The Ruins of Paris is a book of poems, most of them written in prose. It's an urban wandering through landscapes at the rhythm of walking, in a lyrical and meditative reflection.
I really liked "arrêts, buffets, liaisons routières".
Heather Hartley (Paris Editor): Jacques Réda’s The Ruins of Paris guides the reader through the city’s neighborhoods and suburbs–from beautiful to gritty, noble to popular, spirited to silent. A true flâneur (stroller or walker or loafer), Réda moves from Montmartre to Belleville to St. Germain des Prés to everywhere in between. His love of jazz music is evident in his syncopated, lyrical and at times disjointed prose. “A courtyard, no, an impasse that is illuminated by a solitary tree–I stop. But it’s not out of curiosity that I keep walking past the dark wood . . .”
I read this in a hurry and now hope to read it again more slowly. The author's sharp focus on surface details might remind us of Robbe-Grillet. But it is more about relations one might experience with one's environment. In this way one might describe it as phenomenological field notes.
One of the most descriptive, lovely documents of any city, narrated by a man who is unafraid to admit to his values, powerful yet reserved in their essence.