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Hail Babylon!
Andrei Codrescu, longtime observer and commentator on things odd and American, takes us on a personal tour through our withered yet increasingly alluring urban landscapes. Our trusted, if sometimes irreverent, guide visits New York, Baltimore, New Orleans, Little Rock, San Antonio, Albuquerque, Las Vegas, San Francisco, and Portland, Oregon (and points beyond, including Oxford, Mississippi; Salem, Oregon; and California's seaside jewel, La Jolla). Codrescu - while recognizing that cities are under attack by the political right, buffeted by the ever-proliferating prefab town house, beset by crime, and questioned from within - shows us that they are also still flourishing, in fact becoming invaluable models of multiethnic, multicultural living. Taken together, these striking urban portraits sound an extremely hopeful message as Codrescu astutely considers "the city as wilderness," a place where the ecology of human desires and the work of the mind find their optimum conditions.
- GenresEssaysTravelNonfiction
240 pages, Hardcover
First published January 1, 1998
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About the author
Andrei Codrescu
162 books151 followersAndrei Codrescu is a poet, novelist, essayist, and NPR commentator. His many books include Whatever Gets You through the Night, The Postmodern Dada Guide, and The Poetry Lesson. He was Mac Curdy Distinguished Professor of English at Louisiana State University from 1984 until his retirement in 2009.
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Displaying 1 - 7 of 7 reviews
April 1, 2009
This book about traveling to American cities was recommended to me just in time for my trip to D.C. I opened the book on my train ride to the airport, leaving Chicago, and finished the last page of the book upon landing in Chicago on my return. Poetic!
I think impressions would be the best way to describe what Cadrescu writes. With some exceptions, he's writing about cities that he only spends a brief time in; cities in which acquaintances host him, give him a tour, take him for walks. That doesn't sound interesting, but it really is! The book is actually extremely funny, something that my review probably won't reveal, because I'm interested in what his experiences add up to—what they tell us about the future of American cities. But first, highlights from the different places:
His deepest and most passionate account by far is New Orleans, where he calls home (he's originally from Romania, something which flavors his reflections). He convinces us that he's an authority on the place, referencing everything from menus of favorite restaurants to crime statistics. It gets a bit cheesy when he dwells on the thick swampy climate as a metaphor for all things New Orleans. But what's most striking about this chapter is the fact that it was written before Hurricane Katrina. There's a number of passages that read as downright eerie: “If we are doomed—by the river or by something else—then so be it. This is how nature becomes natural” (7); “New Orleans is...a collection of graves surrounding the city” (5); Describing the Mississippi River, voodoo, jazz, crime, and Mardi Gras, New Orleans becomes at once melancholy, spiritual, romantic, terrifying, and absurd.
Oxford, Mississippi's chapter is intriguing because Codrescu really digs in and brings out local culture. He brings tremendous insight to the racist legacy of the south and how it is implicitly communicated today, including an amazing metaphor in which an old money white mansion owner shows him a closet full of mammy dolls. In one of the funnier moments, he sums up the place with: “'Faulkner Elvis Catfish Sharpei Twirling Kudzu,' pronounced as a single word” (70). Describing the south more generally, Codrescu makes the astute observation of the parallel between the architectural restoration craze (or religion, as he calls it!) of old buildings and the “social restoration” ideology of white supremacy.
Little Rock is the most boring chapter, but his description of the Ozarks outside the city really do justice to their beauty. I learned a lot from the San Antonio chapter and was surprised by his characterization of it as rather literary, comfortable, and culturally synchretic. Albuquerque is the most fun, in which our traveller becomes obsessed with the magical powers of chiles, experiences the Chicano low-rider phenomenon, and gets drunk enough to dance to latin music.
The New York City chapter is great, because it was conveying a singular, specific experience, instead of trying to grapple with the immense task of describing that quintessential city. Indeed, NYC is usually seen as THE city (although one of my urban planning professors argued that Chicago really is the most American city, whatever that means). Codrescu does not write an ode to NYC, but focuses on a single afternoon in which he cleverly captures a glimpse of the city's spirit and form. His other east coast chapter, an account of Baltimore, is touching, wherein he tells us about how his life began to come together, both for his family and for his work.
The title “In Search of the American City at the End of the Millennium” is brilliant. Codrescu shows us, in the astonishing variety of these places, that there is no singular American city. Or if something can be said to be “American,” it is something that is plural. Then again, maybe there is a common feature among the cities, creating a an archetype: in many of Cordescu's descriptions there lies a tension between urbanism and Americanism, in which the latter threatens the former. The former being an engine of culture, of diversity, where lives can be created; the latter representing unfettered capitalism, homogenization, in which culture is parodied, masqueraded, made ironic, acted, or purchased.
He bases his understanding and love of the urban in the great Jane Jacobs: “Cities, she argues, are where human beings, those complex, paradoxical creatures live; they make a world according to their measure, not the plans of utopia-sick bureaucrats” (xiv). Here, I think he's championing the micro; the idiosyncratic; the authentic; the lived; the everyday, while at the same time establishing credibility for his own narrative of the city.
Cordescu wrote this during the late 90s, at at time when there was a trend of cities “coming back:” people returning from the suburbs, new post-industrial development, tourism, gentrification, etc. Cordescu knows that cities have soul, and are to be defended: “I believe that we are at a crossroads of America. The dying city is being rethought, but it is still being attacked and destroyed (though at a slower pace)” (xix). Cordescu is ready to fight for cities, and gives us hope for them, by indicating we're winning.
I think impressions would be the best way to describe what Cadrescu writes. With some exceptions, he's writing about cities that he only spends a brief time in; cities in which acquaintances host him, give him a tour, take him for walks. That doesn't sound interesting, but it really is! The book is actually extremely funny, something that my review probably won't reveal, because I'm interested in what his experiences add up to—what they tell us about the future of American cities. But first, highlights from the different places:
His deepest and most passionate account by far is New Orleans, where he calls home (he's originally from Romania, something which flavors his reflections). He convinces us that he's an authority on the place, referencing everything from menus of favorite restaurants to crime statistics. It gets a bit cheesy when he dwells on the thick swampy climate as a metaphor for all things New Orleans. But what's most striking about this chapter is the fact that it was written before Hurricane Katrina. There's a number of passages that read as downright eerie: “If we are doomed—by the river or by something else—then so be it. This is how nature becomes natural” (7); “New Orleans is...a collection of graves surrounding the city” (5); Describing the Mississippi River, voodoo, jazz, crime, and Mardi Gras, New Orleans becomes at once melancholy, spiritual, romantic, terrifying, and absurd.
Oxford, Mississippi's chapter is intriguing because Codrescu really digs in and brings out local culture. He brings tremendous insight to the racist legacy of the south and how it is implicitly communicated today, including an amazing metaphor in which an old money white mansion owner shows him a closet full of mammy dolls. In one of the funnier moments, he sums up the place with: “'Faulkner Elvis Catfish Sharpei Twirling Kudzu,' pronounced as a single word” (70). Describing the south more generally, Codrescu makes the astute observation of the parallel between the architectural restoration craze (or religion, as he calls it!) of old buildings and the “social restoration” ideology of white supremacy.
Little Rock is the most boring chapter, but his description of the Ozarks outside the city really do justice to their beauty. I learned a lot from the San Antonio chapter and was surprised by his characterization of it as rather literary, comfortable, and culturally synchretic. Albuquerque is the most fun, in which our traveller becomes obsessed with the magical powers of chiles, experiences the Chicano low-rider phenomenon, and gets drunk enough to dance to latin music.
The New York City chapter is great, because it was conveying a singular, specific experience, instead of trying to grapple with the immense task of describing that quintessential city. Indeed, NYC is usually seen as THE city (although one of my urban planning professors argued that Chicago really is the most American city, whatever that means). Codrescu does not write an ode to NYC, but focuses on a single afternoon in which he cleverly captures a glimpse of the city's spirit and form. His other east coast chapter, an account of Baltimore, is touching, wherein he tells us about how his life began to come together, both for his family and for his work.
The title “In Search of the American City at the End of the Millennium” is brilliant. Codrescu shows us, in the astonishing variety of these places, that there is no singular American city. Or if something can be said to be “American,” it is something that is plural. Then again, maybe there is a common feature among the cities, creating a an archetype: in many of Cordescu's descriptions there lies a tension between urbanism and Americanism, in which the latter threatens the former. The former being an engine of culture, of diversity, where lives can be created; the latter representing unfettered capitalism, homogenization, in which culture is parodied, masqueraded, made ironic, acted, or purchased.
He bases his understanding and love of the urban in the great Jane Jacobs: “Cities, she argues, are where human beings, those complex, paradoxical creatures live; they make a world according to their measure, not the plans of utopia-sick bureaucrats” (xiv). Here, I think he's championing the micro; the idiosyncratic; the authentic; the lived; the everyday, while at the same time establishing credibility for his own narrative of the city.
Cordescu wrote this during the late 90s, at at time when there was a trend of cities “coming back:” people returning from the suburbs, new post-industrial development, tourism, gentrification, etc. Cordescu knows that cities have soul, and are to be defended: “I believe that we are at a crossroads of America. The dying city is being rethought, but it is still being attacked and destroyed (though at a slower pace)” (xix). Cordescu is ready to fight for cities, and gives us hope for them, by indicating we're winning.
April 12, 2019
For the essay on New York. Read Codrescu whenever possible.
March 11, 2009
It doesn't get much better than Codrescu for commentary on modern american life... modern life in general in fact. Born in Romania, but raised up most of his adult life in the US and has, I'd say, converted to American... Not that he's an uncritical convert. Codrescu has a great love for much of America, but is hip to its faults and not afraid to speak them, but always with a dry and wry, but warm wit.
Hail Babylon is a collection of reflections and perceptions of cities across america, representing the various regions with broad generalizations and minute details giving a mostly personal view of the country and its cities. There aren't any conclusions or anything if you're looking for something like that, but it's a jolly interesting read, and you might think about some stuff afterwards... sound good?
Hail Babylon is a collection of reflections and perceptions of cities across america, representing the various regions with broad generalizations and minute details giving a mostly personal view of the country and its cities. There aren't any conclusions or anything if you're looking for something like that, but it's a jolly interesting read, and you might think about some stuff afterwards... sound good?
January 15, 2015
I think Codrescu is one of the finest writers and human beings around. His wit and appreciation for the the vagaries of people and places is impeccable. Here he gives his impressions of a number of large and medium-sized American cities, warts and all. Along the way, we get to enjoy his repartee with locals, appreciation for regional cuisine, kitsch, music and architecture. Some sections are stronger than others. All in all, highly readable, though.
Read
December 6, 2012a travel book on a travel. there's some logic in that.
November 7, 2014
Codrescu is observant, occasionally a bit snarky, but writes the truth as an observer not raised in this country.
April 19, 2016
Andrei Codrescu is a lyrical, witty genius. You must read everything by him immediately!
Displaying 1 - 7 of 7 reviews