I find nineteenth century social history ridiculously fascinating. Perhaps it's because we live at a time, similar to the nineteenth century industrial revolution, when technological change is suddenly fundamentally altering our understanding of the world we live in. Although written well before the current revolution in communications technology, Schivelbusch's study of how railways changed European and American consciousness is both quite readable and theoretically grounded. Using a few thinkers that I love (Marx, Benjamin and, at the very end, Foucault) and a truly impressive collection of primary source quotes, Schivelbusch argues quite convincingly that railways represented the space-time compression that is emblematic of the nineteenth century.
Schivelbusch does a great job of explaining how things we take for granted now were once completely mind-boggling. These include the idea that mechanical power is inexhaustible, that the same entity that controls the rails should also control the cars (instead of just letting whoever run their individual stagecoach style rail cars whenever they want, safety be damned ... ), and that industrial and post-industrial roads tend to run in straight lines because they exist for circulation (whereas previous cities had roads with more complex uses). Schivelbusch also makes a fascinating comparison between the change in perspective from a stagecoach to a train, and how this relates to the panorama, development of photography and ultimately, the department store. All of these new technologies shift the focus from the foreground to the distance. Or, in the case of photography and department stores, to the realm of representation, both aesthetic and that of capitalist alienation. Railways are a great topic for political economy, and Schivelbusch touches on that with his comparison of European vs American railway construction methods being shaped by the cheap labour and expensive land in Europe and conversely expensive labour and cheap land in the US. But, while alluding to it in places, his study nearly entirely leaves out the almost conspiratorial corporate capitalism that drove railway construction in both Europe and the US and, to me, that leaves the political-economy argument inexcusably underdeveloped.
Where Schivelbusch gets derailed (sorry, couldn't resist), I think, is when he gets Freudian in his discussion of fear and pathology on the railway journey. I did find his exploration of the differences between European and American compartment design both chilling and hilarious (basically Europeans were so obsessed with privacy and class that they designed train compartments that could only be entered from outside so they a) didn't have access to washrooms, and b) ran the risk of getting murdered by their fellow travellers, or at least worried about that). But, the chapters about accidents, fear of accidents and the invention of the concept of shock, while interesting, didn't really seem to relate to the rest of this book very well. As a result, I felt like the book lost a bit of steam (sorry, couldn't resist) in this part. I was also not convinced by how Schivelbusch used Freud's concept of the stimulus shield to explain the mechanism by which all of these inventions changed the collective consciousness. Finally, the development of nineteenth century railways is a huge topic and Shivelbusch's study is focused very narrowly on a handful of European countries and the US. Clearly, if you're looking for comprehensiveness, this is a big shortcoming.
Despite its imperfections, I think there's a reason this book is still available and being read 40 years on: it provides an interesting and easy to grasp interpretation of an important period in history. It wasn't gripping in the way that so much novelistic social history is these days. But, in addition to liking to read about the nineteenth century, I have a thing for trains and an art history degree, so have a high tolerance for critical theory being applied with a broad brush to narrow questions (especially when it's Marx and Benjamin!). If that sounds like you, get on board (sorry! couldn't resist that terrible pun, either.)