Reviewed by Emma HughesBLOOMSBURY, 151pp, £16.99Tablet bookshop price £15.30                 Tel 01420 592974First, a confession. The presiding spirit of Paul Bailey’s new novel, a paen to the pleasures of interwar Paris, is Marcel Proust. And I’ve never really warmed to his signature brand of sugar-dusted melancholy. As soon as I read the words “a work of extraordinary sensual delicacy” on the jacket of The Prince’s Boy, I knew what I was in for – a confection as tinkling and twee as a cake-stand full of madeleines. In May 1927, 19-year-old Dinu Grigorescu steps off the Bucharest train at the Gare du Nord. Installing himself in an appropriately shabby garret, he sets abou