Anna and the French Kiss

Let’s cut to the chase: Stephanie Perkins’ “Anna and the French Kiss” isn’t some glossy postcard romance where everything falls perfectly into place after a few cliché confessions. It’s a teen love story that knows how messy real feelings can be, especially when you’re uprooted from everything familiar and tossed into the City of Lights, which, spoiler alert, doesn’t always feel so bright.

Anna Oliphant is your average high school senior from Atlanta, who’s suddenly shipped off to the School of America in Paris (SOAP) because her dad thinks it’s a brilliant idea for her to finish her last year abroad. Anna, naturally, is less than thrilled. She’s dealing with culture shock, missing her friends and family, and trying to figure out how to survive in a place where everything from the language to the social scene feels foreign.

Enter Étienne St. Clair, the kind of guy who’s annoyingly perfect in that effortless, charming way—smart, funny, and with a smile that could probably start a riot. But here’s the snag: he’s already got a steady girlfriend, Ellie, who’s also part of their tight-knit circle. Anna’s crush on St. Clair is complicated by her loyalty to friendship and her own sense of what’s right. This tension drives most of the emotional push and pull in the story.

What makes the novel stick isn’t just the predictable love triangle trope. It’s Anna’s voice—wry, honest, sometimes awkward—that pulls you in. Perkins nails the teenage experience without drowning it in melodrama or over-the-top angst. You get the fumbling first crushes, the awkward social dynamics, the confusion over what you want versus what you should want. And all of this plays out against the backdrop of Paris, which feels less like a tourist brochure and more like a living, breathing character—full of cozy cafés, rainy afternoons, and the kind of moments that feel like they might change everything.

The supporting cast is solid, too. Meredith, with her own unrequited feelings, Rashmi and Josh with their steady relationship, and the ever-present Ellie, who adds a layer of complexity to St. Clair’s character. These aren’t just cardboard figures; they each bring their own quirks and flaws, making the social web believable.

Stylistically, the book is a breezy first-person narrative that’s easy to devour. Perkins’ humor is subtle but effective, and the emotional beats hit just right without feeling forced. The pacing keeps things moving, though some readers might find the plot twists a bit predictable. Still, it’s the kind of predictability that feels comforting rather than lazy—like you’re settling in with a familiar friend rather than being blindsided.

“Anna and the French Kiss” also explores more than just teenage romance. It touches on cultural adaptation—the awkwardness of trying to fit in when you’re the new kid in a foreign school, the way friendships can form across differences, and how identity is something you build even when everything around you changes. The novel doesn’t pretend that moving across the world fixes your problems; instead, it shows that growth often means facing your own insecurities head-on.

Critically, the book earned a warm reception for its relatable characters and authentic portrayal of teenage love. NPR’s nod as one of the year’s best teen reads and praise from outlets like Kirkus and Publishers Weekly speak to its quality, though it’s not without its limitations. The love triangle and certain plot beats follow familiar YA formulas, which might feel a bit worn if you’re a genre veteran.

In the end, this isn’t a story about grand gestures or fairy-tale endings. It’s about the slow burn of friendship, the awkwardness of first love, and the messy, uncertain journey of growing up in a city that’s as complicated as your heart. If you’re looking for a YA romance that respects your intelligence and doesn’t sugarcoat the awkward, “Anna and the French Kiss” is a solid pick.