What do you think?
Rate this book
Espèces d'espaces
Espèces d'espace, réflexions de l'auteur sur les lieux - la chambre, l'appartement, les escaliers, le mur, l'immeuble, la rue, le quartier, la ville, la campagne, le monde - sert de fil conducteur à ce portrait de Georges Perec.
-
PRÉSENTATION
« L’espace de notre vie n’est ni continu, ni infini, ni homogène, ni isotrope. Mais sait-on précisément où il se brise, où il se courbe, où il se déconnecte et où il se rassemble ? On sent confusément des fissures, des hiatus, des points de friction, on a parfois la vague impression que ça se coince quelque part, ou que ça éclate, ou que ça cogne. Nous cherchons rarement à en savoir davantage et le plus souvent nous passons d’un endroit à l’autre, d’un espace à l’autre sans songer à mesurer, à prendre en charge, à prendre en compte ces laps d’espace. Le problème n’est pas d’inventer l’espace, encore moins de le réinventer (trop de gens bien intentionnés sont là aujourd’hui pour penser notre environnement…), mais de l’interroger, ou, plus simplement encore, de le lire ; car ce que nous appelons quotidienneté n’est pas évidence, mais opacité : une forme de cécité, une manière d’anesthésie.
C’est à partir de ces constatations élémentaires que s’est développé ce livre, journal d’un usager de l’espace. »
G. P
-
PRÉSENTATION
« L’espace de notre vie n’est ni continu, ni infini, ni homogène, ni isotrope. Mais sait-on précisément où il se brise, où il se courbe, où il se déconnecte et où il se rassemble ? On sent confusément des fissures, des hiatus, des points de friction, on a parfois la vague impression que ça se coince quelque part, ou que ça éclate, ou que ça cogne. Nous cherchons rarement à en savoir davantage et le plus souvent nous passons d’un endroit à l’autre, d’un espace à l’autre sans songer à mesurer, à prendre en charge, à prendre en compte ces laps d’espace. Le problème n’est pas d’inventer l’espace, encore moins de le réinventer (trop de gens bien intentionnés sont là aujourd’hui pour penser notre environnement…), mais de l’interroger, ou, plus simplement encore, de le lire ; car ce que nous appelons quotidienneté n’est pas évidence, mais opacité : une forme de cécité, une manière d’anesthésie.
C’est à partir de ces constatations élémentaires que s’est développé ce livre, journal d’un usager de l’espace. »
G. P
124 pages, Paperback
First published January 1, 1974
321 people are currently reading
8262 people want to read
About the author
Georges Perec
138 books1,655 followersGeorges Perec was a highly-regarded French novelist, filmmaker, and essayist. He was a member of the Oulipo group. Many of his novels and essays abound with experimental wordplay, lists, and attempts at classification, and they are usually tinged with melancholy.
Born in a working-class district of Paris, Perec was the only son of Icek Judko and Cyrla (Schulewicz) Peretz, Polish Jews who had emigrated to France in the 1920s. He was a distant relative of the Yiddish writer Isaac Leib Peretz.
Perec's first novel, Les Choses (Things: A Story of the Sixties) was awarded the Prix Renaudot in 1965.
In 1978, Perec won the prix Médicis for Life: A User's Manual (French title, La Vie mode d'emploi), possibly his best-known work. The 99 chapters of this 600 page piece move like a knight's tour of a chessboard around the room plan of a Paris apartment building, describing the rooms and stairwell and telling the stories of the inhabitants.
Cantatrix Sopranica L. is a spoof scientific paper detailing experiments on the "yelling reaction" provoked in sopranos by pelting them with rotten tomatoes. All the references in the paper are multi-lingual puns and jokes, e.g. "(Karybb et Scyla, 1973)".
Perec is also noted for his constrained writing: his 300-page novel La disparition (1969) is a lipogram, written without ever using the letter "e". It has been translated into English by Gilbert Adair under the title A Void (1994). The silent disappearance of the letter might be considered a metaphor for the Jewish experience during the Second World War. Since the name 'Georges Perec' is full of 'e's, the disappearance of the letter also ensures the author's own 'disappearance'.
His novella Les revenentes (1972) is a complementary univocalic piece in which the letter "e" is the only vowel used. This constraint affects even the title, which would conventionally be spelt Revenantes. An English translation by Ian Monk was published in 1996 as The Exeter Text: Jewels, Secrets, Sex in the collection Three.
It has been remarked by Jacques Roubaud that these two novels draw words from two disjoint sets of the French language, and that a third novel would be possible, made from the words not used so far (those containing both "e" and a vowel other than "e").
W ou le souvenir d'enfance, (W, or, the Memory of Childhood, 1975) is a semi-autobiographical work which is hard to classify. Two alternating narratives make up the volume: one, a fictional outline of a totalitarian island country called "W", patterned partly on life in a concentration camp; and the second, descriptions of childhood. Both merge towards the end when the common theme of the Holocaust is explained.
Perec was a heavy smoker throughout his life, and was diagnosed with lung cancer in 1981. He died the following year in Ivry-sur-Seine at only forty-five-years old. His ashes are held at the columbarium of the Père Lachaise Cemetery.
David Bellos wrote an extensive biography of Perec: Georges Perec: A Life in Words, which won the Académie Goncourt's bourse for biography in 1994.
Born in a working-class district of Paris, Perec was the only son of Icek Judko and Cyrla (Schulewicz) Peretz, Polish Jews who had emigrated to France in the 1920s. He was a distant relative of the Yiddish writer Isaac Leib Peretz.
Perec's first novel, Les Choses (Things: A Story of the Sixties) was awarded the Prix Renaudot in 1965.
In 1978, Perec won the prix Médicis for Life: A User's Manual (French title, La Vie mode d'emploi), possibly his best-known work. The 99 chapters of this 600 page piece move like a knight's tour of a chessboard around the room plan of a Paris apartment building, describing the rooms and stairwell and telling the stories of the inhabitants.
Cantatrix Sopranica L. is a spoof scientific paper detailing experiments on the "yelling reaction" provoked in sopranos by pelting them with rotten tomatoes. All the references in the paper are multi-lingual puns and jokes, e.g. "(Karybb et Scyla, 1973)".
Perec is also noted for his constrained writing: his 300-page novel La disparition (1969) is a lipogram, written without ever using the letter "e". It has been translated into English by Gilbert Adair under the title A Void (1994). The silent disappearance of the letter might be considered a metaphor for the Jewish experience during the Second World War. Since the name 'Georges Perec' is full of 'e's, the disappearance of the letter also ensures the author's own 'disappearance'.
His novella Les revenentes (1972) is a complementary univocalic piece in which the letter "e" is the only vowel used. This constraint affects even the title, which would conventionally be spelt Revenantes. An English translation by Ian Monk was published in 1996 as The Exeter Text: Jewels, Secrets, Sex in the collection Three.
It has been remarked by Jacques Roubaud that these two novels draw words from two disjoint sets of the French language, and that a third novel would be possible, made from the words not used so far (those containing both "e" and a vowel other than "e").
W ou le souvenir d'enfance, (W, or, the Memory of Childhood, 1975) is a semi-autobiographical work which is hard to classify. Two alternating narratives make up the volume: one, a fictional outline of a totalitarian island country called "W", patterned partly on life in a concentration camp; and the second, descriptions of childhood. Both merge towards the end when the common theme of the Holocaust is explained.
Perec was a heavy smoker throughout his life, and was diagnosed with lung cancer in 1981. He died the following year in Ivry-sur-Seine at only forty-five-years old. His ashes are held at the columbarium of the Père Lachaise Cemetery.
David Bellos wrote an extensive biography of Perec: Georges Perec: A Life in Words, which won the Académie Goncourt's bourse for biography in 1994.
Ratings & Reviews
Friends & Following
Create a free account to discover what your friends think of this book!
Community Reviews
Displaying 1 - 30 of 362 reviews
May 5, 2020
Georges Perec (1936-1982) - “What a marvelous invention man is! He can blow on his hands to warm them up, and blow on his soup to cool it down.”
Georges Perec, age 45, told an interviewer how books by authors he loved when he was in his 20s were like pieces of a puzzle but there were still spaces between the pieces and those were the spaces where he could write. He went on to say how he would like to write everything in every way possible, including children’s books, science fiction, detective novels, cartoons, comedy, drama and film scripts. He also said that at the end of his life he would like to have used all the words in the dictionary and create some of his own words.
One can only imagine the many books Georges Perec would have written if he lived to be 86 instead of dying of lung cancer at 46.
Ah, Georges, language as celebration; language as game; language as play. As a way of reviewing this marvelous collection, I will cite a few quotes and offer brief comments on one essay, a 95 pager, where Perec writes about spaces moving from the micro to the macro, starting with The Page, The Bed, The Bedroom, The Apartment, The Apartment Building, The Street.
The Page
“This is how space begins, with words only, signs traced on the blank page. To describe space: to name it, to trace it, like those portolano-makers who saturated the coastlines with the names of harbors, the names of capes, the names of inlets, until in the end the land was only separated from the sea by a continuous ribbon of texts. Is the aleph, that place in Borges from which the entire world is visible simultaneously, anything other than the alphabet?”---------- Amazing. To view the Borgesian aleph, that all-seeing sphere, as the alphabet from which all words are created. And once words are created, is there any object or space, concept or material reality, large or small, gross or subtle, that cannot be labeled, marked, identified, described or categorized by words?
The Bed
“We generally utilize the page in the larger of its two dimensions. The same goes for the bed. The bed (or, if you prefer, the page) is a rectangular space, longer than it is wide, in which, or on which, we normally lie longways.” ---------- Oh my goodness, to see the similarities between the page one writes on (or reads from) and the bed one sleeps on.
The Bedroom
“The resurrected space of the bedroom is enough to bring back to life, to recall, to revive memories, the most fleeting and anodyne along with the most essential.” ---------- This is certainly true for me: I can’t visualize the large upstairs attic bedroom of my youth without recalling emotions and feeling I had when a child: the fear of the shadows cast on the walls at night, the sense of wonder when the sun streamed through the windows in the morning, the unsettling feelings when looking at all those odd ceiling angles.
The Apartment
“It takes a little more imagination no doubt to picture an apartment whose layout was based on the functioning of the senses. We can imagine well enough what a gustatorium might be, or an auditory, but one might wonder what a seeery might look like, or a smellery or a feelery.” ---------- Whimsy, fancy, vision, caprice, dream.
The Street
“Observe the street, from time to time, with some concern, for system perhaps. Apply yourself. Take your time. . . . Note down what you can see. Anything worthy of note going on. Do you know how to see what’s worthy of note? Is there anything that strikes you? Nothing strikes you. You don’t know how to see. You must set about it more slowly, almost stupidly. Force yourself to write down what is of no interest, what is most obvious, most common, most colourless.” --------- One could take the author’s words here as a mini-course in creative writing and creative seeing and living. As Georges Perec said in his interview, the empty spaces he leaves after his death are an invitation for others to continue the play and game of language and writing.
And in this essay he keeps on expanding: The Neighborhood, The Town, The Countryside, The Country, Europe, The World, Space. ---------- Go for it. There’s plenty of space for everyone.
UPDATE - May, 2020
George Perec's 1976 essay on reading is included in this Penguin edition. Exact title: Reading: A Socio-physiological Outline.
Here's a bit of the bizarre:
Some years back British author Simon Morris published his own exploration of the subjects covered in this Georges Perec essay on reading while retaining all other essays in Species of Spaces and Other Pieces exactly as they appeared in the Penguin.
Playing off of Georges Perec's metaphor for the manner in which the eye sweeps across the page while reading - "like a pigeon pecking at the ground in search of breadcrumbs" - the Simon Morris book is entitled Pigeon Reader.
In the next week or so I'll be posting my review of Pigeon Reader. Fun fact: to date there have been exactly zero Goodreads reviews of Simon Morris' Pigeon Reader.
September 19, 2018
This is one of those books where you feel the world around you expand, it's an enlightening and stimulating experience, dynamic, inspirational even, it will open your mind to architecture, furniture, and space dynamics. It will have you thinking deeply of your dining table, your home, your garden, your street, your town, and beyond. Perec was simply one of kind. My personal view is that we were robbed of one of one the geniuses of our time. Had he been around for longer, I am sure his work would have got better and better. Not that there was anything wrong with it in the first place. Perec pays close attention (when I say close attention, I REALLY mean close attention) to everything around him, zooming out from the page he writes on the the whole of the space and it's nature, along the way he observes things as simple as a man locking his car to go to the store, the number and types of places he has slept in, and what happens to the picture and the wall its hung on, all in an inviting, welcoming voice. He feels like a friend, not just a writer. You don't want to leave his company. Part of this inviting friendliness comes from him inviting you to do the same as him. Simply Observe everything around you. Not just observation exercises, it goes deeper than that. In Species, Perec with a warm handshake entices you to look around your own city without boring you with actual full examples of exhaustive lists, making this work an enjoyable read rather than a trite and boring one. It's an eye-opener, and reading Perec certainly makes you feel truly alive, he will drag you out of a slumber, and give you a shot of Espresso with this book. He peels layers off the world around us like casually picking away at a piece of fruit. The bonus - a short story 'The Winter's Journey is also included, which is pretty darn good as well!
May 22, 2019
Η πρώτη μου επαφή με τον Perec ήταν με την Ιδιωτική Πινακοθήκη η οποία δυστυχώς δεν μου ταίριαξε καθόλου. Ωστόσο, μου άφησε την αίσθηση ότι ο συγγραφέας ήταν ένας γρίφος που ήθελα πραγματικά να λύσω. Έτσι αποφάσισα, να πιάσω τις Χορείες χώρων.
Δεν μπορώ να σας πω πολλά για το βιβλίο γιατί είναι απο τις περιπτώσεις που πρέπει να το διαβάσεις για να καταλάβεις για το τί ακριβώς πρόκειται. Με πολύ απλά λόγια, ο Perec μας μιλάει για των χώρο από κάθε πιθανή οπτική και κλίμακα. Αυτό όμως που λέω αδικεί τόσο πολύ το βιβλίο γιατι είναι πραγματικά απολαυστικό. Διάβαζα λίγες λίγες σελίδες πηγαίνοντας συνεχώς μπρος-πίσω για να ξαναδιαβάσω αποσπάσματα που ήθελα να μείνουν χαραγμένα στην μνήμη μου.
Ο Perec επιτυγχάνει μία μοναδική εναλλαγή ανάμεσα στην καταγραφή απλών, καθημερινών πραγμάτων που τις περισσότερες φορές περνάνε απαρατήρητα και στην ποιητική ματιά που μπορεί να τους δώσει με μία-δύο μόνο λέξεις.
Αν κρατούσα ένα πράγμα από το βιβλίο πέρα της μοναδικής ευφυίας του συγγραφέα είναι αυτή του η ερώτηση:
“Σημείωσε ο, τι αξιοσημείωτο συμβαίνει. Ξέρεις να διακρίνεις τα αξιοσημείωτα;”
Η απάντηση είναι περισσότερο πολύπλοκη απ’ ότι νόμιζα και πολύ πιο προσωπική απ’ ότι θα μπορούσα να μοιραστώ μαζί σας.
Δεν έχει σημασία, όμως.
Σημασία έχει ότι έγινε η ερώτηση.
Δεν μπορώ να σας πω πολλά για το βιβλίο γιατί είναι απο τις περιπτώσεις που πρέπει να το διαβάσεις για να καταλάβεις για το τί ακριβώς πρόκειται. Με πολύ απλά λόγια, ο Perec μας μιλάει για των χώρο από κάθε πιθανή οπτική και κλίμακα. Αυτό όμως που λέω αδικεί τόσο πολύ το βιβλίο γιατι είναι πραγματικά απολαυστικό. Διάβαζα λίγες λίγες σελίδες πηγαίνοντας συνεχώς μπρος-πίσω για να ξαναδιαβάσω αποσπάσματα που ήθελα να μείνουν χαραγμένα στην μνήμη μου.
Ο Perec επιτυγχάνει μία μοναδική εναλλαγή ανάμεσα στην καταγραφή απλών, καθημερινών πραγμάτων που τις περισσότερες φορές περνάνε απαρατήρητα και στην ποιητική ματιά που μπορεί να τους δώσει με μία-δύο μόνο λέξεις.
Αν κρατούσα ένα πράγμα από το βιβλίο πέρα της μοναδικής ευφυίας του συγγραφέα είναι αυτή του η ερώτηση:
“Σημείωσε ο, τι αξιοσημείωτο συμβαίνει. Ξέρεις να διακρίνεις τα αξιοσημείωτα;”
Η απάντηση είναι περισσότερο πολύπλοκη απ’ ότι νόμιζα και πολύ πιο προσωπική απ’ ότι θα μπορούσα να μοιραστώ μαζί σας.
Δεν έχει σημασία, όμως.
Σημασία έχει ότι έγινε η ερώτηση.
Read
August 14, 2018Genius.. και καψιαρικο!
October 31, 2025
"Για χρόνια πλάγιαζα γραπτώς
Parcel Mroust"
Μπορείς να μην τον αγαπήσεις, τον Κερέπ;
Έξυπνο κείμενο, παιγνιώδες, διακριτικά μελαγχολικό, όπως κι ο συντάκτης του. Ο Περέκ έλκεται από τη γητειά των λέξεων όπως οι νυχτοπεταλούδες από την αναμμένη λάμπα. Επείγεται να διασώσει κάτι απ’ τη συνεχή ροή της εμπειρίας, ονοματίζοντας το.
Απ’ το κέντρο του κρεβατιού του, το κέντρο του σύμπαντος.
Υπάρχει ένας αστεροειδής, μεταξύ Άρη και Δία, που φέρει τ’ όνομα του. Κάπου εκεί πάνω, ανάμεσα σε εκατομμύρια άλλους: ο «2817 Περέκ».
Lawrence Weiner, As Long As It Lasts, 1992
Parcel Mroust"
Μπορείς να μην τον αγαπήσεις, τον Κερέπ;
Έξυπνο κείμενο, παιγνιώδες, διακριτικά μελαγχολικό, όπως κι ο συντάκτης του. Ο Περέκ έλκεται από τη γητειά των λέξεων όπως οι νυχτοπεταλούδες από την αναμμένη λάμπα. Επείγεται να διασώσει κάτι απ’ τη συνεχή ροή της εμπειρίας, ονοματίζοντας το.
Απ’ το κέντρο του κρεβατιού του, το κέντρο του σύμπαντος.
Υπάρχει ένας αστεροειδής, μεταξύ Άρη και Δία, που φέρει τ’ όνομα του. Κάπου εκεί πάνω, ανάμεσα σε εκατομμύρια άλλους: ο «2817 Περέκ».
Lawrence Weiner, As Long As It Lasts, 1992
October 22, 2018
First time reading Perec. It felt strange, real, dreamy and at times, too honest. I liked it. And i believe, the more time passes, the more i am into the book. Great stuff.
October 26, 2016
I think, in order to properly review Species of Spaces you have to be as genius as Perec was and I'm not. I don't think there's any point in talking about this little book. Just read it and let it make its way inside you the way it's meant to. It must also be quite an experience to read it under the influence of hallucinogenics, although, it can act like one by itself. Great stuff!
July 11, 2018
Πρώτη φορά διαβάζω Περέκ και οι εντυπώσεις που μου άφησε είναι πολύ καλές. Δεν ξέρω πόσοι συγγραφείς έχουν την ικανότητα να συλλογίζονται, να φαντάζονται και να δημιουργούν έργο, από απλά, βαρετά και ίσως φαινομενικά ανούσια πράγματα των όσων μας περιβάλλουν -στην πραγματικότητα το σκηνικό που στήνεται όλη μας η ζωή: οι δρόμοι, τα σπίτια, οι άνθρωποι που συναντάμε καθημερινά...
March 30, 2013
Species of Spaces 5/5:
Something about Perec’s originality just really gets me. His attention to detail, his ability to notice the everyday, but more so his taking the time to pay attention, to notice the everyday is some combination of the words “breathtaking” and “touching” that I can’t pin down. It’s like he embodies those hackneyed saying “you’ve got to stop to smell the roses” or “Life move’s pretty fast. If you don’t stop and look around, you might miss it” (thanks Ferris). Of course, Perec does it without the “hackney.” He explains how to see something intimately familiar for the first time: “Make an effort to exhaust the subject, even if that seems grotesque, or pointless, or stupid. You still haven’t looked at anything, you’ve merely picked out what you’ve long ago picked out” (50).
I’m not sure that makes much sense, so I’ll say that one other thing that I love about Perec is that he really does challenge me to think differently. It actually took me a while to wrap my head around the concept of “space.” Space is the nothingness, the void all around us, right? How could one write a book about that? After all, it’s impossible to think about or write about nothing, since, in doing so one would inherently be thinking about or writing about something. (Perec considers this type of space when he “tried to think of an apartment in which there would be a useless room, absolutely and intentionally useless…[but] language itself, seemingly, proved unsuited to describing this nothing, this void, as if we could only speak of what is full, useful, functional” [33].) So what “space” then? Well, first, it’s not “space” but “spaces.” That makes all the difference. Perec writes of the various spaces in which we live. It still took my mind sometime to come to terms with this use of “spaces”: why not “places,” “locations,” even “borders” since it really is the borders that define a space. However, “spaces” is the perfect term, for not all are places or locations, and the very ethereal and mutable nature of boarders makes that term inappropriate. So “spaces” it is. But how can they be divided into “species”?
1) The Book
Filled with nothing but idiosyncratic arrangements in horizontal lines of twenty-six phonetic symbols, ten numbers, and maybe eight punctuation marks, all in black. However, “filled” is inaccurate—there’s a lot of white “space” on each page. In the margins. Both left and right. Top and bottom. Small white gaps in-between words. Larger ones in-between paragraphs.
"• Product Dimensions: 5.1 x 0.7 x 7.8 inches
• Shipping Weight: 9.1 ounces"
Yet in the limited space of a book, one could count himself the king of infinite space. I read. I travel to Paris. I travel to cafes and apartments and streets and metros and countrysides.
I travel back in time.
I travel, with limitless potential, through my own mind. This travel affects the book. Suddenly the white of the margins is overrun by “haha”s or “interesting thought”s or “”s or “ “s.
The book will find its place on a shelf, alphabetized (of course). But it may lie horizontally atop the other Perecs due to lack of space on the shelf.
2) The Couch
Where I finished reading the book. Although most of it was read in the bed, Perec does a chapter on the bed. Also, the couch has “extra” pillows on it, just as the bed does. So, the couch. The first thing that this space now makes me painfully aware of is my woefully limited vocabulary when it comes to colors. Green-ish is the best I can do. Three cushions. One white thread sticking out (note: will have to turn that one over, unless there is already a stain hiding on its reverse). Cloth type? Again woefully uninstructed. Soft-ish. Relatively clean, until one looks beneath or between the cushions. Then dog hair and various debris (pebbles?!) are plainly viewed. And one of those little Cadbury mini-eggs. I was eating those earlier—they are freakin’ delicious.
Speaking of eating, the couch is a space of much potential: eating, sleeping, sitting, resting, reclining (feet up on the couch or sliding off onto the floor—or even a footstool!), watching television, playing Playstation 3, thinking, drifting, snacking, screwing, talking, jumping (oh, when we were young), hiding money or other booty (not in this couch, but in 25th Hour Ed Norton’s character hid his drugs and/or money in the couch and when the FBI guy came to arrest him, he sat on the couch and commented how the cushions felt because he already knew the money and/or drugs were in the cushions because someone had tipped him off), and reading.
This couch has been in two houses. It was once in my parents’ living room or possibly dining room. It was not there to be sat upon; rather, it was there to wait for the impending move into my house. We bought this couch at Bob’s Discount Furniture, from “The Pit” of course. I say “of course” because I am extremely frugal and love a good deal—and I’ll be damned if I care if the couch has a scratch on the back if it’ll save me $250 dollars. Because of this, though, this couch necessitated many trips to “The Pit.” Because of the hit-or-miss inventory of said “Pit,” it is nearly impossible to find a full living room set in one trip. Thus, the matching chaise lounge was acquired later. Now the couch and chaise serve as the primary spaces on which one can sit (or lie etc.) in my living room.
Scout is allowed on the couch. That explains the dog hair beneath and in-between the cushions. I am in charge of vacuuming, which also explains the dog hair beneath and in-between the cushions of the couch.
I spend a lot of time on the couch. Probably more than in any other space except the bed. (Sad, what a sedentary life!) I am even on the couch this very moment at 5:39 PM on Saturday March 23, 2013. This makes me realize that I forgot one (and probably many more) more thing one can do on the couch: use a Dell netbook.
3) The Living Room
Here’s where it’s still occasionally hard for me to think of “spaces” without liming myself to “boundaries” or “borders.” For example, a good portion of the living room is penned off. Quite literally. There is a large, plastic, interconnected set of grey gates, which we affectionately refer to as “The Cage.” This is where we store our one year old son. (Even I just became aware of my then unconscious shift from first person singular to first person plural, as if I am trying to adulterate my own culpability.) “The Cage” is filled with…well too many toys, knickknacks, games, books, stuffed animals, whatsits, and other baubles, thingamajigs, and miscellany.
It’s funny to think of the name “living room,” as if that is the only room in which one actually lives, or perhaps the room in which one is most alive. Because televisions are common staples of living rooms, I would argue that it is quite the opposite: the living room may be the room where one is least alive—becoming a mindless “boob” watching his tube. That said, there is a 47” flat panel Samsung HD television residing atop the mantle of my living, as if it is the centerpiece, perhaps of the entire room. Relegated to the periphery are the bookshelves. One tall and wide (A-M), one short and wide (M-R), and one tall and thin (R-Z). These are each placed in one of the five corners of the room. Yes, I actually just counted five. The walls are yellow (a color I know!), in fact, I might even say light-yellow. This, I feel, brightens the room, enlivening it so that it lives up to its name. Artificial light beams in through one window that is actually in the living room and from two that are outside of this space. There are no doors, but there are, I suppose, what should be called “doorways.” I like an open floor plan, especially in a small house. There are three lamps from a set—housewarming gifts from, I believe, my sister. There is one lamp with a mosaic of tiles depicting Testudo, The University of Maryland’s noble mascot. (Testudo—a stuffed version—also stands gracefully atop the tall and wide bookshelf (A-M) along with other novelties: a Rubix cube with an all white face facing roomwise since that is the only side complete, a green visor that says “Las Vegas” on it in white lettering, a small globe, a stuffed Quinnipiac University mascot [Bobcat], a certificate affirming that Erin and I “rose above” by venturing in a hot air balloon above San Diego. In addition to books, there are also other items on the shelves, most of which are there so that, when freed of his cage, the one year old does not mangle them: glasses, a pocketwatch, numerous pens and bookmarks, flashcards—remnants from 2008’s GRE cramming, a camera, a utilities bill, dust.)
Other items in the living room: stray coupons, pictures (of our wedding, our son, our niece, us at a wedding, us in a hot air balloon, a caricature of us at the San Diego Zoo, “paintings” purchased at Kohl’s of Venetian canals), baby powder, diapers, a fake fireplace, candles, a coffee table with coasters and lamps and pictures on top and a whole heap of “miscellaneous” books beneath, un-put-away clothes, my work briefcase/bag, a cell phone charger, a pillow on the floor (Scout’s), an i-pod touch, a basket of dog toys, and, at this very moment, a dog right up in my grill as I, also in the living room, sit on the couch typing.
In retrospect, I see that the description of this space was largely an inventory of items populating the space; however, how easily one can glean all sorts of things about life (my life) from that inventory. A living room, indeed. Sort of a collection of living, now in this room.
4) The House
5) The Neighborhood
6) The Town
7) The State
8) The Region
9) The Country
10) The World
AND THAT IS HOW THIS BOOK GOT ME >THINKING! If my wife, son, and dog didn’t suddenly invade my space on the couch in the living room with my book, I might like to continue this activity. But, time is the enemy of space, and it has won this round.
and Other Pieces 5/5:
I initially planned to review each piece separately, but there are like 25 of them. Some better than others, but all worth reading for Perec fans.
A Favorite Quotation
-"Literature is indissolubly bound up with life, it is the necessary prolongation, the obvious culmination, the indispensable complement of experience. All experience opens on to literature and all literature on to experience, and the path that leads from one to the other, whether it be literary creation or reading, establishes this relationship between the fragmentary and the whole, this passage from the anecdotal to the historical, this interplay between the general and the particular, between what is felt and what is understood, which form the very tissue of our consciousness." (254)
Something about Perec’s originality just really gets me. His attention to detail, his ability to notice the everyday, but more so his taking the time to pay attention, to notice the everyday is some combination of the words “breathtaking” and “touching” that I can’t pin down. It’s like he embodies those hackneyed saying “you’ve got to stop to smell the roses” or “Life move’s pretty fast. If you don’t stop and look around, you might miss it” (thanks Ferris). Of course, Perec does it without the “hackney.” He explains how to see something intimately familiar for the first time: “Make an effort to exhaust the subject, even if that seems grotesque, or pointless, or stupid. You still haven’t looked at anything, you’ve merely picked out what you’ve long ago picked out” (50).
I’m not sure that makes much sense, so I’ll say that one other thing that I love about Perec is that he really does challenge me to think differently. It actually took me a while to wrap my head around the concept of “space.” Space is the nothingness, the void all around us, right? How could one write a book about that? After all, it’s impossible to think about or write about nothing, since, in doing so one would inherently be thinking about or writing about something. (Perec considers this type of space when he “tried to think of an apartment in which there would be a useless room, absolutely and intentionally useless…[but] language itself, seemingly, proved unsuited to describing this nothing, this void, as if we could only speak of what is full, useful, functional” [33].) So what “space” then? Well, first, it’s not “space” but “spaces.” That makes all the difference. Perec writes of the various spaces in which we live. It still took my mind sometime to come to terms with this use of “spaces”: why not “places,” “locations,” even “borders” since it really is the borders that define a space. However, “spaces” is the perfect term, for not all are places or locations, and the very ethereal and mutable nature of boarders makes that term inappropriate. So “spaces” it is. But how can they be divided into “species”?
1) The Book
Filled with nothing but idiosyncratic arrangements in horizontal lines of twenty-six phonetic symbols, ten numbers, and maybe eight punctuation marks, all in black. However, “filled” is inaccurate—there’s a lot of white “space” on each page. In the margins. Both left and right. Top and bottom. Small white gaps in-between words. Larger ones in-between paragraphs.
"• Product Dimensions: 5.1 x 0.7 x 7.8 inches
• Shipping Weight: 9.1 ounces"
Yet in the limited space of a book, one could count himself the king of infinite space. I read. I travel to Paris. I travel to cafes and apartments and streets and metros and countrysides.
I travel back in time.
I travel, with limitless potential, through my own mind. This travel affects the book. Suddenly the white of the margins is overrun by “haha”s or “interesting thought”s or “”s or “ “s.
The book will find its place on a shelf, alphabetized (of course). But it may lie horizontally atop the other Perecs due to lack of space on the shelf.
2) The Couch
Where I finished reading the book. Although most of it was read in the bed, Perec does a chapter on the bed. Also, the couch has “extra” pillows on it, just as the bed does. So, the couch. The first thing that this space now makes me painfully aware of is my woefully limited vocabulary when it comes to colors. Green-ish is the best I can do. Three cushions. One white thread sticking out (note: will have to turn that one over, unless there is already a stain hiding on its reverse). Cloth type? Again woefully uninstructed. Soft-ish. Relatively clean, until one looks beneath or between the cushions. Then dog hair and various debris (pebbles?!) are plainly viewed. And one of those little Cadbury mini-eggs. I was eating those earlier—they are freakin’ delicious.
Speaking of eating, the couch is a space of much potential: eating, sleeping, sitting, resting, reclining (feet up on the couch or sliding off onto the floor—or even a footstool!), watching television, playing Playstation 3, thinking, drifting, snacking, screwing, talking, jumping (oh, when we were young), hiding money or other booty (not in this couch, but in 25th Hour Ed Norton’s character hid his drugs and/or money in the couch and when the FBI guy came to arrest him, he sat on the couch and commented how the cushions felt because he already knew the money and/or drugs were in the cushions because someone had tipped him off), and reading.
This couch has been in two houses. It was once in my parents’ living room or possibly dining room. It was not there to be sat upon; rather, it was there to wait for the impending move into my house. We bought this couch at Bob’s Discount Furniture, from “The Pit” of course. I say “of course” because I am extremely frugal and love a good deal—and I’ll be damned if I care if the couch has a scratch on the back if it’ll save me $250 dollars. Because of this, though, this couch necessitated many trips to “The Pit.” Because of the hit-or-miss inventory of said “Pit,” it is nearly impossible to find a full living room set in one trip. Thus, the matching chaise lounge was acquired later. Now the couch and chaise serve as the primary spaces on which one can sit (or lie etc.) in my living room.
Scout is allowed on the couch. That explains the dog hair beneath and in-between the cushions. I am in charge of vacuuming, which also explains the dog hair beneath and in-between the cushions of the couch.
I spend a lot of time on the couch. Probably more than in any other space except the bed. (Sad, what a sedentary life!) I am even on the couch this very moment at 5:39 PM on Saturday March 23, 2013. This makes me realize that I forgot one (and probably many more) more thing one can do on the couch: use a Dell netbook.
3) The Living Room
Here’s where it’s still occasionally hard for me to think of “spaces” without liming myself to “boundaries” or “borders.” For example, a good portion of the living room is penned off. Quite literally. There is a large, plastic, interconnected set of grey gates, which we affectionately refer to as “The Cage.” This is where we store our one year old son. (Even I just became aware of my then unconscious shift from first person singular to first person plural, as if I am trying to adulterate my own culpability.) “The Cage” is filled with…well too many toys, knickknacks, games, books, stuffed animals, whatsits, and other baubles, thingamajigs, and miscellany.
It’s funny to think of the name “living room,” as if that is the only room in which one actually lives, or perhaps the room in which one is most alive. Because televisions are common staples of living rooms, I would argue that it is quite the opposite: the living room may be the room where one is least alive—becoming a mindless “boob” watching his tube. That said, there is a 47” flat panel Samsung HD television residing atop the mantle of my living, as if it is the centerpiece, perhaps of the entire room. Relegated to the periphery are the bookshelves. One tall and wide (A-M), one short and wide (M-R), and one tall and thin (R-Z). These are each placed in one of the five corners of the room. Yes, I actually just counted five. The walls are yellow (a color I know!), in fact, I might even say light-yellow. This, I feel, brightens the room, enlivening it so that it lives up to its name. Artificial light beams in through one window that is actually in the living room and from two that are outside of this space. There are no doors, but there are, I suppose, what should be called “doorways.” I like an open floor plan, especially in a small house. There are three lamps from a set—housewarming gifts from, I believe, my sister. There is one lamp with a mosaic of tiles depicting Testudo, The University of Maryland’s noble mascot. (Testudo—a stuffed version—also stands gracefully atop the tall and wide bookshelf (A-M) along with other novelties: a Rubix cube with an all white face facing roomwise since that is the only side complete, a green visor that says “Las Vegas” on it in white lettering, a small globe, a stuffed Quinnipiac University mascot [Bobcat], a certificate affirming that Erin and I “rose above” by venturing in a hot air balloon above San Diego. In addition to books, there are also other items on the shelves, most of which are there so that, when freed of his cage, the one year old does not mangle them: glasses, a pocketwatch, numerous pens and bookmarks, flashcards—remnants from 2008’s GRE cramming, a camera, a utilities bill, dust.)
Other items in the living room: stray coupons, pictures (of our wedding, our son, our niece, us at a wedding, us in a hot air balloon, a caricature of us at the San Diego Zoo, “paintings” purchased at Kohl’s of Venetian canals), baby powder, diapers, a fake fireplace, candles, a coffee table with coasters and lamps and pictures on top and a whole heap of “miscellaneous” books beneath, un-put-away clothes, my work briefcase/bag, a cell phone charger, a pillow on the floor (Scout’s), an i-pod touch, a basket of dog toys, and, at this very moment, a dog right up in my grill as I, also in the living room, sit on the couch typing.
In retrospect, I see that the description of this space was largely an inventory of items populating the space; however, how easily one can glean all sorts of things about life (my life) from that inventory. A living room, indeed. Sort of a collection of living, now in this room.
4) The House
5) The Neighborhood
6) The Town
7) The State
8) The Region
9) The Country
10) The World
AND THAT IS HOW THIS BOOK GOT ME >THINKING! If my wife, son, and dog didn’t suddenly invade my space on the couch in the living room with my book, I might like to continue this activity. But, time is the enemy of space, and it has won this round.
and Other Pieces 5/5:
I initially planned to review each piece separately, but there are like 25 of them. Some better than others, but all worth reading for Perec fans.
A Favorite Quotation
-"Literature is indissolubly bound up with life, it is the necessary prolongation, the obvious culmination, the indispensable complement of experience. All experience opens on to literature and all literature on to experience, and the path that leads from one to the other, whether it be literary creation or reading, establishes this relationship between the fragmentary and the whole, this passage from the anecdotal to the historical, this interplay between the general and the particular, between what is felt and what is understood, which form the very tissue of our consciousness." (254)
May 3, 2020
İçinde bulunduğumuz ortamda var olan ancak dikkatimizi vermediğimiz ya da üstünde durup düşünmediğimiz eşyalar, hareketler veya ortamın/mekanın bizzat kendisi hakkında yazıyor Perec. Keskin zekasını, zengin kelime haznesi ve gözlem yeteneğiyle birleştiriyor. Bazen açmaza sürüklüyor insanı, örneğin; kullanılamaz olan ve kullanılmayan mekanın değil, yararsız olan mekanın peşinde koşuyor, tatmin edici bir neticeye asla varamıyor, yararsız olan mekan yok çünkü.
Bakma ve görme üzerine alıştırmaları sunuyor, boş bir sayfadan başlayıp çemberi büyüterek yatak, oda, ev, sokak, şehir, ülke derken uzaya kadar uzanıyor. Sadece sayfiye tarifi bildiğim tarife uymuyor, banliyöyü sayfiye olarak tanımlıyor Perec, ben ise sayfiye denilince deniz kıyısına en azından geniş bir suya yakın yerleri anlıyorum.
Edebiyat ile ilişkisini okurluktan yazarlığa yönlendirmek isteyenler için çok yararlı okuma sağlayacak bir Perec klasiği.
Kitabın ilk bölümü 150 sayfa, geriye kalan 100 sayfa ise “son söz” olarak editör Cem İleri’nin kaleme aldığı Perec uslubu ve tarzı ile yazılmış ilginç bir çalışması var, adı “Yararsız Bir Mekana Dair”. Bu yazısında Cem İleri, “Mekan, Feşmekan”ın Perec’in yazı hayatını ikiye bölerek tam ortasında yer aldığını, hem önceki yapıtlarının bir açılımını yaptığını hem de sonradan yazacağı birçok önemli eserinin ipuçlarını verdiğini, onların habercisi olduğunu örneklerle anlatıyor. En az Perec’in yazdıkları kadar ilgi çekici buldum. Çok emek vererek yazılmış bir yazı, önsöz olarak okunsa daha mı iyi olurdu acaba ?
G. Perec’i daha iyi tanımak isteyenlere öneririm.
Bakma ve görme üzerine alıştırmaları sunuyor, boş bir sayfadan başlayıp çemberi büyüterek yatak, oda, ev, sokak, şehir, ülke derken uzaya kadar uzanıyor. Sadece sayfiye tarifi bildiğim tarife uymuyor, banliyöyü sayfiye olarak tanımlıyor Perec, ben ise sayfiye denilince deniz kıyısına en azından geniş bir suya yakın yerleri anlıyorum.
Edebiyat ile ilişkisini okurluktan yazarlığa yönlendirmek isteyenler için çok yararlı okuma sağlayacak bir Perec klasiği.
Kitabın ilk bölümü 150 sayfa, geriye kalan 100 sayfa ise “son söz” olarak editör Cem İleri’nin kaleme aldığı Perec uslubu ve tarzı ile yazılmış ilginç bir çalışması var, adı “Yararsız Bir Mekana Dair”. Bu yazısında Cem İleri, “Mekan, Feşmekan”ın Perec’in yazı hayatını ikiye bölerek tam ortasında yer aldığını, hem önceki yapıtlarının bir açılımını yaptığını hem de sonradan yazacağı birçok önemli eserinin ipuçlarını verdiğini, onların habercisi olduğunu örneklerle anlatıyor. En az Perec’in yazdıkları kadar ilgi çekici buldum. Çok emek vererek yazılmış bir yazı, önsöz olarak okunsa daha mı iyi olurdu acaba ?
G. Perec’i daha iyi tanımak isteyenlere öneririm.
September 12, 2019
Ο χώρος, η χώρα, η εξοχή, η πόλη, ο δρόμος, το σπίτι, το δωμάτιο, το κρεβάτι και πάλι ο χώρος.
Ο χώρος, αν και πιο συγκεκριμένος από το χρόνο, λιώνει σαν άμμος που κυλά ανάμεσα στα δάχτυλα, κ ο Περεκ προσπαθεί να τον ταγκαρει με ιστορίες διαφορετικές, με πολλαπλές οπτικές, με εναλλασσόμενες προοπτικές.
Τελικά ο καθένας μας ορίζει το χώρο κ όχι το αντίστροφο
Ο χώρος, αν και πιο συγκεκριμένος από το χρόνο, λιώνει σαν άμμος που κυλά ανάμεσα στα δάχτυλα, κ ο Περεκ προσπαθεί να τον ταγκαρει με ιστορίες διαφορετικές, με πολλαπλές οπτικές, με εναλλασσόμενες προοπτικές.
Τελικά ο καθένας μας ορίζει το χώρο κ όχι το αντίστροφο
January 14, 2024
Jeux de pistes
Une collection d'observations poussées sur les espaces fréquentés par leur auteur : pages, chambres, appartements, lieux publics, pays étrangers... Ces points de vue sont la base de jeux formels qui invitent à délaisser la fausse évidence du lieu donné comme tel, pour lui-même. Enfin, on attaque la création imaginaire et mémorielle des espaces. L'espace d'une lecture, on oublie ces catégories mentales qui fondent les espaces comme espaces !
J'ai franchement aimé la portée des réflexions ludiques de Pérec, ce franc-tireur génial qui a toujours un mécanisme littéraire à démonter et remonter, un catalogue loufoque à établir, un puzzle gigantesque à concevoir. Si je tire d'Espèces d'espaces une impression générale de fouillis qui m'a un peu refroidi la lecture terminée, je m'aperçois au bout du compte que j'aurais bien apprécié davantage de matière sur chaque sujet, mais enfin la forme est un brin infléchie par l'objet d'étude, qui cherche à se dérober au regard comme une évidence. Finalement, c'est souvent par le jeu et le regard neuf qu'il offre qu'on touche au fond des choses.
----------------------
Extraits :
'Noter ce que l'on voit. Ce qui se passe de notable. [...]
Se forcer à épuiser le sujet, même si ça a l'air grotesque, ou futile, ou stupide. On n'a encore rien regardé, on n'a fait que repérer ce que l'on avait depuis longtemps repéré. [...]
Continuer
Jusqu'à ce que le lieu devienne improbable
jusqu'à ressentir, pendant un très bref instant, l'impression d'être dans une ville étrangère, ou mieux encore, jusqu’à ne plus comprendre ce qui se passe ou ce qui ne se passe pas, que le lieu tout entier devienne étranger, que l’on ne sache même plus que ça s’appelle une ville, une rue, des immeubles, des trottoirs…'
'Étonnement et déception des voyages. Illusion d'avoir vaincu la distance, d'avoir effacé le temps. Être loin. Ou plutôt, découvrir ce que l'on a jamais vu, ce qu'on attendait pas, ce qu'on imaginait pas. Ce n'est pas ce qui a été au fil du temps, recensé dans l'éventail des surprises ou des merveilles de ce monde ; ce n'est ni le grandiose, ni l’impressionnant ; ce n'est pas forcément l'étranger : ce serait plutôt, au contraire, le familier retrouvé, l'espace fraternel...'
'Le monde, non plus comme un parcours sans cesse à refaire, non pas comme une course sans fin, un défi sans cesse à relever, non pas comme le seul prétexte d'une accumulation désespérante, ni comme l'illusion d'une conquête, mais comme la retrouvaille d'un sens, perception d'une écriture terrestre, d'une géographie dont nous avons oublié que nous sommes les auteurs.'
'J’aimerais qu’il existe des lieux stables, immobiles, intangibles, intouchés et presque intouchables, immuables, enracinés ; des lieux qui seraient des références, des points de départ, des sources [...]
De tels lieux n'existent pas, et c'est parce qu'ils n'existent pas que l'espace devient question, cesse d'être évidence, cesse d'être incorporé, cesse d'être approprié. L'espace est un doute : il me faut sans cesse le marquer, le désigner [...].
Écrire : essayer méticuleusement de retenir quelque chose : arracher quelques bribes précises au vide qui se creuse, laisser, quelque part, un sillon, une trace, une marque ou quelques signes.'
-----------------
Voir aussi :
La forme d'une ville
Ougarit
Histoires de Barcelone = Historias de Barcelona
Istanbul: souvenirs d'une ville
La Guerre du faux
Atlas des Curiosités
El libro de arena
Kéraban le Têtu
Ulysses
The Simulacra
Flow My Tears, the Policeman Said
The Life and Opinions of Tristram Shandy, Gentleman
La Vie mode d'emploi
Les Choses
L'automne à Pékin
Le Langage moderne de l'architecture: Pour une approche anticlassique
In Praise of Shadows
--------
Accompagnement musical
Une collection d'observations poussées sur les espaces fréquentés par leur auteur : pages, chambres, appartements, lieux publics, pays étrangers... Ces points de vue sont la base de jeux formels qui invitent à délaisser la fausse évidence du lieu donné comme tel, pour lui-même. Enfin, on attaque la création imaginaire et mémorielle des espaces. L'espace d'une lecture, on oublie ces catégories mentales qui fondent les espaces comme espaces !
J'ai franchement aimé la portée des réflexions ludiques de Pérec, ce franc-tireur génial qui a toujours un mécanisme littéraire à démonter et remonter, un catalogue loufoque à établir, un puzzle gigantesque à concevoir. Si je tire d'Espèces d'espaces une impression générale de fouillis qui m'a un peu refroidi la lecture terminée, je m'aperçois au bout du compte que j'aurais bien apprécié davantage de matière sur chaque sujet, mais enfin la forme est un brin infléchie par l'objet d'étude, qui cherche à se dérober au regard comme une évidence. Finalement, c'est souvent par le jeu et le regard neuf qu'il offre qu'on touche au fond des choses.
----------------------
Extraits :
'Noter ce que l'on voit. Ce qui se passe de notable. [...]
Se forcer à épuiser le sujet, même si ça a l'air grotesque, ou futile, ou stupide. On n'a encore rien regardé, on n'a fait que repérer ce que l'on avait depuis longtemps repéré. [...]
Continuer
Jusqu'à ce que le lieu devienne improbable
jusqu'à ressentir, pendant un très bref instant, l'impression d'être dans une ville étrangère, ou mieux encore, jusqu’à ne plus comprendre ce qui se passe ou ce qui ne se passe pas, que le lieu tout entier devienne étranger, que l’on ne sache même plus que ça s’appelle une ville, une rue, des immeubles, des trottoirs…'
'Étonnement et déception des voyages. Illusion d'avoir vaincu la distance, d'avoir effacé le temps. Être loin. Ou plutôt, découvrir ce que l'on a jamais vu, ce qu'on attendait pas, ce qu'on imaginait pas. Ce n'est pas ce qui a été au fil du temps, recensé dans l'éventail des surprises ou des merveilles de ce monde ; ce n'est ni le grandiose, ni l’impressionnant ; ce n'est pas forcément l'étranger : ce serait plutôt, au contraire, le familier retrouvé, l'espace fraternel...'
'Le monde, non plus comme un parcours sans cesse à refaire, non pas comme une course sans fin, un défi sans cesse à relever, non pas comme le seul prétexte d'une accumulation désespérante, ni comme l'illusion d'une conquête, mais comme la retrouvaille d'un sens, perception d'une écriture terrestre, d'une géographie dont nous avons oublié que nous sommes les auteurs.'
'J’aimerais qu’il existe des lieux stables, immobiles, intangibles, intouchés et presque intouchables, immuables, enracinés ; des lieux qui seraient des références, des points de départ, des sources [...]
De tels lieux n'existent pas, et c'est parce qu'ils n'existent pas que l'espace devient question, cesse d'être évidence, cesse d'être incorporé, cesse d'être approprié. L'espace est un doute : il me faut sans cesse le marquer, le désigner [...].
Écrire : essayer méticuleusement de retenir quelque chose : arracher quelques bribes précises au vide qui se creuse, laisser, quelque part, un sillon, une trace, une marque ou quelques signes.'
-----------------
Voir aussi :
La forme d'une ville
Ougarit
Histoires de Barcelone = Historias de Barcelona
Istanbul: souvenirs d'une ville
La Guerre du faux
Atlas des Curiosités
El libro de arena
Kéraban le Têtu
Ulysses
The Simulacra
Flow My Tears, the Policeman Said
The Life and Opinions of Tristram Shandy, Gentleman
La Vie mode d'emploi
Les Choses
L'automne à Pékin
Le Langage moderne de l'architecture: Pour une approche anticlassique
In Praise of Shadows
--------
Accompagnement musical
January 7, 2022
Observations, observations, observations—how thronged with wit and value they are in this work! Perec, the Oulipian genius; Perec, the master of play and fiddling with linguistic and worldly observations and perceptions (Pereceptions?) to a terribly extensive degree until every inch of an observation that slips into his observant mind is observed from a brilliant Perecquian locality and every dart of electric profundity in his profoundant mind is profounded with a great deal of inventiveness. Even in his cleverness and mathematical and listing approach, his adages and outlooks and bearings of philosophy often have the poignancy and emotional engagement that still flourish as in some sort of Perecquian poetry. Loved it so much.
Update: I’ve been thinking about this often since reading. Perhaps one of the most quietly influential works I’ve read in recent times.
Update: I’ve been thinking about this often since reading. Perhaps one of the most quietly influential works I’ve read in recent times.
Read
February 22, 2011If you want a plot, or if you want a cohesive argument, then Perec isn't for you. If you want beautifully rendered belles-lettres about everything and nothing, then he should be right up your alley. In this slender volume of spatial meditations, lists, word games, and other odd ends, Perec as a person shines forth. In his novels, he seemed to exist more as a method, a way of writing. Even in the autobiographical, W or the Memory of Childhood, the childhood reminiscences didn't give us a terribly good idea of Perec-the-adult. But in Espèces d'Espace, it really feels like he's chatting with the reader. OK, not chatting, but smoking a blunt and monologuing about all his clever takes on the world today. Normally, I don't like it when folks do that. But I like it when Georges Perec does.
August 22, 2020
I read a good deal of non-fiction by way of research, thus for leisure purposes, I tend to read fiction. Hence, I've read all of Perec's fiction, much of it more than once, but had only read one of his non-fiction pieces (I've read about Perec, though, in Bellos's comprehensive biography).
As I was reading this charming book, I thought to myself, Ah, I recognise the structure of this book - it's that exaggeration of your address that you sometimes wrote as a child! And sure enough, on page 84, Perec reveals the address he used to write on his diaries:
Georges Perec
18, Rue de l'Assomption
Staircase A
Third Floor
Right-hand door
Paris 16e
Seine
France
Europe
The World
The Universe
And so Perec proceeds, from the blank piece of paper he is writing on while sitting on his bed, to a consideration of apartments, to apartment buildings then streets and so on. And in doing so he indulges a particularly Perecquian concern - how we should be more mindful of and sensitised to our everyday surroundings, to the different spaces we inhabit. It allows the writer to meditate on all manner of things. Here he is on the idiocy of frontiers:
Frontiers are lines. Millions of men are dead because of these lines.
And on crossing frontiers:
It's the same air, the same earth, but the road is no longer quite the same, the writing on the road signs changes, the baker's shops no longer look altogether like the thing we were calling a baker's shop a short while earlier, the loaves are no longer the same shape, there are no longer the same cigarette packets lying around on the ground.
Doesn't that capture beautifully the essence of such transitions?
A fascinating aspect of this work is that the author addresses his works-in-progress. Writing in 1974, we find that the essential conceit behind Life a User's Manual was already in place, some four years before it was published and two years after he'd begun work on it (though long after he'd first started thinking about it). Perec also discusses the influences on this conceit. And he writes about his "time capsule" project, Lieux (Places), describing annually twelve places in Paris across a period of twelve years. This remained unfinished.
Lurking in the background, as so often in Perec, is the space left behind by an absence, that perpetual sense of loss. With characteristic melancholy, Perec returns at the end to his piece of paper:
To write, to try meticulously to retain something, to cause something to survive; to wrest a few precise scraps from the void as it grows, to leave somewhere a furrow, a trace, a mark or a few signs.
The Other Pieces are from a variety of posthumously-published sources. I shall ignore the extracts from Thoughts of Sorts as I intend to write about that separately. Among the highlights for me was Scene of a Flight in which the narrative of a boy running away from home (Perec himself, presumably) is scrambled into the order in which such an escapade might be recalled by the adult mind. The Rue Vilin, surely drawn from the abandoned Lieux/Places project, is a brilliant year-on-year depiction of the gradual dereliction of a Parisian street, which just happens to be the one in which the infant Perec lived and where his mother's hairdresser's shop was located. He talks to a woman in the street. 'She didn't stay very long,' the woman remarks, chillingly. Perec's mother was, of course, murdered by the Nazis. The Winter Journey is a splendid short story in typical Perecquian mode, concerning forgery and art (poetry in this case). Other pieces are clever but less engaging.
I'm giving this collection five stars overall for the title piece and the strongest of the other pieces.
As I was reading this charming book, I thought to myself, Ah, I recognise the structure of this book - it's that exaggeration of your address that you sometimes wrote as a child! And sure enough, on page 84, Perec reveals the address he used to write on his diaries:
Georges Perec
18, Rue de l'Assomption
Staircase A
Third Floor
Right-hand door
Paris 16e
Seine
France
Europe
The World
The Universe
And so Perec proceeds, from the blank piece of paper he is writing on while sitting on his bed, to a consideration of apartments, to apartment buildings then streets and so on. And in doing so he indulges a particularly Perecquian concern - how we should be more mindful of and sensitised to our everyday surroundings, to the different spaces we inhabit. It allows the writer to meditate on all manner of things. Here he is on the idiocy of frontiers:
Frontiers are lines. Millions of men are dead because of these lines.
And on crossing frontiers:
It's the same air, the same earth, but the road is no longer quite the same, the writing on the road signs changes, the baker's shops no longer look altogether like the thing we were calling a baker's shop a short while earlier, the loaves are no longer the same shape, there are no longer the same cigarette packets lying around on the ground.
Doesn't that capture beautifully the essence of such transitions?
A fascinating aspect of this work is that the author addresses his works-in-progress. Writing in 1974, we find that the essential conceit behind Life a User's Manual was already in place, some four years before it was published and two years after he'd begun work on it (though long after he'd first started thinking about it). Perec also discusses the influences on this conceit. And he writes about his "time capsule" project, Lieux (Places), describing annually twelve places in Paris across a period of twelve years. This remained unfinished.
Lurking in the background, as so often in Perec, is the space left behind by an absence, that perpetual sense of loss. With characteristic melancholy, Perec returns at the end to his piece of paper:
To write, to try meticulously to retain something, to cause something to survive; to wrest a few precise scraps from the void as it grows, to leave somewhere a furrow, a trace, a mark or a few signs.
The Other Pieces are from a variety of posthumously-published sources. I shall ignore the extracts from Thoughts of Sorts as I intend to write about that separately. Among the highlights for me was Scene of a Flight in which the narrative of a boy running away from home (Perec himself, presumably) is scrambled into the order in which such an escapade might be recalled by the adult mind. The Rue Vilin, surely drawn from the abandoned Lieux/Places project, is a brilliant year-on-year depiction of the gradual dereliction of a Parisian street, which just happens to be the one in which the infant Perec lived and where his mother's hairdresser's shop was located. He talks to a woman in the street. 'She didn't stay very long,' the woman remarks, chillingly. Perec's mother was, of course, murdered by the Nazis. The Winter Journey is a splendid short story in typical Perecquian mode, concerning forgery and art (poetry in this case). Other pieces are clever but less engaging.
I'm giving this collection five stars overall for the title piece and the strongest of the other pieces.
October 18, 2017
With these, the sense of the world’s concreteness, irreducible, immediate, tangible, of something clear and closer to us: of the world, no longer as a journey having constantly to be remade, not as a race without end, a challenge having constantly to be met, not as the one pretext for a despairing acquisitiveness, nor as the illusion of a conquest, but as the rediscovery of a meaning, the perceiving that the earth is a form of writing, a geography of which we had forgotten that we ourselves are the authors.I have confessed my love for Perec many times in many venues (example: here), but allow me to do so again. I love Perec so freakin’ much. And yet, there are still a handful of his books that I have not read. And I’m not really in any hurry to close that gap, as once I’m done then that’s it, there really isn’t any more. I’ll still re-read him – W, Life, and A Void are all due a re-read soon – but you only get that first read one time, and I’m just going to keep spacing those reads out.
This here collects a lot of Perec’s non-fiction writing. I don’t believe it is meant to be exhaustive; I wasn’t exactly clear from the introduction – thankfully it does include this short essay (Approaches To What), which I highly recommend you just go ahead and pop over and read if you haven’t before, as it is excellent. Outside of his semi-autobiographical fiction, I’ve read very little of Perec’s strictly non-fiction writings. Not surprisingly, Perec is still very much Perec even outside of the confines and restrictions of fiction. The titular piece (Species of Spaces) is a roughly 100 page rumination on the spaces one inhabits, how one can define and capture those spaces, and a general taxonomy of spaces. Which sounds a lot like much of Perec’s fiction – because it is – and in some small way provides a greater level of insight into the way Perec thought and how that thought directly acted on his writing.
What’s fascinating is that the rest of the book – gathered together from various sources and time periods – could be said to explore the same theory of space and its occupation. It’s easy to think of Perec within the restriction and confines of the OuLiPo group, but I think a strong argument could be made that Perec’s mind was already defined by these confines and limitations, and that his structural approach to writing just happened to coincide with the OuLiPo group, as opposed to being influenced by it. Almost everything he writes is with precise mapping and structure in mind.
And yet, even with a view towards that precise mapping and structure – and even considering that Perec did not deviate from his self-imposed structures – there is always an overwhelming sense of Perec’s humanity that is unmistakable in his writing. This is probably why I love Perec to the extent that I do – he presents a precision of structure and execution while still infusing the text with an overall “lightness” (to quote the introduction to this work). And I mean that as both an expression of weight and an expression of luminosity. [I will partially exclude W from this – it is by far his most achingly human work, but I would never describe it as “light”. It is – even over Life – my favorite of Perec’s books]
So, to conclude, you should read this. You should read anything and everything Perec. He is a true joy to read.
At this level, language and signs become decipherable once again. The world is no longer that chaos which words void of meaning despair of describing. It is a living, difficult reality that the power of words gradually overcomes. This is how literature begins, when, in and through language, the transformation begins - which is far from self-evident and far from immediate - that enables an individual to become aware, by expressing the world and by addressing others.
August 12, 2023
'We have difficulty changing, even if it's only the position of our furniture'.
The easiest way of explaining this book is to break the title down by definitions:
Species - a kind or sort.
Space - an area which is free, available, or unoccupied.
Ironically, there's limited space to condense into a review that'll do its quality justice.
Perec's book, first published in 1974, is a unique account of space. Not in the planetary sense - in the explicit everyday spaces that we inhabit.
'We live in space, in these spaces, these towns, this countryside, these corridors, these parks'.
Perec ruminates:
The power of space: How space can evoke vivid memories - a particular room in the house, a building, or town.
The freedom of space: The space of a sheet of paper, its measurements, margins and lines, and the possibilities of a blank or page.
The universality of space: 'Every apartment consists of a variable, but finite, number of rooms, each room has a particular function'.
The effectuality of space: 'A cat owner will rightly tell you that cats inhabit houses much better than people do.
Spaces within space: How we divide our houses or apartments and how this relates to time and routine. No particular space in a house is also any more important than another in a functional sense.
While seemingly trivial, Perec's ideals on space can be applied to the mind. The mind is a space, and how we fill that space is instrumental in the quality of our lives. Particularly as modern living becomes more intense, more externally overwhelming - we can use Perec's writing for meditative purposes, to increase presence and clarity in our lives.
For example, there are various exercises Perec sets for us:
'Observe the street from time to time...Note down the place...note down what you can see. Is there anything that strikes you?'.
Because, as Perec poignantly illustrates:
Our spaces, like our lives, are impermanent:
'My spaces are fragile: time is going to wear them away, to destroy them. Nothing will any longer resemble what was, my memories will betray me, oblivion will infiltrate my memory...'
One of the best books I've read this year. Highly recommend.
The easiest way of explaining this book is to break the title down by definitions:
Species - a kind or sort.
Space - an area which is free, available, or unoccupied.
Ironically, there's limited space to condense into a review that'll do its quality justice.
Perec's book, first published in 1974, is a unique account of space. Not in the planetary sense - in the explicit everyday spaces that we inhabit.
'We live in space, in these spaces, these towns, this countryside, these corridors, these parks'.
Perec ruminates:
The power of space: How space can evoke vivid memories - a particular room in the house, a building, or town.
The freedom of space: The space of a sheet of paper, its measurements, margins and lines, and the possibilities of a blank or page.
The universality of space: 'Every apartment consists of a variable, but finite, number of rooms, each room has a particular function'.
The effectuality of space: 'A cat owner will rightly tell you that cats inhabit houses much better than people do.
Spaces within space: How we divide our houses or apartments and how this relates to time and routine. No particular space in a house is also any more important than another in a functional sense.
While seemingly trivial, Perec's ideals on space can be applied to the mind. The mind is a space, and how we fill that space is instrumental in the quality of our lives. Particularly as modern living becomes more intense, more externally overwhelming - we can use Perec's writing for meditative purposes, to increase presence and clarity in our lives.
For example, there are various exercises Perec sets for us:
'Observe the street from time to time...Note down the place...note down what you can see. Is there anything that strikes you?'.
Because, as Perec poignantly illustrates:
Our spaces, like our lives, are impermanent:
'My spaces are fragile: time is going to wear them away, to destroy them. Nothing will any longer resemble what was, my memories will betray me, oblivion will infiltrate my memory...'
One of the best books I've read this year. Highly recommend.
February 3, 2019
To live is to pass from one space to another, while doing your very best not to bump yourself.
Perec takes space apart item by item, list by list, observation by observation: his bed, his room, his apartment, his building, his neighbourhood, his city, his country, Europe, the World, Space. Then he reassembles it for you on the page. Whilst most authors tend of want to escape the confines of the page, and take the reader into the imagined realms beyond, I had the feeling that Perec was attempting the opposite: to confine space within the page. And he succeeds.
Perec's work feels ordered, mathematical, though clearly creative (he also liked to send word puzzles for his friends), which is unsurprising as he was a member of the Oulipo group that explored constrained writing techniques. And in that sense, Perec's forays into the species of space complement the distinctly lyrical and philosophical forays of Gaston Bachelard in his The Poetics of Space.
Space melts like sand running through one’s fingers. Time bears it away and leaves me only shapeless shreds:
To write: to try meticulously to retain something, to cause something to survive; to wrest a few precise scraps from the void as it grows, to leave somewhere a furrow, a trace, a mark or a few signs.
Perec enhances your perception of details. You might even fancy writing a few of them down.
(Perec's most famous standalone piece, also included in this collection, is The Winter Journey. Its Borgesian quality is appropriately haunting and cooky.)
December 4, 2021
La pagina
" Lo spazio comincia così, solo con delle parole, segni tracciati sulla pagina bianca."
Il letto
" Il letto è dunque lo spazio individuale per eccellenza "
La camera
" Lo spazio risuscitato della camera basta a ravvivare, a far rivivere, a riportare a galla i ricordi più fuggevoli e più insignificanti così come i più essenziali."
E poi appartamento, porte, scale, muri, palazzi, la città, la campagna, il paese etc.
Partendo dalla connotazione di una pagina bianca Perec si interroga e stila un elenco di spazi; l'intento diventa il disquisire sul fatto se abitare uno spazio possa significare viverlo, appropriarsene o capire quando, come e se uno spazio diventa veramente nostro.
" Il nostro sguardo percorre lo spazio e ci dà l'illusione del rilievo e della distanza. È proprio così che costruiamo lo spazio: con un alto e un basso, una sinistra e una destra, un davanti e un dietro, un vicino e un lontano."
Lettura proposta nel Gdl, opera che ho trovato riflessiva e per certi versi didascalica.
Confermo però le perplessità iniziali: non sono riuscita a entrare in feeling con il tema, evidentemente lontano dalle mie preferenze.
" Lo spazio comincia così, solo con delle parole, segni tracciati sulla pagina bianca."
Il letto
" Il letto è dunque lo spazio individuale per eccellenza "
La camera
" Lo spazio risuscitato della camera basta a ravvivare, a far rivivere, a riportare a galla i ricordi più fuggevoli e più insignificanti così come i più essenziali."
E poi appartamento, porte, scale, muri, palazzi, la città, la campagna, il paese etc.
Partendo dalla connotazione di una pagina bianca Perec si interroga e stila un elenco di spazi; l'intento diventa il disquisire sul fatto se abitare uno spazio possa significare viverlo, appropriarsene o capire quando, come e se uno spazio diventa veramente nostro.
" Il nostro sguardo percorre lo spazio e ci dà l'illusione del rilievo e della distanza. È proprio così che costruiamo lo spazio: con un alto e un basso, una sinistra e una destra, un davanti e un dietro, un vicino e un lontano."
Lettura proposta nel Gdl, opera che ho trovato riflessiva e per certi versi didascalica.
Confermo però le perplessità iniziali: non sono riuscita a entrare in feeling con il tema, evidentemente lontano dalle mie preferenze.
April 18, 2020
Me pregunto qué voy a hacer cuando haya leído todo lo que escribió Perec. Releerlo, supongo. Aunque cada vez que llego por primera vez a uno de sus textos, como a este Especies de espacios, no puedo evitar maldecir muy fuerte porque Perec muriera tan pronto y no le diera tiempo a escribir más.
Este libro gustará a quienes ya conocen la obra de Georges Perec y la aprecian, y no les dirá seguramente nada a quienes ya salieron escaldados de algún otro libro suyo, ya que es Perec en estado puro: está su afición a las enumeraciones, su gusto por registrar lo que recuerda o ve como un notario travieso al que le gustan los juegos de palabras (los juegos, en general), o su carácter enigmático incluso cuando habla de sí mismo.
Y quien lea a Perec por primera vez gracias a este libro tendrá la oportunidad de recibir una ración de degustación de este autor. Al fin y al cabo son 146 paginillas (menos, si se salta uno el prólogo de Jesús Camarero, que es lo que yo he hecho), una extensión que no lleva apenas nada de tiempo recorrer.
Este libro gustará a quienes ya conocen la obra de Georges Perec y la aprecian, y no les dirá seguramente nada a quienes ya salieron escaldados de algún otro libro suyo, ya que es Perec en estado puro: está su afición a las enumeraciones, su gusto por registrar lo que recuerda o ve como un notario travieso al que le gustan los juegos de palabras (los juegos, en general), o su carácter enigmático incluso cuando habla de sí mismo.
Y quien lea a Perec por primera vez gracias a este libro tendrá la oportunidad de recibir una ración de degustación de este autor. Al fin y al cabo son 146 paginillas (menos, si se salta uno el prólogo de Jesús Camarero, que es lo que yo he hecho), una extensión que no lleva apenas nada de tiempo recorrer.
January 24, 2021
Νομίζω άργησα να ασχοληθώ στα σοβαρά μαζί του. Οι χορειες είναι ένα από τα καλύτερα βιβλία που διάβασα τον τελευταίο καιρό. Πραγματικά δεν ήθελα να τελειώσει. Κάθε παρατήρηση του κάθε προτροπή σε βάζει σε ένα παιχνίδι με τις ίδιες τις αναμνήσεις σου, ένω σε φτάνει σε σημείο να αναρωτιέται κανείς αν έχει δει, τελικά, αυτό που βλέπει.
5/5 κι αν αυτό είναι το σκορ σε αυτό το βιβλίο, ανυπομονώ να δω τις οδηγίες χρήσεως.
5/5 κι αν αυτό είναι το σκορ σε αυτό το βιβλίο, ανυπομονώ να δω τις οδηγίες χρήσεως.
April 17, 2015
This was my first book by Perec, and even though I was intrigued by some of the reviews, I wasn't expecting to enjoy it as much as I did. I was expecting something difficult to read, but the only part that went over my head were the word games at the end of the book, (kudos to anyone who knew the answers to these) and I still loved reading about them. He was quite the wordsmith.
The short pieces that make up Species of Spaces are eclectic, varying in style. I loved this approach to writing and if you're looking for inspiration, this is an excellent book. I've set myself a challenge to write a review for everything I read, to help me overcome some of the anxiety I feel when I'm trying to put my words onto a page. Thanks to how easily Perec made it seem to spill letters all over the blank space, I am happy to give this book my first review.
With all that style there is plenty of substance. Along with a new perspective on the written word, I am left looking at the space and objects surrounding me a little differently. If only I could thank him with a bottle of rum taken from a shipwreck at the bottom of an ocean.
Some of my favorites: The Page, Some of the Things I Really Must Do Before I Die, Ellis Island: Description of a Project, Brief Notes on the Art and Manner of Arranging One's Books, Think/Classify and Robert Antelme or the Truth of Literature.
The short pieces that make up Species of Spaces are eclectic, varying in style. I loved this approach to writing and if you're looking for inspiration, this is an excellent book. I've set myself a challenge to write a review for everything I read, to help me overcome some of the anxiety I feel when I'm trying to put my words onto a page. Thanks to how easily Perec made it seem to spill letters all over the blank space, I am happy to give this book my first review.
With all that style there is plenty of substance. Along with a new perspective on the written word, I am left looking at the space and objects surrounding me a little differently. If only I could thank him with a bottle of rum taken from a shipwreck at the bottom of an ocean.
Some of my favorites: The Page, Some of the Things I Really Must Do Before I Die, Ellis Island: Description of a Project, Brief Notes on the Art and Manner of Arranging One's Books, Think/Classify and Robert Antelme or the Truth of Literature.
January 17, 2023
L'espace semble être, ou plus apprivoisé, ou plus inoffensif, que le temps : on rencontre partout des gens qui ont des montres, et très rarement des gens qui ont des boussoles. On a toujours besoin de savoir l'heure (et qui sait encore la déduire de la position du soleil?) mais on ne se demande jamais où l'on est. On croit le savoir : on est chez soi, on est à son bureau, on est dans le métro, on est dans la rue.
Dit is Perec op zijn best. In Espèces d’espaces neemt hij je mee door verschillende ruimtes uit ieders leven - je bed, de straat, de stad... - en doet je op zijn immer vrolijke en fantasierijke manier stilstaan bij details waar je nog nooit over hebt nagedacht.
Na elk boek van Perec ben ik ervan overtuigd dat ik niet nóg verliefder kan worden op zijn werk, maar hij bewijst me keer op keer het tegendeel.
Dit is Perec op zijn best. In Espèces d’espaces neemt hij je mee door verschillende ruimtes uit ieders leven - je bed, de straat, de stad... - en doet je op zijn immer vrolijke en fantasierijke manier stilstaan bij details waar je nog nooit over hebt nagedacht.
Na elk boek van Perec ben ik ervan overtuigd dat ik niet nóg verliefder kan worden op zijn werk, maar hij bewijst me keer op keer het tegendeel.
December 27, 2021
Vorrei che esistessero luoghi stabili, immobili, intangibili, mai toccati e quasi intoccabili, immutabili, radicati: luoghi che sarebbero punti di riferimento e di partenza, delle fonti: il mio paese natale, la culla della mia famiglia, la casa dove sarei nato, l'albero che avrei visto crescere (che mio padre avrebbe piantato il giorno della mia nascita), la soffitta della mia infanzia gremita di ricordi intatti...Tali luoghi non esistono, ed è perchè non esistono che lo spazio diventa problematico, cessa di essere evidenza, cessa di essere incorporato, cessa di essere appropriato. Lo spazio è un dubbio: devo continuamente individuarlo, designarlo. Non è mai mio, mai mi viene dato, devo conquistarlo. I miei spazi sono fragili: il tempo li consumerà, li distruggerà: niente somiglierà più a quel che era, miei ricordi mi tradiranno, I'oblio s'infiltrerà nella mia memoria, guarderò senza riconoscerle alcune foto ingiallite dal bordo tutto strappato.
#quote
#quote
February 23, 2019
"Der Raum ist ein Zweifel: ich muss ihn unaufhörlich abstecken, ihn bezeichnen; er gehört niemals mir, er wird mir nie gegeben, ich muss ihn erobern"
"Meine Räume sind vergänglich: die Zeit wird sie abnutzen, wird sie zerstören: nichts wird mehr dem gleichen, was einmal war...ich werde einige vergilbte Fotos mit geknickten Rändern betrachten, ohne sie wiederzuerkennen. "
Wieder ein Meisterwerk von George Perec. 5 stars. Chapeau.
"Meine Räume sind vergänglich: die Zeit wird sie abnutzen, wird sie zerstören: nichts wird mehr dem gleichen, was einmal war...ich werde einige vergilbte Fotos mit geknickten Rändern betrachten, ohne sie wiederzuerkennen. "
Wieder ein Meisterwerk von George Perec. 5 stars. Chapeau.
July 22, 2015
Riflessioni sullo spazio dal piccolo al grande, dal nostro letto all’universo infinito. Perec le focalizza su casa, condominio e città. Alcuni spunti sono interessanti, con una buon indice di apertura mentale. Complessivamente un po’ ozioso, ugualmente leggibile perché formato da capitoli brevissimi. Facile da interrompere, digeribile, si può leggere in autobus, al parco, in fila alle poste.
July 1, 2022
این کتاب ترجمه شده توسط آقای پیمان عشقی هست، و مانند رمان چیزها یک اثر کاملا جدید و نو هست که شبیه هیچ کتابی که تا به حال خواندید نیست ،البته شاید معماران و مهندسین جذبش نشن.
February 15, 2025
Georges Perec (1936-1982) is vooral bekend vanwege zijn ongelofelijk inventieve meesterwerken "W of de jeugdherinnering" en "Het leven een gebruiksaanwijzing". Maar naast deze (en andere) prachtromans schreef hij ook "Ruimten rondom". Een beschouwing over bebouwde ruimtes en abstracte ruimte. Na Perecs dood kreeg dit “dagboek van een ruimtegebruiker” – deze unieke, grootse en lyrische sociologie van het minuscule en onopgemerkte- dan ook een mythische status. En daaraan wordt mooi recht gedaan in deze herziene heruitgave van de uitstekende vertaling van Rokus Hofstede, uit 1998, waaraan nu facsimile’s en vertalingen van niet eerder gepubliceerde fragmenten zijn toegevoegd. Plus een nieuw verhelderend nawoord van Perec- kenner Manet van Montfrans.
Eén van de belangrijkste drijfveren voor dit boek lijkt mij Perecs existentiële ontworteldheid. Dat verwoordt hij prachtig: “Ik zou willen dat er plekken bestonden die blijvend waren, onbeweeglijk, onaantastbaar, onaangeraakt en geworteld; plekken die konden dienen als referentie, als vertrekpunt, als bron. Mijn geboorteland, mijn bakermat, het huis waar ik geboren was, de boom die ik had zien groeien (die door mijn vader op de dag van mijn geboorte was geplant), de zolder van mijn kinderjaren vol ongeschonden souvenirs… Zulke plekken bestaan niet en omdat ze niet bestaan, wordt de ruimte een vraag, is de ruimte niet langer vanzelfsprekend, niet langer eigen. De ruimte is een twijfel: iets wat ik aan één stuk door moet afbakenen en aanwijzen; iets wat nooit van mij is, wat voor mij nooit een gegevenheid is, wat ik moet veroveren. Mijn ruimten zijn fragiel: de tijd zal ze afkalven, zal ze vernietigen: niets zal meer lijken op wat het was, mijn herinneringen zullen me in de steek laten, vergetelheid zal mijn geheugen binnensijpelen, zonder ze te herkennen zal ik kijken naar een paar vergeelde foto’s met verkreukelde randen”.
Vooral de tweede geciteerde zin is schrijnend: daarin somt Perec kenmerken op van een kindertijd die hij nooit gehad heeft. Want zijn beide ouders zijn door WO II en de holocaust omgebracht. En al zijn jeugdherinneringen sloegen om in verdrongen jeugdtrauma’s. Nooit was hij in enige ruimte echt thuis, en nooit was een ruimte voor hem een onaantastbare plek. En dat is de ruimte ook niet voor ons, al hebben de meesten van ons een zonniger jeugd gehad. Want ook wij zijn niet pijnvrij, en ook onze leventjes zijn eindig. Dus onze leefruimtes zijn eveneens fragiel, en niet zo vanzelfsprekend als ze lijken. Dat doorvoelen we als we iets van Perecs ontworteldheid tot ons door laten dringen, en het vanzelfsprekende niet meer als vanzelfsprekend ervaren.
Bovendien riep Perec ons op om veel meer aandacht te hebben voor het ‘ondergewone’: voor alle fenomenen die zo vertrouwd of zelfs banaal lijken dat we niet eens meer opmerken. “Want wat wij alledaagsheid noemen is niet vanzelfsprekend, maar ondoorzichtig: een vorm van blindheid, een soort verdoving”, zegt Perec. Alle ruimtes die we bewonen of doorlopen zijn oneindig rijk aan kleurrijke en verrassende details, die ons zeer zouden verrijken als we ze zouden opmerken, maar door onze al te routineuze blik op de wereld zijn we daar blind voor.
Dus roept Perec op om alles wat we achteloos bekijken vanaf nu veel geconcentreerder en aandachtiger te gaan bekijken. En om onze routines radicaal te doorbreken. Dat leidt onder meer tot “praktische oefeningen” als: “Noteren wat je ziet. Opmerken wat opmerkelijk is. Zijn we in staat te zien wat opmerkelijk is? Is er iets wat ons opvalt? Niets valt ons op. We zijn niet in staat om te zien. We moeten het anders aanpakken, behoedzamer, dommer haast. Onszelf dwingen op te schrijven wat oninteressant is, het allervanzelfsprekendste, het allergewoonste, het alleronbenulligste.” Exact dat is wat Perec doet op vele bladzijden van" Ruimten rondom". Zich overgevend aan een stroom van ogenschijnlijk volkomen betekenisloze flarden en details, die allemaal worden opgesomd en gerubriceerd. Terwijl er tegelijk binnen en buiten hem helemaal niets gebeurt. En ik kreeg bijna de neiging om dit na te doen. Net zo lang tot ook mijn eigen leefruimten mij geheel vreemd zouden worden, zodat ik alle ondergewone aspecten daarvan veel beter zou zien.
Soms werkt Perec ook met lange opsommingen, vol met nauwelijks samenhangende details die wij doorgaans niet opmerken. Bijvoorbeeld opsommingen van herinneringsflarden die bij hem naar boven komen als hij in bed ligt. Of opsommingen van de vele verschillende meubels en prullaria die je in een appartementengebouw zou kunnen aantreffen. Of van alle onbewuste handelingen bij het parkeren van een auto. Ook is er een hilarische, drie bladzijden lange opsomming van diverse werkwoorden en uitdrukkingen die je kunt associëren met ‘verhuizen’. In al deze opsommingen heerst het ondergewone. Elke opsomming is een raadselachtig prozagedicht, een poëtische lofzang op de onsamenhangende veelvoudigheid die onze ruimten kenmerkt. En op hun zo rijk vertakte ondergewoonheid, die door die opsommingen pas goed tot ons doordringt.
Intrigerend zijn bovendien de nieuwe gewoonten die Perec poogt te ontwikkelen. Bijvoorbeeld door te wandelen in Parijs, zonder doel, “maar in een poging om me te laten meevoeren”. Of juist door “bijvoorbeeld een traject [te] vinden dat heel Parijs doorkruist en alleen straten zou volgen die beginnen met de letter c”. Een volkomen ongewoon traject dus, dat het ‘ondergewone’ in het al te vertrouwde Parijs beter zichtbaar zou maken. Ook noemt hij een buitenissig project, waarin hij elke maand één van de twaalf voor hem meest speciale plaatsen in Parijs zo neutraal mogelijk zou beschrijven, door alle details die hem opvielen direct en ter plekke op te tekenen. Herinneringen aan diezelfde plaatsen zou hij apart uitwerken, met dezelfde frequentie. En daar wilde hij twaalf jaar over doen, zodat elke plaats twee keer twaalf maal zou worden beschreven. Als resultaat verwachtte hij “niets anders dan het spoor van een drievoudige veroudering: die van de plaatsen zelf, die van mijn herinneringen en die van mijn schrijven”. En dat vind ik een mooi voorbeeld van het onopgemerkte en ondergewone. Hoe merkwaardig het project ook is. En hoe onuitgevoerd het ook bleef. Tegelijk is het ook een mooie "ars memoriae": het bewaren van die voor hem speciale, hoewel ondergewone plaatsen, is ook het bewaren van voor hem speciale gebeurtenissen. Al wordt vooral het spoor van de drievoudige veroudering bewaard, en niet de levende herinnering.
Daarnaast stelt Perec vaak simpele, verwonderde vragen, die als eye opener werken. “Een kamer bewonen, wat houdt dat in? Een plek bewonen, is dat het je toe- eigenen van die plek? Wat houdt het je toe- eigenen van een plek in? Vanaf welk moment is een plek echt van jou?” Hoe merkwaardig: ik leef al jaren in dezelfde woonkamer, ik werk al jaren aan hetzelfde bureau, en toch had ik nog nooit nagedacht over wat dat nou inhoudt, ‘mijn’ woonkamer en ‘mijn’ bureau. Bovendien zijn Perecs beschrijvingen vaak verwonderlijk. Bijvoorbeeld: “Je beschermt je, je verschanst je. Deuren stuiten en scheiden. De deur breekt de ruimte, snijdt die in tweeën, blokkeert osmose, dwingt beslotenheid af. Aan de ene kant: ik en de plek waar ik thuis ben, het huiselijke, het private (de ruimte die is volgeladen met mijn eigendommen: mijn bed, mijn vloerbedekking, mijn tafel, mijn schrijfmachine, mijn boeken, mijn losse nummers van La Nouvelle Revue Française…); aan de andere kant: de anderen, de wereld, het openbare, het politieke”.
Ik zou nooit hebben bedacht dat een deur de osmose tussen mijn thuis-wereld en de buitenwereld blokkeert. Mijn verwondering daarover wordt nog verder gevoed door Perecs latere, betoverend ongrijpbare beschrijvingen van een huis zonder deuren, ontworpen door Frank Lloyd Wright. Daarin is onder meer “een helling die heel vaag op een muurtje begon te lijken”, en “iets wat leek op een open dak, nauwelijks te onderscheiden van de eromheen welig tierende vegetatie. Maar feitelijk was het al te laat om te weten of je buiten of binnen was”. Zo maakt Perec voelbaar dat je zou kunnen wonen in huizen zonder deuren, die de osmose tussen thuis- wereld en buitenwereld niet blokkeren. In onze verbeelding is dat althans mogelijk, volgens Perec. Als we onze verbeelding tenminste oprekken.
Nog merkwaardiger zijn Perecs denkexperimenten over ruimten die aan onze denkpatronen ontsnappen. Zo stelt hij zich een gigantisch huis voor, waarin alle onvoorstelbaar vele kamers ergens toe dienen, behalve één. En die ene kamer zou worden gebruikt voor het beluisteren van een symfonie, of het aflezen van de barometer, of het reinigen van de grote teen van de rechtervoet, of voor helemaal niets….. Daarnaast droomt hij over de onmogelijke bouwwerken van Escher en Magritte, en een gigantische Skinner- Box met een volkomen zwart interieur. Ook mijmert hij over een novelle van Borges, “waarin mensen die zijn verlost van de noodzaak om te leven of te sterven eigenhandig vervallen paleizen en onbruikbare trappenhuizen hebben gebouwd”. Dit lijken gekke gedachtekronkels, maar voor Perec is de ruimte altijd een vraag, een twijfel, een niet- vanzelfsprekendheid. En die niet- vanzelfsprekendheid wordt in deze denkexercities op fraaie wijze ontplooid.
In "Ruimten rondom" evoceert Perec kortom de onvermoede vreemdheid van de vele verschillende ruimten waarin we leven. Soms door extra scherp in te zoomen op het ondergewone. Soms door onze fantasie en verbeeldingskracht op te rekken, of door vragen te stellen over aspecten van de ruimten waarover we nog nooit hadden nagedacht. Daarbij gebruikt hij vele stijlmiddelen: citaten, neutrale plaatsbeschrijvingen, uitgebreide opsommingen of inventarislijsten, vragen, herinneringen, praktische oefeningen, fantasievolle mijmeringen, prozagedichten, typografische spelletjes, en meer. En in al die stijlmiddelen is hij grandioos.
Eén van de belangrijkste drijfveren voor dit boek lijkt mij Perecs existentiële ontworteldheid. Dat verwoordt hij prachtig: “Ik zou willen dat er plekken bestonden die blijvend waren, onbeweeglijk, onaantastbaar, onaangeraakt en geworteld; plekken die konden dienen als referentie, als vertrekpunt, als bron. Mijn geboorteland, mijn bakermat, het huis waar ik geboren was, de boom die ik had zien groeien (die door mijn vader op de dag van mijn geboorte was geplant), de zolder van mijn kinderjaren vol ongeschonden souvenirs… Zulke plekken bestaan niet en omdat ze niet bestaan, wordt de ruimte een vraag, is de ruimte niet langer vanzelfsprekend, niet langer eigen. De ruimte is een twijfel: iets wat ik aan één stuk door moet afbakenen en aanwijzen; iets wat nooit van mij is, wat voor mij nooit een gegevenheid is, wat ik moet veroveren. Mijn ruimten zijn fragiel: de tijd zal ze afkalven, zal ze vernietigen: niets zal meer lijken op wat het was, mijn herinneringen zullen me in de steek laten, vergetelheid zal mijn geheugen binnensijpelen, zonder ze te herkennen zal ik kijken naar een paar vergeelde foto’s met verkreukelde randen”.
Vooral de tweede geciteerde zin is schrijnend: daarin somt Perec kenmerken op van een kindertijd die hij nooit gehad heeft. Want zijn beide ouders zijn door WO II en de holocaust omgebracht. En al zijn jeugdherinneringen sloegen om in verdrongen jeugdtrauma’s. Nooit was hij in enige ruimte echt thuis, en nooit was een ruimte voor hem een onaantastbare plek. En dat is de ruimte ook niet voor ons, al hebben de meesten van ons een zonniger jeugd gehad. Want ook wij zijn niet pijnvrij, en ook onze leventjes zijn eindig. Dus onze leefruimtes zijn eveneens fragiel, en niet zo vanzelfsprekend als ze lijken. Dat doorvoelen we als we iets van Perecs ontworteldheid tot ons door laten dringen, en het vanzelfsprekende niet meer als vanzelfsprekend ervaren.
Bovendien riep Perec ons op om veel meer aandacht te hebben voor het ‘ondergewone’: voor alle fenomenen die zo vertrouwd of zelfs banaal lijken dat we niet eens meer opmerken. “Want wat wij alledaagsheid noemen is niet vanzelfsprekend, maar ondoorzichtig: een vorm van blindheid, een soort verdoving”, zegt Perec. Alle ruimtes die we bewonen of doorlopen zijn oneindig rijk aan kleurrijke en verrassende details, die ons zeer zouden verrijken als we ze zouden opmerken, maar door onze al te routineuze blik op de wereld zijn we daar blind voor.
Dus roept Perec op om alles wat we achteloos bekijken vanaf nu veel geconcentreerder en aandachtiger te gaan bekijken. En om onze routines radicaal te doorbreken. Dat leidt onder meer tot “praktische oefeningen” als: “Noteren wat je ziet. Opmerken wat opmerkelijk is. Zijn we in staat te zien wat opmerkelijk is? Is er iets wat ons opvalt? Niets valt ons op. We zijn niet in staat om te zien. We moeten het anders aanpakken, behoedzamer, dommer haast. Onszelf dwingen op te schrijven wat oninteressant is, het allervanzelfsprekendste, het allergewoonste, het alleronbenulligste.” Exact dat is wat Perec doet op vele bladzijden van" Ruimten rondom". Zich overgevend aan een stroom van ogenschijnlijk volkomen betekenisloze flarden en details, die allemaal worden opgesomd en gerubriceerd. Terwijl er tegelijk binnen en buiten hem helemaal niets gebeurt. En ik kreeg bijna de neiging om dit na te doen. Net zo lang tot ook mijn eigen leefruimten mij geheel vreemd zouden worden, zodat ik alle ondergewone aspecten daarvan veel beter zou zien.
Soms werkt Perec ook met lange opsommingen, vol met nauwelijks samenhangende details die wij doorgaans niet opmerken. Bijvoorbeeld opsommingen van herinneringsflarden die bij hem naar boven komen als hij in bed ligt. Of opsommingen van de vele verschillende meubels en prullaria die je in een appartementengebouw zou kunnen aantreffen. Of van alle onbewuste handelingen bij het parkeren van een auto. Ook is er een hilarische, drie bladzijden lange opsomming van diverse werkwoorden en uitdrukkingen die je kunt associëren met ‘verhuizen’. In al deze opsommingen heerst het ondergewone. Elke opsomming is een raadselachtig prozagedicht, een poëtische lofzang op de onsamenhangende veelvoudigheid die onze ruimten kenmerkt. En op hun zo rijk vertakte ondergewoonheid, die door die opsommingen pas goed tot ons doordringt.
Intrigerend zijn bovendien de nieuwe gewoonten die Perec poogt te ontwikkelen. Bijvoorbeeld door te wandelen in Parijs, zonder doel, “maar in een poging om me te laten meevoeren”. Of juist door “bijvoorbeeld een traject [te] vinden dat heel Parijs doorkruist en alleen straten zou volgen die beginnen met de letter c”. Een volkomen ongewoon traject dus, dat het ‘ondergewone’ in het al te vertrouwde Parijs beter zichtbaar zou maken. Ook noemt hij een buitenissig project, waarin hij elke maand één van de twaalf voor hem meest speciale plaatsen in Parijs zo neutraal mogelijk zou beschrijven, door alle details die hem opvielen direct en ter plekke op te tekenen. Herinneringen aan diezelfde plaatsen zou hij apart uitwerken, met dezelfde frequentie. En daar wilde hij twaalf jaar over doen, zodat elke plaats twee keer twaalf maal zou worden beschreven. Als resultaat verwachtte hij “niets anders dan het spoor van een drievoudige veroudering: die van de plaatsen zelf, die van mijn herinneringen en die van mijn schrijven”. En dat vind ik een mooi voorbeeld van het onopgemerkte en ondergewone. Hoe merkwaardig het project ook is. En hoe onuitgevoerd het ook bleef. Tegelijk is het ook een mooie "ars memoriae": het bewaren van die voor hem speciale, hoewel ondergewone plaatsen, is ook het bewaren van voor hem speciale gebeurtenissen. Al wordt vooral het spoor van de drievoudige veroudering bewaard, en niet de levende herinnering.
Daarnaast stelt Perec vaak simpele, verwonderde vragen, die als eye opener werken. “Een kamer bewonen, wat houdt dat in? Een plek bewonen, is dat het je toe- eigenen van die plek? Wat houdt het je toe- eigenen van een plek in? Vanaf welk moment is een plek echt van jou?” Hoe merkwaardig: ik leef al jaren in dezelfde woonkamer, ik werk al jaren aan hetzelfde bureau, en toch had ik nog nooit nagedacht over wat dat nou inhoudt, ‘mijn’ woonkamer en ‘mijn’ bureau. Bovendien zijn Perecs beschrijvingen vaak verwonderlijk. Bijvoorbeeld: “Je beschermt je, je verschanst je. Deuren stuiten en scheiden. De deur breekt de ruimte, snijdt die in tweeën, blokkeert osmose, dwingt beslotenheid af. Aan de ene kant: ik en de plek waar ik thuis ben, het huiselijke, het private (de ruimte die is volgeladen met mijn eigendommen: mijn bed, mijn vloerbedekking, mijn tafel, mijn schrijfmachine, mijn boeken, mijn losse nummers van La Nouvelle Revue Française…); aan de andere kant: de anderen, de wereld, het openbare, het politieke”.
Ik zou nooit hebben bedacht dat een deur de osmose tussen mijn thuis-wereld en de buitenwereld blokkeert. Mijn verwondering daarover wordt nog verder gevoed door Perecs latere, betoverend ongrijpbare beschrijvingen van een huis zonder deuren, ontworpen door Frank Lloyd Wright. Daarin is onder meer “een helling die heel vaag op een muurtje begon te lijken”, en “iets wat leek op een open dak, nauwelijks te onderscheiden van de eromheen welig tierende vegetatie. Maar feitelijk was het al te laat om te weten of je buiten of binnen was”. Zo maakt Perec voelbaar dat je zou kunnen wonen in huizen zonder deuren, die de osmose tussen thuis- wereld en buitenwereld niet blokkeren. In onze verbeelding is dat althans mogelijk, volgens Perec. Als we onze verbeelding tenminste oprekken.
Nog merkwaardiger zijn Perecs denkexperimenten over ruimten die aan onze denkpatronen ontsnappen. Zo stelt hij zich een gigantisch huis voor, waarin alle onvoorstelbaar vele kamers ergens toe dienen, behalve één. En die ene kamer zou worden gebruikt voor het beluisteren van een symfonie, of het aflezen van de barometer, of het reinigen van de grote teen van de rechtervoet, of voor helemaal niets….. Daarnaast droomt hij over de onmogelijke bouwwerken van Escher en Magritte, en een gigantische Skinner- Box met een volkomen zwart interieur. Ook mijmert hij over een novelle van Borges, “waarin mensen die zijn verlost van de noodzaak om te leven of te sterven eigenhandig vervallen paleizen en onbruikbare trappenhuizen hebben gebouwd”. Dit lijken gekke gedachtekronkels, maar voor Perec is de ruimte altijd een vraag, een twijfel, een niet- vanzelfsprekendheid. En die niet- vanzelfsprekendheid wordt in deze denkexercities op fraaie wijze ontplooid.
In "Ruimten rondom" evoceert Perec kortom de onvermoede vreemdheid van de vele verschillende ruimten waarin we leven. Soms door extra scherp in te zoomen op het ondergewone. Soms door onze fantasie en verbeeldingskracht op te rekken, of door vragen te stellen over aspecten van de ruimten waarover we nog nooit hadden nagedacht. Daarbij gebruikt hij vele stijlmiddelen: citaten, neutrale plaatsbeschrijvingen, uitgebreide opsommingen of inventarislijsten, vragen, herinneringen, praktische oefeningen, fantasievolle mijmeringen, prozagedichten, typografische spelletjes, en meer. En in al die stijlmiddelen is hij grandioos.
May 29, 2022
The master of the mundane, the infraordinary, la quotidienne. Before Seinfeld's show about nothing, there was Perec's work about nothing, the common things we pass by everyday and don't pay attention to, the spaces and "species" we're surrounded by and don't think about. It's a joyous journey to read Perec precisely because he opens your eyes to the trees you pass and treat as being only a forest.
March 3, 2022
الكتاب الذي طار إليّ من الرباط رأسًا، وصلني بعدما يئست تمامًا من إيجاده ورقيًا أو ألكترونيًا! نعم هو يستحق كل ذلك وأكثر، هذه الكتابه السحرية النثرية عن الفضاءات المحيطة بنا تجعلنا نتوقف برهة يسيرة لنتأمل الزمان والمكان، بل وذواتنا أيضًا.
Displaying 1 - 30 of 362 reviews