the city of lovers.
Memoirs are pathways; they allow readers to walk, briefly, in the author’s footsteps. You are invited to see from their perspectives and witness experiences that are often ordinary in their details but extraordinary in their meaning. An Escape to Paris embraces this concept. It is short, expressive, and expansive. In its pages, Egba invites the reader to sit with her moments of fear, thrill, longing and revelation. She does not overwrite her experiences or underplay them. Instead, she gives us scenes and the feelings that accompany them as they occur. She allows her emotional landscape to guide us through the streets of Paris as surely as any map.
Paris, the capital of France, is a city known for its allure. It is more than a backdrop here; it’s a character. There are so many captivating histories lining the walls of her museums and streets. She walks us through her experience as a tourist in this memoir, showing how far adventure and curiosity can take us as humans. Paris delights, scares, and reveals truths about the author’s life, and if readers read between the lines, they can find something for themselves within its pages as well. She is a tourist, yes, but one who walks like a seeker. Her narration reveals how curiosity can lead us into parts of ourselves we did not know were waiting to be discovered.
Egba’s writing is thoroughly engaging and remarkably honest. There is an ease to her storytelling, a kind of conversational intimacy that makes her reflections relatable, regardless of whether one has ever set foot outside their country. She knows how to twist her readers into knots and then untangle them with moments of calm clarity. She pulls readers into her confusion and anticipation, and it becomes both the author’s and the reader’s job to find a resolution. The memoir begins in a place of doubt and uncertainty: Egba is unsure, hesitant, burdened by decisions that feel both urgent and overwhelming. Her detailed recounting of how she ultimately chooses Paris as an escape establishes an emotional anchor for the rest of the book. It is from this point of vulnerability that her journey gains its flavour.
Her stay in Paris becomes much more interesting once she connects with Niyi. Their brief but meaningful connection adds a soft thread of romantic possibility to the narrative. The “what could have been” quality of their bond is refreshing, not because it promises a grand love story, but because it reveals how much timing, geography, and circumstance shape the relationships we allow ourselves to consider. This part of the narrative adds a layer to Egba’s emotional experience in Paris, challenging readers to reflect on their own brief but meaningful encounters. Beneath all the emotions, Paris remains the thread that connects the story. Egba explores it with the wonder of a first-time visitor but writes about it with the depth of someone who has experienced more than a trip. She lets the city show her who she is when she is far from home and from the version of herself she has always known. On the pages, she captures her limitations: getting lost, not knowing enough French, and the unexpected. But she coats these barriers with a layer of boldness. She does not shy away or retreat. She walks, literally. She observes. She learns. And in doing so, she lives to tell the story.
Egba’s crisp writing is undeniably good, and it powers this story. The clarity of her voice, the pacing of her memories, and the emotional accessibility of her reflections all work together to create a narrative that feels intimate. It is this accessibility that makes An Escape to Paris resonate. The memoir does not try to be philosophical, yet it quietly delivers wisdom. It does not present itself as a transformative tale, yet by the final page, you find yourself touched by the hands of change, even if it’s for a spell. There is no chance you’ll leave the book worse than when you met it. And in following Egba through Paris, you’ll be reminded of the quiet, powerful ways that travel can shape the emotional landscapes of our lives.
