A Waiter in Paris: Adventures in the Dark Heart of the City

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After walking the cold streets, anxious to find any sort of work, Chisholm becomes a waiter earning €1,086.

He inhabits a world of inhuman hours, snatched sleep and dive bars; he scrapes by on coffee, bread and cigarettes, with a wage so low he’s fighting colleagues for tips. But I would have much rather read the story of a waiter in Paris told from the perspective of an actual Parisian or at least an old hand, not Edward from the Home Counties who did a few years waiting tables between university and writing for the New York Times. The refugee Tamils washing dishes and skivvying are ‘adept at hand-to-hand combat and know how to plan and execute a guerrilla attack on an armed convoy’.Indeed, his fellow waiters are thieves, drug dealers, ex-soldiers on the run — a grotesque mob, unshaven with darting, ferret-like, bloodshot eyes.

Running through the book, of course, are the stories of Chisholm’s fellow waiters, and they’re not exactly having a good time either.

A young Englishman’s journey into the merciless world of Parisian restaurants is propulsive, harrowing, and expertly observed.