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Last Christmas in Paris: A Novel of World War I
Last Christmas in Paris: A Novel of World War I
Last Christmas in Paris: A Novel of World War I
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Last Christmas in Paris: A Novel of World War I

Rating: 4.5 out of 5 stars

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An unforgettably romantic novel that spans four Christmases (1914-1918), Last Christmas in Paris explores the ruins of war, the strength of love, and the enduring hope of the Christmas season.

New York Times bestselling author Hazel Gaynor has joined with Heather Webb to create this unforgettably romantic novel of the Great War.

August 1914. England is at war. As Evie Elliott watches her brother, Will, and his best friend, Thomas Harding, depart for the front, she believes—as everyone does—that it will be over by Christmas, when the trio plan to celebrate the holiday among the romantic cafes of Paris.

But as history tells us, it all happened so differently…

Evie and Thomas experience a very different war. Frustrated by life as a privileged young lady, Evie longs to play a greater part in the conflict—but how?—and as Thomas struggles with the unimaginable realities of war he also faces personal battles back home where War Office regulations on press reporting cause trouble at his father’s newspaper business. Through their letters, Evie and Thomas share their greatest hopes and fears—and grow ever fonder from afar. Can love flourish amid the horror of the First World War, or will fate intervene?

Christmas 1968. With failing health, Thomas returns to Paris—a cherished packet of letters in hand—determined to lay to rest the ghosts of his past. But one final letter is waiting for him…

LanguageEnglish
PublisherHarperCollins
Release dateOct 3, 2017
ISBN9780062562692
Author

Hazel Gaynor

Hazel Gaynor is an award-winning New York Times and USA Today bestselling author known for her deeply moving historical novels which explore the defining events of the 20th century. A recipient of the 2015 RNA Historical Novel of the Year award, her work has since been shortlisted for multiple awards in the UK and Ireland. Her latest novel, The Last Lifeboat, was a Times of London historical novel of the month, shortlisted for the 2023 Irish Book Awards and a 2024 Audie Award finalist. Hazel’s work has been translated into twenty languages and is published in twenty-seven territories to date. She lives in Ireland with her family.

Read more from Hazel Gaynor

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  • Rating: 4 out of 5 stars
    4/5
    In 1968, fifty years after the end of the “war to end all wars”, terminally ill Thomas Harding is travelling to Paris, determined to fulfil a last promise and to lay to rest the ghosts of the past. He is taking with him a collection of cherished letters which were written during the years of 1914-1918. Most of these letters were exchanged between Tom and Evie Elliot, the younger sister of Tom’s best friend Will, with whom he had idealistically volunteered in August 1914. They also include correspondence between Evie and her brother, letters to her best friend Alice, and exchanges of letters between Tom and his father, owner of a London newspaper and various people employed by his father. With only occasional, brief switches to the 1968 timeline, it is through this four-year exchange of letters that the reader is shown how this long-lasting, brutal war affected each of the characters. It demonstrated the many ways in which people are changed by their experiences throughout life, but how this natural process is accelerated and exaggerated during a war, when everything becomes more urgent, more fragile and more precious. As well as evoking the truly dreadful horrors of trench-combat during World War I, it captured how the enthusiastic idealism and patriotism of the early months of the war was gradually eroded when the realities of such a brutal, long-lasting war became apparent. The massive social changes which took place during those four years, especially for women, were interwoven into the story-telling in a convincing way, without ever becoming polemically overwhelming. The explorations of family loyalties and expectations, and how these can shift very rapidly during times of crisis, were all authentically conveyed. However, I don’t want to reveal anything specific about what happens during the shared correspondence between Tom and Evie because the power of the story lies in the gradual revelation of the many ways in which they, and other characters, change during the long years of that dreadful war. The use of the characters to demonstrate how people learnt to cope with loss, in all its forms, whilst still trying to retain hope, not only felt credible, but also felt almost unbearably heart-breaking at times. I loved the epistolary format of this moving and memorable story, mainly because it offered a real sense of intimacy with the characters, making them, and all their hopes and fears, come alive in ways which felt totally convincing. As a result, when I had finished the story I felt a real sense of loss at having to let them go. It also made me reflect on the fact that the real letters which were exchanged between servicemen and their families during the war provided such a rich resource for the authors to explore how the war affected ordinary people. I’m sure this made a huge contribution to the fact that each of the characters, and their individual experiences, felt so authentic and credible. I find myself wondering whether, with the more ephemeral nature of correspondence using modern technology, the minutiae of people’s everyday experiences will survive for future generations to look back on and learn from? It seems astonishing to me that these two authors didn’t meet face to face until half way through their shared writing project; knowing that it was a joint authorship I had wondered whether I would be able spot any differences in style, but I didn’t. I don’t know exactly how they decided to share out the writing of the story, but what I do know is that together they achieved a remarkable, cohesive and seamless whole.
  • Rating: 5 out of 5 stars
    5/5
    Beautiful, gorgeous, tre magnifique!
    It was all I could ask for and more. My heart was so involved that their hardships felt like my hardships, their triumphs my triumphs, their darkest days and hopeful nights, my own despair and star wishes set free into the night sky. It reminds us of dark days past but how even with all the living nightmares being struggled through, the most beautiful and fragile thing in the world was still able to be found. A wonderful story for Historical Fiction fans filled with characters to love and OH so much heart.


    *copy received for review
  • Rating: 4 out of 5 stars
    4/5
    I find novels written in letters beyond charming and this World War I novel was charming. It very much reminded me of The Guernsey Literary and Potato Peel Pie Society in that two charming characters fall in love with each from a distance. Evie is a young woman with too much energy to be pent up at home while her brother and his best friend goes off to war. She starts writing them both immediately, trying to keep their spirits up and live vicariously through them. She's stuck at home attending tea parties, knitting scarves for soldiers, and writing the most humorous and heartfelt letters to Will (her brother) and Tom (his best friend). As the years progress and the tone of the war changes, she starts to find herself falling for Tom, but she's pretty sure it's one sided. What would Tom ever see in his best friend's younger sister? Romantic, thrilling, and full of wit and charm, this novel will be sure to charm readers.
  • Rating: 5 out of 5 stars
    5/5
    In 1969 Tom Harding makes a final trip to Paris for Christmas. While he is there he re-reads all the letters sent between 1914 and 1918. In 1914, Evie Elliot's brother, Will and best friend, Tom leave for the Front. Evie diligently writes to both of them. In their letters, the three divulge their greatest wishes, fears, and emotions. Most of all, they all wish for the war to be over by Christmas so they may celebrate the holiday in Paris. Little do they know how much the War will change all of them. An all at once heartwarming and heartbreaking story of love and loss during World War I. Told almost entirely in letter exchanges between Evie and her loved ones, this book completely enveloped me as I devoured every word. There was so much passion in the writing, especially the letters between Thomas and Evie, I felt as if these could be two real people. I felt like I was immersed into their most intimate moments and my heart raced for when they would finally declare their love for one another. Through the letters, I was able to see the impact of the war from all sides. Through Evie, I got a sense of how it felt to be left behind, the worry, dread and depression of fearing that your loved ones may not come home and the overwhelming urge to do something about it. Through Tom, the gruesome depictions of the Front that the media wouldn't let anyone know of as well as the mental toll that war takes on the soldiers. Also, through Evie's exchanges with her friend Alice, we learn of the many ways that women jumped in to help from delivering the mail, to nursing and driving ambulances to the Auxillary Corps and even writing newspaper articles. What affected me most was Tom's re-reading of the letters and his opening of the final letter at the end. Overall, a wonderfully written historical novel reminding me of the sacrifices made by our veterans. This book was received for free in return for an honest review.
  • Rating: 4 out of 5 stars
    4/5
    So beautiful, so heart breaking. The most sumptuous prose.
  • Rating: 5 out of 5 stars
    5/5
    I have just finished this book and I'm trying to keep my emotions in check. No I'm not going to be able to write without crying. I loved the way the author tells the story through letters between characters. You get to know each character and it is easy to fall in love with them. The details of the war were vivid and I could feel the pain and suffering as the letters were sent back and forth. It is hard to imagine the war raging in 1914 and the trials people went through. So many lives lost and deep sorrow overwhelming for families. Evie is definitely my favorite character. Her heart is so sincere and I love how the author shows her determination to help in someway during the war. Women were mostly used to nurse the injured, supply socks for the troops and keep the home running. Evie has other plans. Her spunk is very refreshing and I loved how her letters to Tom were filled with encouragement and dare I say , infatuation? Evie I applaud you for your love for mankind and your sense of duty to help during the war. Tom is Evie's brother's best friend. As both her brother and Tom are shipped out to serve in the war, a correspondence starts between Evie and Tom. I loved his fierceness and protectiveness Tom had towards Evie. As I read the letters between them I wanted so much for them to reunite and live happily ever after. But as the war rages on, it seems impossible for them to meet up. I love how they share very intimate thoughts and open up to each other. The story takes readers to a war that was hard fought and the lives that were changed by it. I loved the surprises in the story. It is filled with some emotional moments that grab your heart and squeeze as you feel tears stream down your face. Don't miss this wonderful book and share in the lives between Evie , Tom and others. Will there be a wedding between anyone? Can they all survive the war? Thank you for writing a book that takes us from 1914 to the late 1960s as we follow characters that fill the pages with strength, love and dedication.I received a copy of this book from The Goodreads Giveaway program. The review is my own opinion.
  • Rating: 4 out of 5 stars
    4/5
    I used to write and receive a lot of letters. I am sad to say that I have let that go by the wayside for the most part, only writing a Christmas letter anymore. Early on in my letter writing career though, I used to keep every letter I ever received. I think I had some sense that if any of my long distance friends became famous, it would be good to have their words for posterity. Yes, I was a weird kid, honestly thinking about this before I even hit double digits! So far none of the friends I spent years writing to have become famous though, which is probably a good thing since their letters have long since found their way to the recycle bin. When you move a million times, unfortunately there's just no good justification for holding onto all of these sentimental things. It actually does make me a little sad thinking about all those lost words sent specifically to me though. Although epistolary novels aren't written to me specifically, I do still love reading through the letters in them and appreciating the idea of all those words tied up in ribbon for posterity so I was delighted to read Hazel Gaynor and Heather Webb's new WWI novel, Last Christmas in Paris.Opening in 1968 with an ill and elderly Tom Harding making plans to go to Paris for his last Christmas where he plans to open one last letter, the bulk of the novel is a collection of letters and telegrams from WWI arranged, with one notable exception, in chronological order. When WWI is declared, Evie Elliott promises to write to her beloved older brother Will and his best friend, also a friend of hers, Tom Harding. Tom writes back consistently while Will is a less reliable pen pal. The 1914 letters are buoyant and certain of a quick finish to the war with Evie reminding Tom that the two of them, Will, and Evie's close friend Alice will reunite in Paris for Christmas. As the war continues on, the letters take a darker turn, showing the melancholy and despair that crept in but also showing as Evie and Tom opened up their very souls to each other. Evie not only reminds Tom of the good about the home front, but she also details the frustrations of not being able to do anything substantial (she's an appalling knitter) and the way that small but important opportunities start to open up to the women left behind in order to free more men to fight. Tom's letters tell of his anguish at losing his men and his friends as well as some of the truths that the government is suppressing in order to keep support and morale high at home. Other letters, beyond Evie and Tom's, add substantially to the plot as well. Evie writes to her friend Alice, a woman who enlists as an ambulance driver and nurse near the front, adding to Evie's feeling of being trapped and useless at her family's home but offering another perspective of "the war to end all wars." Tom's father's accountant, who is trying to help Tom keep the family newspaper, The London Daily Times, afloat while Tom is mired in mud at the front and Harding Sr. is ill writes to him about various issues with war time reporting, conflicts with Tom's cousin over the running of the paper, and his father's decline. More letters, to or from others, are sprinkled throughout the novel as well. The epistolary nature of the novel makes for a limited view and few side plots but the letters outside of the bounds of Evie and Tom's correspondence allow the reader to see beyond their own cautious, carefully considered words to each other and see them falling in love through words even if they remain uncertain of each others' depth of feeling. The early letters are naive and hopeful while the later letters show the progress of the war in their aching and uncertainty, freighted with so much that cannot be said. The novel is emotionally full despite the restraint in the letters themselves. Students of history will anticipate some of the events and will cringe as they read certain place names in Evie's letters, making the tale both personal and global. The novel shows the importance and power of words and represents the "un-silencing" of women at home through Evie's newspaper column. It touches on the emotional cost of war, for soldiers and civilians, beyond the obvious loss through death. Jumping back to 1968 and Tom's need to be in Paris at Christmas to read the last letter following each succeeding year of war time letters reminds the reader that life, full of all its attendant love and sorrow, has gone on after the atrocities that played out in France, not once but twice. Evie and Tom are characters with whom the reader will find it easy to become invested and the history is well researched and included organically. Frustratingly, Tom's rancor and lack of trust towards his cousin John is mentioned obliquely many times but the history of these feelings is never quite revealed, a newer incident being the stand-in for why he's not all he appears. And a final surprise toward the end of the novel isn't really much of a surprise for astute readers. The novel is well-written and engaging and will definitely suit epistolary novel fans, those who enjoy reading about WWI, and general historical fiction buffs.
  • Rating: 5 out of 5 stars
    5/5
    In August, 1914, England was at war and many men joined up to fight the Germans in a war that they believed would be over by Christmas. Left behind in England were the families of the soldiers who were proud of their men for going off to war. Four years later, the war still raged on and instead of joy and hope, the families in England and the soldiers themselves were full of despair and depression. Last Christmas in Paris provides an up close look at the families and the soldiers during this 'war to end all wars'.This novel, written by Hazel Gaynor and Heather Webb is told almost entirely by letters. Most of the letters are between Evie and Thomas, her brother's best friend, but there are also letters between Evie and her brother Will, Evie and her best friend Alice and a few others. As the novel begins, Evie, Alice, Will and Thomas have plans to spend Christmas in Paris after the war is over but as the years and the war drags on those plans get left behind. The happy young people at the beginning are soon worn out with the constant bad news from the front and they realize that this war will take a toll on them both physically and mentally. Thomas longs to get home due to issues with his father's business and Evie yearns for a way that she can do more to help the war effort than by knitting gloves. As the letters between Evie and Thomas continue, they grow closer to each other and begin to fall in love. Will their love be able to overcome all that is going on in their worlds?This was a fantastic book. By using letters, the reader could learn more about the personalities of the letter writers, their feeling with what was going on and their hope for their futures. I loved getting to know these characters and learning more about WWI. Be prepared, there will be tears so have Kleenex close to you.Thanks to the publisher for a copy of this book to read and review. All opinions are my own.
  • Rating: 5 out of 5 stars
    5/5
    Absolutely sublime. A greatove story , a coming of age story and a friends ro.lovers story. Fantastic prose.

    Recommended : ? ?
  • Rating: 5 out of 5 stars
    5/5
    Very moving, well written from a women’s perspective. Would recommend it.
  • Rating: 5 out of 5 stars
    5/5
    I couldn’t stop reading, had to know how it ended . It is so much easier to imagine the effects of such a terrible war when told through the eyes of 1 or 2 families. It really brings the history books to life. I want to read more like this. Excellent read!
  • Rating: 3 out of 5 stars
    3/5
    I've been longing to read Last Christmas in Paris for what feels like ages and what better time than in the run up to Christmas? In actual fact, this is not a book with any real Christmas feels at all and so I would recommend it as a read for any time, not just the festive season.This is a story that is told almost completely in letters. For the most part those letters are between Evelyn Elliott and Thomas Harding. The year is 1914, the First World War is new and although the pair have been friends since childhood (Thomas and Evie's brother, Will, are best friends) it's the onset of war that leads to them entering into a correspondence. At first the letters are fairly tentative and formal but as the war progresses a greater intimacy in the way they correspond comes about.If I'm completely honest, the epistolary format probably took away a lot of the emotion that I might have felt with a book such as this. The First World War usually tends to cause a lump in my throat if not full blown tears, but on this occasion I wasn't moved so strongly. I did, however, enjoy the letters as they flowed between Thomas and Evie, and also between Evie and Will, Thomas and the custodian of his father's newspaper, and Evie and her best friend, Alice, who becomes a nurse in France.It was interesting to view the war from the completely different perspectives. The soldiers were obviously dealing with the day to day horrors, whilst at home it hardly touches Evie, a quite privileged young woman, at all. I enjoyed how their story unfolded, punctuated at each year end between 1914-1918 with Tom in 1968 heading off for Christmas in Paris. There were a couple of points towards the end where I didn't know if the story was going to go one way or the other but I was pleased with how it was wound up. This book will definitely appeal to those who like epistolary books. For me it lacked the emotional punch I was expecting but it was still a lovely and romantic read.
  • Rating: 4 out of 5 stars
    4/5
    "The Last Christmas in Paris: A Novel of World War I" by Hazel Gaynor and Heather Webb is a beautifully written story of love, loss and hope during wartime. It's written mostly in letters and has a Downton Abbey feel to it. Ms. Webb and Ms. Gaynor give such a beautiful and moving portrayal of how war affects every aspect of one's life. They show this through the letters of a few young people. In the beginning of the war, the letters are full of excitement, a sense of adventure, pride and thoughts that the war won't last long. As one can imagine, the letters and the people in the letters change as the war gets more serious, moves closer to home and becomes a lot longer than everyone had anticipated. The characters have to share and communicate everything through these letters (and sometimes telegrams)--they didn't have our modern technology. Parts of the letters in the book are blacked out--showing how even the letters are censored. The large newspapers will show only the happy side of war and newspapers get in trouble and are censored for showing the truth. This fact made me really angry, as it does to Evie (one of our main characters), who takes up writing for one of the newspapers. There is such a contrast between the women's lives at home and what is actually happening on the front (as told by Evie's brother, Will, and his best friend, Thomas). We see the war through the eyes of this trio. Their emotions go from enthusiasm, to denial, to despair, and eventually to hope (and love makes its way in there too). I fell in love with the characters in this story, especially Evie and Thomas. I went through all the emotions they went through. At times, it was so heavy that I had to take a break from the book. But it's such a great story, that I still really wanted to know what happened to these characters and couldn't stop thinking about them, even when I wasn't reading. I love how Evie and Thomas become closer through letter writing and are able to say things that they wouldn't be able to say in person. Letters and the written word are so powerful. This is also shown through Evie's column that she writes for the war effort and the amazing response she gets. There are so many great themes in this books and important topics that are covered. This is not a light read, but it is so moving and beautiful. At times it is heart wrenching and I almost started crying (which I don’t often do with books). My heart was on my sleeve as I approached the ending–and it did not disappoint! I will certainly look at Christmas differently this year and will be thankful for peace, family and the opportunity to celebrate in freedom! Content: I give this novel a PG-13 rating. There is the use of minor swear words. The Lord's name is taken in vain. There is the mention of how women are treated on the war front and talk of prostitutes. There is a man with PTSD. A child is born out of wedlock.Rating: I give this book 4 stars.I want to thank Heather Webb, Hazel Gaynor, Historical Fiction Virtual Book Tours, William Morrow Publishers and Harper Collins Publishers for the complimentary copies of this book for review. I was not required to write a positive review. The opinions I express in this review are my own. This is in accordance with the Federal Trade Commission’s CFR 16, Part 255.
  • Rating: 4 out of 5 stars
    4/5
    I am a fan of both of these ladies. They make a great team. It was flawless as I could not tell which writer wrote which parts. If you are a fan of historical fiction than you will be in for a treat with this book. Instantly, I felt a connection with Evie, Thomas, and Will.Although, the story started off in letter format and Evie and Thomas never spent much time with each other physically, I felt as if they were closer than they ever could be through the letters they wrote each other. The letters were short and did not provide a lot of details and they skipped periods of time but this is what made the story good. It kept the story from being bogged down and moving along at a steady pace. Again, even though Evie and Thomas did not spent time with each time, they shared love for one another. The ending will touch your heart. Last Christmas in Paris is a heart warming story that will make you believe in true love. 
  • Rating: 5 out of 5 stars
    5/5
    MY REVIEW OF "LAST CHRISTMAS IN PARIS' by Hazel Gaynor and Heather Webb WOW! Can you imagine reading a book about "The Great War" World War 1, and not only absorb the devastation, emotional and physical distress of both the men and women involved, and yet feel the love, friendship, faith and hope?  Authors Hazel Gaynor and Heather Webb have teamed up to write "Last Christmas in Paris". The Genres of this book are Historical Fiction and Women's Fiction. with a dash of Romance. The timeline of this novel takes place during World War 1, a few years after and then in 1968. The story takes place in England, France, Paris and Scotland. I appreciate the authors' historical research to clarify the details during the war and this time period in history and the political events surrounding this. The authors describe the characters'  personalities, and how they change during these complex and complicated times. Evie Elliott, a headstrong and determined young women watches her brother Will and his friend Tom Harding leave for the front, they all believe that the war will be over be Christmas. They make a promise to meet in Paris for Christmas. The authors show through eloquent letters, how this promise is not to be for now. The descriptions through these letters depict a despicable war, the weapons, the destruction and loss, and conditions, The morale of the men is at an all time low, as the war goes on, and they depend on these letters as a lifeline of sorts. The women in England try to do their part by knitting, sending packages and letters. For Evie, this is not enough. Using a pen name she writes a column in the newspaper, describing how bad the circumstances are for the men and women, and what the women can do to be helpful. Evie and Thomas do keep a correspondence through writing , and each seems to find it difficult to express their true feelings of love. Is it possible for love to endure the circumstances of war? I found "Last Christmas in Paris" to be engaging and captivating and I would highly recommend it for readers who enjoy Historical Fiction, Women's Fiction and Romance. I received a copy of this book for my honest review.   
  • Rating: 4 out of 5 stars
    4/5
    Evie Elliott watches her brother Will and his best friend, Thomas, leave for Europe to serve in World War I. The three of them are very close and have never been separated. Evie is naive and believes that everyone will be together for a Christmas reunion in Paris. The three of them stay in contact via letters, and these communications become the fabric and timeline for the story. Evie is frustrated with her life as a young woman and is also unsettled with the lack of “real” news reported by the British government. She has an idea of the grim life as a soldier in France from Thomas’ letters. Evie channels her disappointment by writing a column for a local newspaper. As the war drags on, Thomas and Evie continue their correspondence while hoping for the elusive Christmas in Paris.This novel by Hazel Gaynor and Heather Webb was unique because the story is told in letter format spanning over several years. This book was collaboration between two authors living in different countries, and is a great read for those loving historical fiction.
  • Rating: 4 out of 5 stars
    4/5
    Last Christmas in Paris is a dual timeline story told predominantly through letters and telegrams. The majority of the letters are written between Evie Elliott and her brother Will’s best friend Thomas Harding. The authors do an incredible job describing the horrors of war both on the battlefield and at home while also detailing the relationship developing between Evie and Tom. The story unfolds at the right pace, and I was constantly turning pages to see what was going to happen next. My favorite parts of the book were that it was told through letters (I love stories told through correspondence) and the historical information that was included. Some of the World War 1 facts included are commonly known: the British and Germans singing carols on Christmas Day in 1914 and the British thinking the war would be short-lived; however, other facts were new to me. I didn’t realize that treatment for the mental anguish of war (PTSD but not named that during World War 1) existed that long ago. I think of that as a more modern phenomenon. I also was completely fascinated with (and somewhat horrified by) the Order of the White Feather, a woman’s group that made it their mission to shame those men who did or could not join the army to fight in World War 1; many men were working undercover or had been rejected for service for health reasons and still these awful women were indiscriminant in who they targeted. I knew that men who didn’t sign up to join the army were harassed, but I had no idea there was such a coordinated effort. It is very depressing that people are so quick to judge or condemn, and I found this group’s actions to be a good reminder of how an idea (in this case to try and recruit more soldiers) can go so completely awry.Last Christmas in Paris is a gem. Thanks to William Morrow for this ARC; all opinions are my own.
  • Rating: 4 out of 5 stars
    4/5
     A WWI novel written in letters between childhood friends. A young woman stuck at home in England, writes letters to her best friend, and her brother and his best friend who are at the front. A sweet story and a great road trip read since it’s so easy to stop between letters if needed. Technically a Christmas read, but much more somber than most. I felt like the depiction of a soldier’s time in the trenches was realistic.
  • Rating: 5 out of 5 stars
    5/5
    I chose the audiobook version of Last Christmas in Paris, as I often do for my book club selections. An epistolary novel, the audiobook had the advantage of numerous narrators to give voice to the characters. While my book club really liked the format of the novel, some of them struggled at first with keeping straight in their minds just who the letters were from. They admitted, though, it did not take long to become swept up in the story. The book focuses on the years of WWI and is set on the homefront of England and in the trenches and hospitals of France and Belgium. As can be expected the letters begin with all the optimism and enthusiasm of their youthful writers. It soon becomes apparent that the war will not be over quickly, and the letters take on a more sombre and serious tone — the characters are growing up. Evie and Thomas are the main letter writers, and their relationship grew in wonderful ways. My book club members remarked on the lost art of letter writing in today’s texting world. I loved how the authors combined the mundane life back in England ( the lost Christmas goose) and the realties of war in Europe (a Christmas Day truce with both British and German soldiers meeting in no-man’s land). The novel is at turns sweet and romantic and heartbreaking. One member stated she had a hard time reading the book because she cried so much! I didn’t cry, but found the book very moving and one that will last with me a long time.Last Christmas in Paris was a different sort of book for my book club this December, but one we really enjoyed. It created a great discussion along numerous lines. I highly recommend it.Highly Recommended.Audience: Adults.(I purchased both the paperback from Amazon and the audiobook from Audible. All opinions expressed are mine alone.)
  • Rating: 4 out of 5 stars
    4/5
    This story is told mostly through a series of letters between the main characters, Evelyn and Thomas, as well as a few others. It underscores the important of relationships during time of war and how the simple act of writing a letter can keep hope alive.Of course, I loved the main characters a must for me in most cases. I also enjoyed how the relationship between Evelyn and Thomas revolves over the course of the war just through their correspondence. The letters portray a real sense of longing and hope for the future. A feel good type of read with a sweet ending. This is an ideal book for Historical Romance readers.
  • Rating: 5 out of 5 stars
    5/5
    What a beautiful book "Last Christmas in Paris" turned out to be. I was hesitant at first about picking it up as it was written in letter format, but I listened to the audio version of it and the narrators brought it alive.The letters follow the lives of Tom, a young soldier and Evie, a budding journalist through the years of WWI with other letters to and from friends, acquaintances and loved ones. From the light-hearted letters at the start of the war to the heartbreaking ones as the war dragged on unheeding of the people it took, and the emotional and physical upheaval of the ones it left behind.I adored Evie, Tom, Alice and Will, although I hated John Hopper and his arrogance. Evie was such a wonderful character, and I admired her spunk and determination to be more than the lady of leisure her mother wanted her to be. Her newspaper articles were absolutely touching and showed the importance of women and their role in fighting the war. They brought me to tears every time.My heart bled for Tom as the fun, happy-go-lucky boy looking for adventure and determined to play his part in the war effort, gradually morphed into the emotionally damaged, disillusioned young man he became as the war relentlessly continued throughout the years. The atrocities he and his fellow soldiers had to face while in the trenches were brought home through his letters to Evie.Evie and Tom's romance was perfect. Their growing love was evident in the telegrams and letters that passed between them, and their correspondence provided a shining light to the other in a dark, dark time as innocence, hope, dreams and plans were destroyed. As for the ending, just beautiful!"Last Christmas in Paris" brought out a gamut of emotions as I followed Evie and Tom's journey. Heart-warming, heart-breaking, captivating and poignant, this was a wonderful story of love, loss, despair, courage and tragedy. For me, this book was a winner.
  • Rating: 5 out of 5 stars
    5/5
    An ARC was provided in exchange for an honest review. This did not influence my thoughts in any way.Last Christmas in Paris is historical fiction. It is also a love story. It takes place in England and France during the First World War. The story is told through written correspondence between Evie and Tom, childhood friends. The letters begin in 1914 and continue through to 1918, all the while describing in horrifying detail the atrocities of the war. This was a beautiful story... heartbreaking and real.

Book preview

Last Christmas in Paris - Hazel Gaynor

Prologue

Richmond, London

15th December, 1968

Life is forever changed without her; without the sense of her somewhere near. Empty hours wander by as I listen for the soft tread of her footfall on the stair and wait for her laughter to cheer these lifeless rooms. When I close my eyes I can conjure her; the scent of her perfume, the feather-touch of her fingertips against my cheek, those intense blue eyes looking back at me. But it is all illusion. Smoke and mirrors that conceal the truth of her absence.

I push myself up wearily from the chair, clutching my cane like an extra limb as I hobble to the window. Snow sprinkles from a soft grey sky, gathering in pockets along the river, quick to find shelter from the hungry waters of the Thames that flood the inlet behind the house. A skiff bobs to the gentle rhythm of the tide. It reminds me of how I rowed with such vigour as a young man, desperate to impress. I see her there still, sitting on the riverbank, skirt tucked behind her knees, laughing as she launches a stone and watches it sail higher and farther than the others, looping in a great arc and splashing me with its perfectly aimed descent into the water.

I see her everywhere. In everything. How can she not be here?

I feel for the necklace in my pocket, and remember how she loved to quote Miss Brontë’s words. I am no bird; and no net ensnares me: I am a free human being with an independent will.

What a fool I was.

Mr. Harding? Margaret perches in the doorway. Her pristine nurse’s uniform takes me back over the years to the noise and smell of field hospitals and clearing stations, and all that once was. It’s time, Thomas. The car is here.

Taking a laboured breath I rest my face against the window, savouring the icy chill of the glass against my skin. My gaze wanders over the neighbouring houses, the moody old Thames, and the view beyond the hill towards London. I, alone, know it is the last time I will look upon these places I hold most dear. The doctors tell me I don’t have long. It is a reality I have made my peace with, a reality I hide from those who would only fuss if they knew the full extent of my illness—my nurse included.

Are my letters packed, Margaret? I ask.

They’re in your suitcase as you requested.

All of them? The sealed letter as well? I can’t bring myself to say, the last one.

Yes, Thomas. All of them.

I nod. How many were there in the end? Dozens, and more. So much fear and hope captured in our words, so much longing and loss—and love. She always said her war was fought in words; her pen and prose the only weapons she, as a woman, could wield. She felt it was important to keep a record of all the correspondence, curating the memories of those years with as much determination and care as any exhibition at the British Museum. That a fragile bundle of paper sentiments survived the war when so many people were lost has always angered me, but now I am glad of them. Now, I am ready to relive those days, read through our letters one last time in Paris, as was her dying wish. I think about the sealed letter: To be opened in Paris on Christmas Eve. I wonder what more she might have to say.

Margaret waits patiently as I make my way across the room. She knows I am a stubborn old fool and that I will only grouse if she offers me her assistance. She glances at the window, and frowns.

Are you sure Paris is a good idea, Mr. Harding? The snow is really coming down.

I wave her concern away. Paris is always a good idea, I reply, my breathing heavy as I reach the door. Especially at Christmas. I falter at my words. Words which were once hers. And because I promised.

I’ve never been. Margaret smiles brightly. I hope we’ll see the Eiffel Tower.

I mutter under my breath that it is difficult to miss and turn to take one final look at the room, moments and memories hidden beneath the dust sheets that have always turned our London home into a temporary mausoleum at this time of year. If ever a city was made for snow, Paris is it.

She nods and holds out a tentative arm. To Paris then, Mr. Harding? And don’t spare the horses!

Her youthful enthusiasm reminds me of an old friend and I smile as I loop my arm through hers. To Paris, I say. I hope she is as beautiful as I remember.

Margaret closes the door behind us and I say a silent farewell to all those I have loved and lost, and to all the precious gifts that life has given me. If I have understood things correctly, Paris may yet have one final gift in store.

But first, I must go back to the beginning of our story, back to the beginning of a war none of us wanted, a war they said would be over by Christmas.

I keep the first bundle of letters in my pocket and as the plane taxis down the runway, I untie the red ribbon, and start to read . . .

PART ONE

1914

"They were summoned from the hillside

They were called in from the glen,

And the country found them ready

At the stirring call for men."

—Ivor Novello, Keep the Home Fires Burning

From Thomas Harding to his father

10th September, 1914

Oxford, England

Dear Father,

I write to you from the Officers’ Training Corps at Oxford. I’ve done it—I’ve joined the army—so I might serve our country in these great times and prove myself an honourable citizen, just as you did during the South African War. You returned as a hero, and I wish to live up to your legacy, at least in this way. There is a real sense of adventure here, a feeling that enlisting is the right thing to do. So many men have applied for a commission with the old Bugshooters that they’ve had to speed up the application process. No more aiming at flies on Christ Church Meadow! This is serious business now.

I am troubled by how we left things the last time I saw you. Two grown men, especially family, shouldn’t shout at each other to settle things. I know you want me to take the helm at the newspaper, but we are different people, Father. I hope one day you will understand my passion for scholarship. To become a professor at one of the most prestigious universities in the world is nothing to scoff at, though I know you disagree. At least by taking an active role in the war I won’t disappoint you. War makes equals of us all. Isn’t that what you once said?

Will Elliott signed up as well. In fact, we’ll be in the same regiment. I thought you would be glad to see me placed with my closest friend. All believe the war will come to a speedy end, so you might expect me home by Christmas, and we can talk again then. I’m certainly looking forward to a swift victory and yuletide cheer.

Sending good wishes, Father. I will be thinking of you in battle.

Your son,

Thomas

From Evelyn Elliott to Will Elliott

12th September, 1914

Richmond, England

Dearest Will,

Mama told me about your enlisting. I expected nothing less, and wanted to send a few lines to let you know how incredibly proud we all are. The British Army will be lucky to have you. Finally, you’ll have a chance to bring back some medals of your own to add to the family collection. Papa is all puffed up with pride, as I’m sure you can imagine, although I’m afraid he doesn’t expect you to see much action. He expects it will be over before you’ve even got to your training camp. While I know you will be eager to do your bit, I hope Papa is right.

I hear Tom Harding also enlisted. You two always were inseparable, and if you must go to war then I am glad to know that your greatest friend will be with you. If this were a battle of wits and intellect, the British Army could not wish for two finer recruits, although I can hardly imagine Tom Harding rushing into battle with a rifle and bayonet. I suspect he would far rather write a thesis about it than participate in it. Keep an eye on him. You know how stubborn he can be at times.

Papa is still livid about the suspension of the last two matches of the County cricket championships, especially with Surrey on course to win again. He says September without cricket is like December without snow—it just doesn’t feel right. Poor Papa. I think he feels rather left behind with all the younger men heading off to war.

Write a few lines now and again, would you? You know how Mama fusses.

Your sister,

Evie

X

From Will Elliott to Evelyn Elliott

15th September, 1914

Oxford, England

Dear Evie,

Many thanks for the vote of confidence—Tom and I are bristling with something like excitement, though that isn’t quite the word. Josh and Dean are here, too, and Bill Spry; the whole College almost, off to vanquish the enemy. The bloody Krauts won’t know what hit them.

Be good to Mama and Papa while I’m away. None of that mischief you’re so fond of stirring up, do you hear me? I won’t be there to bail you out.

With all good wishes,

Will

From Evelyn Elliott to Thomas Harding

1st October, 1914

Richmond, England

Dear Thomas Archibald Harding,

(I’m sorry—I couldn’t resist the opportunity to poke a little more fun at your recently discovered middle name. How on earth did you keep that a secret all these years?)

I am really quite hopeless. You, Will, and the rest of the boys are gone less than an hour and already I find myself bored and restless. So much so that I am at Will’s writing desk, penning my first letter to you. After all, I did promise to write soon, and you know how much I hate to break a promise (you may yet regret complaining of having no female relations to write to you). You know I have a dreadful tendency for overenthusiasm and I’m afraid this war may bring out my very worst best intentions. Can you ever forgive me for sending you into the Cherwell with my overzealous punting? If I catch the post this afternoon, it is entirely possible my letter will arrive at your training camp before you do (and I give you full permission to claim it is from your sweetheart and be the envy of everyone there).

You won’t be surprised to know that I envy you and Will, heading off on your grand adventure, just as I envied you when you returned to Oxford after the long vacation. It seems I must always be the one to wave you off and stay behind but I live in hope that one day I’ll be the one heading off somewhere exciting. I suppose a girl can dream.

It was a lovely crowd to see you off, wasn’t it? Some of the women were inconsolable, but I retained my composure, as did Mama. We are terribly proud of you all and can’t wait for you to return as heroes—although, in all honesty, you looked more like a group of nervous bachelors heading to their first tea dance than a troop of soldiers heading to war. No doubt you’ll look the part once you have a rifle in your hand. Send a photograph if you can. I should like to see what Thomas Archibald Harding looks like as a proper soldier.

Alice says I’ll have to find a way to divert myself while you’re gone. I have a mind to take up a new hobby. Golf, perhaps. Or maybe I’ll dust off Will’s bicycle and join the local ladies’ bicycling club. In any event, they say the war will be over by Christmas and then all I’ll have to worry about is how to survive another weary afternoon of cribbage with Mama and her friends.

If you have time to respond between drills and polishing your boots, it would be nice to know where you are and what you are doing. If I cannot go with you both to France, you will have to transport me there with your words.

Your friend,

Evelyn Maria Constance Elliott

From Evelyn to Will

1st October, 1914

Richmond, England

Dear Will,

I have just written five pages to Tom Harding—four more than I’d intended—and now I am running out of ink and words, so please forgive me if this is rather brief.

I’m sitting at your writing desk, and it wishes to inform you that it is much happier with its new occupant. Far less banging of fists and gnashing of teeth and spilt ink. You’re not gone two hours and I must say that I already feel very much at home here in your room. The view over the garden is lovely. How funny that I never really appreciated it before. I can idle here now, you see, absorb the view at leisure with no mean big brother to chase me out. I might even sleep in your bed, Will. I might have a good old rummage through your drawers. I wonder what terrible secrets I might unearth!

I hope your training camp is comfortable, although no doubt a far cry from your London clubs. Don’t worry. You’ll be dining and dancing at The Savoy again before the year is out. Don’t do anything foolish, Will, I know how impetuous you can be, and please send word as soon as you can—if not to me then at least to Mama. Spare me the misery of her inevitable fretting. Please. I will forgive you your most terrible secrets if you can just write a short letter home every now and again.

Do your duty and hurry home.

Wishing you well, and safe onward travels.

Evie

X

From Thomas Harding to Evelyn

5th October, 1914

Surrey, England

Dear Evie,

I laughed when I received your letter, just as we arrived. I suppose the postal service is faster than we think it is. And for your information, yes, I am an Archibald, and I’d happily lob an ice cream at you if you were here. Make fun, Evelyn Maria Constance Elliott, but don’t forget the tree house or the horse manure and your little rag doll. I may be a proper soldier now, but I’m not above pranks and retribution!

It looks as if we’ll train and learn the drill here at camp in Mytchett for four weeks, then ship off to the Front. The regiment is all enthusiasm and energy; we are all looking forward to seeing the real action. Already I’ve learned marching orders, basic first aid, and face-to-face combat. Your brother and I decided the training isn’t so different from wrestling with Robbie Banks. That bullheaded fellow was always looking for a brawl at the pub. I’m anxious to get to the more interesting bits. Will is brimming with eagerness. You know how he can be.

You asked for a picture of what it’s like at camp, so here goes. At reveille the bugle drives us out of bed at the start of the day. I say day, but it’s so early we’re up hours before dawn when it’s black as pitch. Still, no one grumbles about a lost hour or two of sleep, not when we’re headed to war. We dress, eat, and do some variation of training until noon when we break for a short lunch, after which we have more training until four or five in the afternoon. We’re free to head into town then if we wish, though not every day. Most often we hang around the billiards hall or play rounds of cards, smoke, etc. Being a lieutenant, I try to avoid getting mixed up in any mischief with the privates. Well, not too often anyway. I spend a lot of time in my bunk alone, in fact. Looking back at Oxford—and this is difficult to admit—I’m thankful for my time in the Officers’ Training Corps. (Don’t tell Will. He’ll give me hell.) Some training, though little, was certainly better than none. Anyway, the privates really are the last rung, poor chaps. They will bear the brunt of the attacks. If I were among them, I would work like the devil so I could move up in the world.

That’s all for now. Getting called to the card table.

Sincerely yours,

Lieutenant Thomas Archibald Harding

From Evie to Thomas

15th October, 1914

Richmond, England

Dear Thomas Archibald,

You replied! How jolly to see your letter among the morning post. It made for a very pleasant change from polite invitations to tea, and the rather less polite rejection of my latest attempt to have a piece published in the Times. Perhaps I should submit my next under a male pseudonym. If it’s good enough for the lady novelist who writes as George Eliot then it’s good enough for me. Evan Elliott has a rather nice ring to it, don’t you think?

Joking aside, I do sometimes wish I were a boy so I could see more of the world. Even the prospect of the battlefield is more appealing right now than sitting here waiting for a marriage proposal. Boys go to college and war. Girls marry well. This, from Papa when I complained of it being unfair earlier today.

Speaking of marriage, Mama checks the casualty lists daily for news of Charlie Gilbert. She clings desperately to the hope of my receiving a proposal from him when he returns, while I, meanwhile, hope he will fall in love with a beautiful French girl and forget all about his infatuation with me (which, as you know, I have always enthusiastically discouraged). Poor, dull Charlie. He’s not a bad sort, but you know how he is—and how I am. Marrying Charlie would be rather like marrying a broken carriage clock. How the hours would drag.

Your training sounds much like dorm life at school. Didn’t they wake you with a bugle there, too? Or was it a gong? I forget. I imagine you and Will having great larks with the other chaps. You certainly sound in very good spirits and ready for the off. I expect the waiting is terribly frustrating. Like waiting for Christmas—all the anticipation, and yet still no snow and still no parcels under the tree.

Talking of Christmas, do you think it silly of me to still hope we might manage that trip to Paris we all became rather excited about after a few too many sherries? Papa says the city is full of refugees and that despite the allied victory at the Marne, it may still come under German attack again. If we do make it, Alice Cuthbert will come to make a foursome. She’s terrific fun, and you know how fond she is of Will. (Remind him, would you. It would make me so happy to see the two of them together.) They say Paris is impossibly pretty at Christmastime, and it will be just the tonic after months of fighting for you and months of boredom for Alice and me. Let’s say we’ll go if we can. Ça va être merveilleux! All those hours hunched over my French textbooks may prove to be of use after all.

In quite exciting news, I am now a member of the Richmond Lady Cyclist’s Club. I mostly fall off so far, but the ladies assure me they all struggled to control their bicycles at first, and that I must keep practicing. I would far rather ride an unbroken horse to be honest, but I shall persist and try again tomorrow (you know how stubborn I can be!). If I ever do master the art of bicycling, I have plans to ride all the way to Brighton to visit Alice. I recently read about Tessie Reynolds’s exploits in The Lady and find myself having grand notions about dashing around the country on two wheels. Don’t tell Will.

I hope this reaches you before you head off. Papa says you won’t be able to tell us where you are once you leave Mytchett in order to prevent information from falling into enemy hands. He says all letters from the Front will be censored before they reach home, so be careful of spilling any secrets or you’ll be court martialed before you’ve pulled the trigger once.

Is there anything I can send before you ship out? Mama said you would probably be grateful for some decent tobacco. She is convinced you are all living in squalor. I’ve included the best Virginia I could find, just in case.

Yours in friendship,

Evie

From Will Elliott to Evie

20th October, 1914

Surrey, England

Dear Writing Desk,

Do not be fooled by Evie’s charms. She is untidy and presses too hard with her pen. She will have you ruined in weeks. Please pass on my thanks for her letter (albeit half the length of the one she sent to my friend Tom) and reassure everyone at home that I am in the best of health.

Not much to report from training camp, except that we are keen to get to the Front, see an end to this and return home as swiftly as possible to reclaim what is rightfully ours, writing desks included.

Behave, Evelyn.

Yours, in ink,

Will

From Thomas to Evie

25th October, 1914

Surrey, England

Dear Evelyn Elliott,

I assure you, you look much better as a woman than a man. I can see it now, Evan Elliott in heels and skirt, riding a bicycle like a banshee from hell. Gave myself a good laugh over that one. But in all seriousness, you should keep submitting your articles. You’re quite the writer. Don’t let them make you believe otherwise.

Camp life is going swimmingly. Glad to be here and so proud to march on, even if it means leaving my father’s struggling newspaper business behind. More on that another time.

I’m glad of your letters. Though I’m just one of a bunch of chaps playing poker at the moment, and not exactly a heroic representative of our country, I suspect at some point I’ll be desperately glad to have news from home. And you’re just the girl to deliver it, so thank you.

Speaking of home, are your horses spirited away somewhere? Will worries about Shylock and Hamlet. We’ve seen the shipments go out—hundreds of them, or thousands, really. We’ve been told they’re confiscating all the horses and sending them to the Front. Your brother will commit treason if his are taken. You know how he loves them. If they were to go to battle . . . Well, let’s not speak of it. Do what you can.

I’m sure you’ve heard the Allies are holding the lines, keeping Paris relatively safe for now? The government is taking precautions, though, and moved south to Bordeaux. So it would seem, my friend, that Christmas in Paris might still be a fine idea, even without half a bottle of sherry in my stomach. We might have joked when we talked about it at first, but there’s no time like the present, I say. Besides, I welcome a diversion at that time of year. Since my mother passed, I’ve never felt the same about the jolliest season, and all that. The last Christmas I spent with her was in Edinburgh when I was twelve. It snowed and we had a grand party with the rest of the family. Father never let me go to Scotland for Christmas again after that. He was so hurt and angry when she left him, and angrier still that I enjoyed spending time with the other half of my family. I suppose I should be grateful I spent so many summers there before she died. I’m planning to visit after this is all over. Scotland has always felt like my other home, you know?

Damn it, Evie. Now isn’t the time for such thoughts, is it? I should have nothing but honour on my mind.

For now, I send you a hurrah for the kingdom (!) and a friendly salute (I may have had one stout too many).

Sincerely,

Lieutenant Thomas Archibald Harding

From Evie to Thomas

31st October, 1914

Richmond, England

Dear Lieutenant Thomas Archibald Harding,

(I presume formal address is a requirement now?)

Thank you for your letter. It’s curious how a few lines can cheer one so greatly over a cup of tea and a slice of toast. I hope my letters are as eagerly received. It’s a wonder they ever find you among so many men there at the camp. And thank you for your kind words about my writing. You are quite right. I must persevere. I suppose there will be plenty to write about with so much going on in the world.

Charlie Gilbert sent a letter last week (I won’t trouble you with the romantic details). He is somewhere in France and sounds dreadfully glum, although Charlie always tends to exaggerate so I take his words with a pinch of salt, especially since the newspapers are all talk of victory and the men being in high spirits. He says they are all encouraged by the news about successful recruitment campaigns and they are eager for the latest troops to arrive.

Will sent a short note as well. He complained of the typhoid vaccination, which has left him feeling a bit green around the gills. He also enclosed a photograph of your regiment. I must say you both look terribly smart in your uniforms. The photograph has pride of place on the mantelpiece. We are immensely proud.

You ask what news from home? Not much, I’m afraid, other than to tell you that my bicycling has improved. There’s a wonderful freedom in hurtling along the lanes with the wind in my hair. I don’t know why I didn’t learn to do it sooner. I found a wonderful little volume in Papa’s library called Handbook for Lady Cyclists. The author, Lillias Campbell Davidson, gives the following advice on appropriate attire for cycling tours: Wear as few petticoats as possible and have your gown made neatly and plainly of flannel without loose ends or drapery to catch in your bicycle. I’d rather wear a pair of men’s trousers, but Mama would never speak to me again.

Other than swotting up on cycling tours, there’s an awful fuss among next season’s debutantes and their mothers who are worried sick about a lack of eligible escorts for the spring season. Please make sure to send some decent sorts back home. You are in charge, are you not? I will hold you entirely responsible for the dashed hopes of an entire generation of young women and their dressmakers if you fail in your duties.

In other news, the horses. Oh, Tom. It’s really quite awful. The army have indeed requisitioned any animal that isn’t already lame and Shylock and Hamlet are both gone to serve as war horses. I did my very best to plead their case, insisting they were both ruined by too much love and sugar lumps and not at all cut out for battle, but my protests fell on deaf ears. Papa says we must all do our bit—even the animals. I don’t know how to tell Will. He’ll be heartbroken. Perhaps you could tell him? It would be far kinder for him to hear it from a friend than in a

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