An Unconventional Guide to the Louvre: A Humorous Take on the Museum Experience

Title: Adventures in the Louvre: Bridging the Gap Between Journalism, Pop Culture, and Museum Experience

Elaine Sciolino’s new book, Adventures in the Louvre: How to Fall in Love with the World’s Greatest Museum (Norton, 2025), is a whimsical and highly subjective love letter to one of the most iconic art institutions in the world. At its heart, the book is not a scholarly work nor a traditional history of the Louvre’s vast art collection. Instead, it serves as a personalized, accessible travelogue written by a seasoned journalist for readers who may stand in awe of the museum’s grandeur but feel uninitiated in the world of art.

Sciolino, former Paris bureau chief for The New York Times, positions herself not as an art historian but as an enthusiastic outsider navigating the cultural labyrinth of the Louvre. The book is constructed less around timelines or artistic movements and more on personal experiences—her interactions with staff, behind-the-scenes access, and brush-ins with centuries-old masterpieces. From exploring security passageways to sharing an intimate moment in front of the “Mona Lisa” without the usual crowds, Sciolino stitches together a readable, if sometimes overly romanticized, narrative of what it means to “fall in love” with the museum.

The Allure, the Romance, and the Mythmaking

The book’s structure illustrates the author’s desire to make the museum relatable. Titled sections like “The Allure,” “Romance,” and “Be Mine” cast the Louvre not just as a building, but as a lover to woo and be wooed by. In doing so, Sciolino attempts to translate the often dry, academic character of museum texts into something emotional, even intimate.

But this romanticization has its pitfalls. Experts and art scholars may find themselves dismayed by errors and misleading simplifications. A notable example includes her assertion that Veronese’s monumental painting The Wedding at Cana was mutilated simply because it was degraded upon arrival in France—overlooking the historically established practice of cutting the piece solely due to its sheer size. Similarly, moments of awe—like marveling over the museum’s conservation and research departments—come across as naïvely surprised, glossing over the fact that such departments are standard in major institutions worldwide.

Pop Culture and Public Appeal

What sets Sciolino’s book apart is her unabashed embrace of popular culture. Her references range from Dan Brown’s The Da Vinci Code to Beyoncé and Jay-Z’s music video “APESHIT,” filmed in the Louvre in 2018. These pop culture touchpoints democratize the museum experience, but also risk reducing iconic artworks to mere set pieces in a celebrity backdrop. For those engaged in critical art discourse, it might seem like a shallow take. For casual readers, however, it may be an effective entry point into a world that can so often be intimidating.

The emphasis on beauty as a criterion for art appreciation further muddies the water. Critics argue that this oversimplifies the complex values and meanings embedded in art. At best, it offers an approachable framework; at worst, it reinforces superficial engagement.

Moments of Substance: MNR Collection and Marginalized Art Histories

Despite its tendency toward fluff, the book does have moments of genuine critical insight. Sciolino sheds light on lesser-known collections within the Louvre, including its holdings in Persian and Islamic art, as well as its underrepresentation of women and LGBTQ+ subjects in the main displays. One of the most poignant chapters examines the Musées Nationaux Récupération (MNR) collection—artworks looted by the Nazis, awaiting restitution. Sciolino criticizes the Louvre’s marginal placement of these objects and the minimal explanatory signage. She notes, with gravity, the unsettling juxtaposition of decorative arts plundered during the Holocaust now resting, mostly anonymously, within the gilded halls of the world’s most famous museum.

Here, Sciolino’s journalistic rigor pierces through, casting a rare shadow of accountability on an institution often exalted without critique. It enhances the book’s value by stirring questions about memory, restitution, and institutional responsibility.

An Authorized Perspective?

Sciolino’s access to the Louvre was unprecedented and, by her own account, difficult to negotiate. She faced tight security inspections and interview protocols more rigid than those she encountered when covering Washington intelligence agencies. This backstage pass leads to an inevitable question: Did agreeing to such controlled access compromise the impartiality of her reporting?

While she insists the book was developed independently—declining the Louvre’s suggestion to publish through its official channel—the narrative occasionally echoes the tone of a sanctioned travel brochure. A final chapter that explicitly offers tips on how to navigate the museum suggests that Adventures in the Louvre might function more as a tourism companion than an investigative or analytical work.

Who Is This Book For?

Ultimately, Sciolino’s target audience is not the seasoned art critic or the rigorous academic. Rather, it’s the curious traveler, the first-time visitor, or