Spring in Paris & John Dos Passos

In the chapter that was assigned and the reading that was provided I learned that both writers are actually quite similar. Their technique and goal seem to be quite comparable, from my point of view. The one thing that might separate or distinguish them is what they tend to include or incorporate into there storytelling. 

Hemingway has a more personal point of view in his writing, almost as if it’s conversational. He incorporates his daily life, activities, ideas, feelings, and thoughts in his chapters.

In “A Moveable Feast” it basically depicts his time and encounters in Paris, while Passos provides a more distinct interpretation of his current environment. His concerns lie more on an overall bases of his surroundings.

In Hemingway’s “People of the Seine” chapter he begins with a discussion regarding locations and addresses in Paris. He mentions rue Cardinal Lemoine and then goes on to Boulevard Saint-Germaine.

He remarks, “this was not like any other Paris market but was a sort of bonded warehouse where wine was stored against the payment of taxes and was as cheerless from the outside as a military depot or a prison.” The whole start of the chapter almost reminds me of a simple conversation regarding location. This is why, personally, I find his reading to be easier.

From then on he lets his mind lead him and transition from a discussion regarding fishing and his fascination and reasons on why he does not participate but still follows it to the sad beginning and end of seasons in Paris.

“This was the only truly sad time in Paris because it was unnatural. You expected to be sad in the fall. Part of you died each year when the leaves fell from the trees and their branches were bare against the wind and the cold, wintry light.

But you knew there was always spring, as you knew the river would flow again after it was frozen. When the cold rains kept on and killed the spring, it was as though a young person had died for no reason. “

This passage in the chapter shows his dedication and love for Paris. He speaks about how although one chapter of Paris may be closing and he is about to endure a part he may not be so fond of, he is still going to remain and look forward to when “his” Paris will resume and return. Because Hemingway does seem to speak with his mind, his ideals will often be projected.

So Paris is often romanticized, even if moments seem to be criticized he seems to find a way return the short moment of truth into just a beautiful reality.

When Passos begins his writing, he includes all details regarding his current writing subject. Although, it is quite close to Hemingway’s style, it is not as romanticized it seems to find itself to be more informative. 

For example, in segments in his writing he decides to not only include descriptions but their history.

Passos biased view is more palpable, he sticks to very dark or cynical terms. I recall he uses the term “gloomy” and “grey.” He doesn’t idealize or even idolize Paris as much as his former colleague did. He even states, “think of them guys in Paris, havin’ a hell of a time with wine an’ women, an’ we stay out her an’ clean our guns an’ drill.”

Although, both seem to follow a parallel documentation about their travels or time in Paris. Passos and Hemingway do have tiny features that distinct and separate them from each other. Hemingway is more loving and thought incorporated with his writing. He lets his mind take charge, while Passos has a more informative and cynical point of view with his writing.

Other Female Figures in Feast

From what I’ve read so far the other figures presented in Feast, are usually depicted or shown in a good light.  In the book, Hemingway speaks of Stein, his wife, and most recently Sylvia Beach. He speaks of his of encounter with her, saying how she was generous and trusting although she had no reason to be.

Sylvia is the owner of the famed library and bookstore, Shakespeare and Company.

Hemingway met this sweet woman when he was in search of some books to read and when he had no way to compensate or trade for the books, she simply told him not rush. Instead she encouraged him to enjoy stating not to read too fast. He mentions in the book, “no one that I ever knew was nicer to me.”

Her kindness is further shown when she learns of Hemingway’s financial state. Hemingway wrote in the book his address, and apparently the area he lives in is known for its class and state, which is poor.

This did not bother Sylvia and nor did it halt her from letting Hemingway borrow the books. She even went as far as inviting the Hemingway and his wife over for dinner at her place.

In Sylvia Beach’s memoir titled, Shakespeare and Company, we learn of her encounter with Hemingway through her opinion and also through her memoir we learn about her dealings with other now famed writers and her time during the war.

Beach’s kindness and well-hearted image is not shed, but instead further brightened.

Beach was told to be exploited by Joyce, a writer whose proposed book she supported. Beach was “pressed into service to run his endless errands, to lend him pocket money, to give him a sympathetic ear.” Eventually she is betrayed and Joyce brings his work elsewhere. 

These courses of actions are learned and told by letters, in which we later learn of Beach’s true nature. That, although, she may have been shown as sweet and generous, initially, by the help of Hemingway’s descriptions, she is actually a strong woman as well.

Through the letters, we learn behind the reasons of why she was so kind to Hemingway. During her time abroad, the Nazi’s were beginning to occupy Paris, United States were recommending all Americans to leave Paris and to return to their former home. She opposes the idea, and instead remains in France.

She even goes as far as refraining a highly ranked Nazi officer from taking a book, for which she saved for herself.

The comparison of the two readings helps demonstrate or display Sylvia as not only a kind woman who might’ve seen the good in a man who simply could have wanted a book that day, but it helped show the reasons behind her actions and it showed behind the curtains of a strong willed woman who believed in her interests and her new home.

Urban Pyschogeography

I have actually and unknowingly walked through the assigned area multiple times. I have noticed that everything is actually pretty close to each other and the rue’s are getting easier to distinct and know.

This assignment, regarding the graffiti is actually something I have had a large question or just even thoughts about.

I recall in my freshman year at New School. I was taking Screen Studies and I had to watch “Exit through the Gift Shop.” It’s a documentary type film; it follows a couple of known and upcoming graffiti artists and the widely known and popular Banksy. 

However, Banksy is not what made me recall that film, it is actually a graffiti artist named Invader, who I’ve noticed has left his signature 1970’s-1980’s styled video game graffiti art all around Paris. His work is entirely recognizable, because of the 8 bit video game characters he puts up repeatedly, which he mostly accomplishes by using mosaic tiles, thereby re-creating that pixelated imaging of those beloved characters.

I spotted his work on one of the assigned streets, Rue Vielle du Temple. One of the “invaders” from the game Space Invaders was on the wall. 

Until this assignment I entirely disregarded or even overlooked his work. I thought he was another American graffiti artist, however, this assignment guided me to research him and his work more. This led me to learn that he is actually indeed a native French urban artist.

Seeing his work all over Paris does seem to contrast with the antique and historic Paris, at first.

Personally when I see Paris I see a lot of grey tones. Yes, I came during a winter time, but I have been here in summer and I have always had this opinion. However, something I’ve noticed about most of the people here and there attire and style is that they are either in all black or all in retro-ish or colored attire.

This assignment also just came at a perfect time for me, because I have recently just returned from Milan, and if anyone has ever had the chance to visit Milan they will notice that it is a city a tad similar to Paris, and just as filled, if not more, with graffiti.

I have a love/hate relationship with graffiti. I, at times, don’t see the reason why to ruin your city, especially one as beautifully designed as Paris. Paris, luckily, is not as ruined or demolished by its peoples graffiti. I understand people like Invader or Banksy, they are doing work, but people who simply tag and write words or names is such a waste, to me. Milan is filled with tags and names and just horrific graffiti, and to me, that’s why I’m not a fan. 

Places where graffiti is encouraged, like Miami, has actually developed itself into such a newly beautiful city. That is probably why it is becoming such a spot for artists now, because any form of art is so welcome. I feel that places like Miami can achieve this look, because the sense of history is not as old as Paris’s and Milan’s.

The reason I feel so strongly against these two cities being ruined by graffiti, is that it just seems so depressing. When I was in Milan, I just felt like I was in an ugly place. I wanted to leave and the whole point of me being there was for me to heal and get better, but seeing the city overrun by this brute art called “graffiti,” made me grey.

 I know I veered into a full thought process and almost argument about graffiti, but this was a topic that was in my mind so when I saw this topic as an assignment. I thought this would be the perfect time to vent or speak my mind regarding this topic. 

Especially with my recent visit, because I thought comparisons from other cities and from other locations such as from Italy to France is a benefit only from studying abroad in Paris or other Europeans countries can do.

Henry James in Paris

Another day, in Paris. I do not think I will ever be able to say that comfortably or justly. I still to this day have difficulty sitting in a café alone, or even solely choosing and sticking to one café. It’s difficult to commit to one, when all I ever order is a “chocolat chaud.” I feel as if I cannot be or become a true Parisian unless I have this act down and performed accordingly.

Back at home I had a ritual that suited me so perfectly, it was quick. I was in then I was out and the only people who knew I was there were the people who always brought me my favorite predictable order. Starting this process over has been the most difficult.

Another custom I cannot seem to leave is my wearing of sweats outside of the doors of my apartment. My schedule usually consists of me of having to wake up early to walk my dog, and the idea of having to put on an outfit for the simple act of walking my dog sounds entirely outrageous in my mind. I hardly dress up for a day being spent at school.

I have done this before, I have moved and relocated before, but each time I have I always seem to forget the process. New York was the toughest, but once you have the rhythm down it becomes addicting to continue. Everything is a rush, everything is quick, these are all movements and speeds that I adore and adjust well to. I never have patience and it never interested me to have one.

I am situating fine and I am embracing the beauty this city is providing me. The main reason I cannot become comfortable with this city as a home, is mainly because I am not used to living in such a beautiful city. Paris is meant to be looked at, and I am used to always looking down at my little screen and blocking out all sounds with my headphones avoiding all interactions that are not associated with my end goal.

That’s what Paris was for me, initially. My family told me I needed a break and I understand. I have always had a plan and I always wanted to execute it and accomplish it at a specific time with no distractions. New York was for that, but Paris is not for the same. It’s meant for it to be strolled through, admired, and for the notion to live in the present and that is why I have difficulty adjusting to it. 

It isn’t my first time living in Europe, I lived in Italy and my whole family minus my father is located there. So it is an entirely different setting, and when I usually do return there it is for a vacation type situation.

I even abandoned Paris for a few days to return to my second home. A place where I am not constantly asked “are you American?” with a disappointed or disgusted face or to a place where I don’t receive a face of shock or astonishment when I reply in their native tongue.

I left for a sole and one single reason, and my departure later helped benefit two. It did so much and helped me relax. My mom calmed me and told me a multitude of things in Italian. Translating it seems tedious and over exploitive.

When I returned I felt as if I was returning to duty, but that feeling did not impact my new perspective, which is I am here and I might as well make the most of my time in Paris. I apologize for the cliché, but it was the only way to sentence an idea that is indeed true to my state.

Urban (1)

In class we had to march down to the Place de Republique. A place I have never seen… I believe, but I have been hearing a lot about, because of the recent attacks. We walked from school, in a semi group of people.

The walk was impacted by the troubles of, one, the weather and, two, the route. (We got mildly confused with the location and had troubles getting there)

Something I will say I detest about Paris is the location of there street signs. Trying to find them at first did not bother me, but when it starts to pour and I would like to remain hidden under my hood, protected. It becomes quiet bothersome, because I have to look up and search, and I hate the rain.

Something that always crossed my mind about rain and Paris, is that there always put together as this great couple…

Every movie that takes place in Paris, that I have seen always comments about how beautiful it is to stroll through Paris in the rain.

Something about me… I detest the rain.

I tried to enjoy it with Paris, because it is something so wildly known and popular, but to me, I apologize if this sounds ungrateful, hated it.

The rain, as mentioned before, lead me to look down instead of up. It bothered me, trying move around the rain. I tried to look up multiple times and ignore the rain, but I am sorry it was just in the way for me.

I apologize that was a moment of frustration.

When we started route to get the Place de Republique, as mentioned before, I was in the back of the group. I was not speaking to anyone and I was hidden. However, as we marched further along, I found myself moving further along, as well, in the group. I was more in the middle. I was looking at my surroundings more.

It even came to a point where arrived at an area, where our group got a little lost and I pulled out my handy dandy iPhone and we started to follow the guide of my Google maps, but I did not even really need it, because I realized I was near my apartment and my arrondissment. We walked near this church and the Nelson Mandela playground that I went to with my mother.

It is kind of her favorite thing to do, when she visits a new location. She likes to explore all the different churches, and admire the work that people have done.

Anywho! As we continued our stroll, I noticed that our group got a lot smaller we lost some people and we did not know if we should have chased after them, looking for them, or if we should just continue our walk and hopefully just re-meet them there. We went with the second option, because to look around in the rain seems like just trouble. We knew the destination and where everybody was heading so we just went along.

From my iPhone it says that we were five minutes away, but with the rain it felt like hours.

However, when we did finally get there, it was so fascinating to see. I missed the attacks and the march by a week. However, seeing the graffiti and the dedication around the sculpture made it seem more real.

There is something that is surreal about seeing the news and actually SEEING the news.

While waiting for the rest of the group I went in a circle looking at the statue filled with flowers, roses, letters, candles, and etc…

It was very bittersweet to look at. It was sweet to see how a country can unify for a cause, but it was sad because of the reason why they were brought together. It was also sad to see all these men with guns walking all around the city.

After this excursion, I returned home and since it stopped raining I decided to walk since it was not far. I was not alone on my walk home, I was joined by another student and we talked about how we decided not to dorm and etc… and when we separated, I continued my walk home and decided to make it a productive one. I stopped by, I believe, forty monoprix’s.

I, overall, really enjoyed this walk in the end. I learned a new route to walk home from school. Instead of crossing Pont Neuf as I usually do, I crossed another bridge and alongside it were buildings resembling castles, and with my music blasting in my ears it made it all the more tranquil.