the pinakes
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THE SHAPE OF A CITY

Normally I’m fairly conservative in my choice of movies to watch and books to read — I’ll read numerous reviews before giving something a chance. But I love the serendipity of the book drop, or, I should say, of clearing the book drop. Today a small book with a simple title and an author I knew nothing about caught my eye, thanks to nothing more than an arresting cover. It only took me five sentences to fall in love (despite the very French analogy at the end):

The shape of a city, as we all know, changes more rapidly than the heart of a mortal. However, it often happens that before being discarded, left behind to become the prey of its memories, the city — caught, like all other cities, in the vertiginous metamorphosis that characterizes the second half of our century — will have found ways to change a heart still young and impressionable just by subjecting it to its climate and landscape, and by leaving an imprint of its streets, boulevards, and parks on the most private thoughts and daydreams of its owner. It is not necessary to have lived there like an ordinary citizen; I even doubt that it would make much of a difference. The city’s influence will be much stronger, and perhaps longer, if it has remained partially hidden — if, because of some unusual circumstances, we have lived in its midst but never reached a degree of familiarity, much less of intimacy, if we never had the freedom, nor enough leisure time to walk through its neighborhoods aimlessly, to stroll its streets at will. It is possible that by making only certain concessions and without ever completely surrendering, the city has — just like a woman — tightened the threads spun by our daydreams around herself, and better adapted the rise and development of our desires to her rhythms and moods.

The book, I went on to find out, is a love letter and appreciation of the Loire Valley city of Nantes by Julien Gracq, a French writer, historian and literary critic. Though I’ve never been to Nantes, I appreciate Gracq’s clear affection of the secret city, the walking rhythm of urban life. This opening passage captured the spirit of the flâneur I have written about before, and the way I love not only San Francisco but other cities I have walked, however briefly, such as New York, Barcelona and Edinburgh. Ultimately, it represents the higher ideals of the livable streets movement I embrace, and why I believe cities, not suburbs, are the best mode of life for me.

In what little free time I seem to have, I hope to read this petit tome — even though I know nothing about where it will go. But that’s just like walking a city.

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