"The crowd is his element, as the air is that of
birds and water of fishes. His passion and his profession are to become one
flesh with the crowd. For the perfect flâneur, for the passionate
spectator, it is an immense joy to set up house in the heart of the multitude,
amid the ebb and flow of movement, in the midst of the fugitive and the
infinite. To be away from home and yet to feel oneself everywhere at
home."
Charles Baudelaire
Charles Baudelaire
“Man
as civilized being, as intellectual nomad, is again wholly microcosmic, wholly
homeless, as free intellectually as hunter and herdsman were free sensually.”
Oswald Spengler
Flâneur. Derived from the French verb flâner, meaning “to saunter or lounge”,
flâneur is a term traditionally understood to mean "stroller,
idler, walker". As described on The
Arcades Project website, he is typically an educated man and wealthy enough
to spend his days strolling idly through the streets of Paris (or some other such
city), probing his surroundings and making observations about people and places
that might otherwise go unnoticed. He is “a narrator who is fluent in the
hieroglyphic vocabulary of visual culture,” a voyeur with a “cool but curious
eye”. Rootless, anonymous, an inveterate outsider, he is a man who, for all his
refinement, for all his vanity, is wildly protean in nature, sometimes invisible,
often solipsistic, degenerate, effete. He is a parasite, “dragging the crowd
for intellectual food.” And how we envy him this, this indulgence of eye and heart
and mind. From Charles Baudelaire, Georg Simmel, Marcel Proust, and James Joyce
to Franz Hessel, Walter Benjamin, Juan Goytisolo, and Edmund White, intellectuals and
writers alike have found themselves transfixed by the enigma of this distinctly
modern, distinctly urban prowler.
The nameless
46 year-old narrator of Genazino’s short novel The Shoe Tester of Frankfurt is just such a man. While not wealthy enough to support his
penchant for wandering the streets of Frankfurt, he is lucky enough to be
employed by the small but rapidly expanding Weisshuhn Shoe Factory as a tester of
shoes! And so begins the irony, the humor, of this lightly, delightfully philosophical
tale. “All you have to do is spend the whole day walking around in brand new
shoes,” explains the narrator, “and then write as detailed a report as possible
about your sensations while walking.” Troubled by his past, by failed
relationships, by love, he lives his days in silent rebellion against what he
calls his “unauthorized life”--the fact that he was born into the world without
his consent. Yet he is no misanthrope--no Timon of Athens, no Schopenhauer. As with all flâneurs he finds the
city irresistible, drawn out of his apartment each day to wander its crowded
streets, to examine its shops and restaurants, marveling like a child at the
sights and sounds, and piecing them together as clues. For the details of urban
life, he has a promiscuous eye (and nose), noting with interest, with pleasure,
a woman in a wheelchair, a Mickey Mouse tie, the stench of “hairspray,
gasoline, bratwurst, smoke and chicken excrement.” He marvels at a cockeyed
dog. In his ramblings through the
city he notices a Japanese woman eating a peach, admires “an old cardboard
trunk with a tin-plated handle”, observes an elderly gentleman in a restaurant who
has dropped a potato on the floor. The “unlooked-at-people” hold a particular
fascination for this man without qualities in his restless struggle to make sense
of the city in which he swims, to discover the meaning of his aimless, lonely, fish-like
life.
Wilhelm Genazino
was born in Mannheim, Germany in 1943, has published numerous books, including
eight novels, a trilogy, and two collections of essays. His many literary honors include the
Bremer Literaturpreis (1989), the Hans-Fallada-Preis (2003), and the
Georg-Büchner-Preis (2004). He
lives in Frankfurt. The Shoe Tester of Frankfurt was
translated from the German by Philip Boehm and published in 2006 by New
Directions Books, New York.
Peter Adam
Nash
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