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Saturday, March 16, 2019

Lawrence Ferlinghetti turns 100

a City Lights pilgrimage
(source: Jason Henry for NY Times)
no copyright infringement intended


On March 24 Lawrence Ferlinghetti turns 100. Naturally, it will be a celebration, too, of City Lights, the bookstore he co-founded in 1953, a place so dense with serious world literature of every stripe, and so absent trinkets and elaborate bookmarks and candles and other foofaraw, that it’s a Platonic ideal (NY Times.) And also, naturally, it will be a celebration of San Francisco, this place with endless street movies passing in cars and trams of desire (NY Times.)

And names like Ginsberg and Kerouac will naturally come to mind.

Jack Kerouac Alley
(source: Jason Henry for NY Times)
no copyright infringement intended





(Lawrence Ferlinghetti)

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Wednesday, May 23, 2012

Portrait of a Bookstore as an Old Man


Shakespeare and Company, on 37 Rue de la Bûcherie, Paris, an incredible place even on the standards of such an incredible city. It is a chaotic English-language bookstore where one can find virtually any book ever (not only in Shakespeare's tongue, possibly in any given gibberish), in the same time a chaotic reading library, also a chaotic shelter for young and older literature lovers. You can find a bed there, among the bookshelves (forget about fresh sheets), also a very bohemian breakfast (forget about food hygiene rules), provided you have written something, or you have in mind to write, in some indefinite future; the general rule is to help in the bookstore during the day in order to sleep there during the night.

Allen Ginsberg, Henry Miller, Anaïs Nin, Jacques Prévert, have been among the customers, and seemingly 40,000 people have spent there a night or two, or more, throughout the decades: it is a shelter for any books, as controversial, outrageous, or damned as they could be, for writers and aspiring writers, anarchists et al. and for ideas, radical or crazy, whatever.

The shop was opened in 1951, by George Whitman, an American intensely living the Beat spirit of those years. It had been, some centuries earlier, a monastery on that site, and George built there a shrine for bohemians, a den of anarchists disguised as a bookstore, as someone would later coin the thing.


An old fountain, one of those delicious Parisian paraphernalia, is in front of the bookstore, and the place is superb especially during April, with the silhouette of Notre Dame delicately emerging behind the blossoming trees. The street is just across l'Île de la Cité, on the Rive Gauche. It's an old street, this Rue de la Bûcherie: its name comes from the Middle Ages, when damaged meats were salted and boiled here to feed the poorest (according to wiki). My first encounter with Rue de la Bûcherie was through a famous photo, that I saw at an exhibition: the image of the street, with l'eau, ruisselant prés du trottoir, had been taken sometime in 1865 or 1869 (or in between, scholars are still debating), by one of the greatest Parisian photographers, Charles Marville (le chanteur triste d'une vielle balade... le témoin élégiaque d'un Paris qui n'est plus).

Charles Marville, Rue de la Bucherie Charles Marville, Rue de la Bûcherie, 1865/1869
l'eau, ruisselant prés du trottoir...
(http://theonlinephotographer.blogspot.com/2006/04/photographic-discoveries-at-national.html)

The first name of the bookstore has been Le Mistral. Later, in 1964, George Whitman renamed it Shakespeare and Company, as a tribute to the first Parisian bookstore carrying this name. Because it had been a first Shakespeare and Company in Paris, opened in 1919 by Sylvia Beach, also an American irresistibly attracted by La Ville-Lumière.

That older bookstore had been an epicenter of the modernism during the years of the Lost Generation (Les Années folles, as the 20's remained known), and later, throughout the 30's. Hemingway, Ezra Pound, Gertrude Stein, Scott Fitzgerald, Man Ray, have been assiduous visitors, and James Joyce (who set his office in the bookstore) nicknamed it Stratford-on-Odéon (as the building was situated on Rue de l'Odéon). The bookstore was a host for famous books initially banned everywhere else, Lady Chatterley's Lover, or Ulysses, for instance. Actually Joyce's novel has been firstly published integrally there, at Shakespeare and Company!

Hemingway would warmly recall the memory of the store from Rue de l'Odéon, in his Moveable Feast:

On a cold windswept street, this was a warm, cheerful place with a big stove in winter, tables and shelves of books, new books in the window, and photographs on the wall of famous writers both dead and living. The photographs all looked like snapshots and even the dead writers looked as though they had really been alive.

That first bookstore was closed in 1940, during the German occupation, and never re-opened (though Hemingway famously entered the building in 1944 to liberate it). And in opening the second bookstore, George Whitman had in mind to revive the spirit of the old Shakespeare and Company. George ran the place till 2003 (he was 93 years old then). After that the responsibility of the venture passed to  his daughter (Sylvia Beach Whitman - she was given the name of the founder of the first bookstore).

A whole story, and, as you would expect, the bookstore rose also the interest of film makers. Shakespeare and Company had a cameo in a 2011 movie of Woody Allen: Midnight in Paris. The main character (Owen Wilson), a sympathetic dreamer who's writing a novel about the Paris of the 20's, takes in the end his courage and decides to break with his too pragmatic fiancée and his too pragmatic well-being in California. He chooses La Ville-Lumière instead, whatever will happen: after all Paris is dead drop gorgeous when it rains! And the bookstore from Rue de la Bûcherie appears on the screen just for a second, maybe to reassure us that finding a place to stay in Paris is not that impossible.

A longer apparition was in 2004's Before Sunset: a young American writer (Ethan Hawke) spends an afternoon in Paris, invited to have a reading at Shakespeare and Company. An old flame (Julie Delpy) is there by chance. They had a brief romance in Vienna, nine years earlier. Life went on and many things happened meanwhile, but the chemistry still exists (maybe subtly fueled by the special universe of the bookstore, who knows?)

Well, Shakespeare and Company has also a movie of its own,  a gorgeous documentary made in 2003, Portrait of a Bookstore as an Old Man. The filmmakers (Gonzague Pichelin and Benjamin Sutherland, directors and screenplayers) mixed archive footage with live shots, and succeeded to render that incredibly bohemian world. George Whitman, his daughter Sylvia, Ferlinghetti, Allen Ginsberg, Sylvia Beach, Lawrence Durrell, and all the others, playing as themselves, interviewed on the spot or brought from the archives, the whole bunch of rebels is there, the utopia is alive. And the little stories coming and going now and then, that student who's trying to fix the carpet in one of the rooms, using pancake batter as glue, or George himself, using the flame of a candle to trim his hair, you have to see that to believe. Add to this the great soundtrack, authored by Michael Galasso, who used here the same theme as in Chungking Express.  And George, everywhere everytime, moody and restless, like a devil in a box, comme un diable au fond de sa boîte.





George Whitman passed away in December 2011. He was 98 years old. Shakespeare and Company has remained a miraculous place in Paris. There is only one more place like that in the world, the City Lights Books in San Francisco, whose founder, Lawrence Ferlinghetti, was a close friend of George Whitman.

Speaking about all this, I have the feeling of witnessing a time-space warp, as everything is becoming ubiquitous. All history of Rue de la Bûcherie is there, together with the Lost Generation and with the Beatniks, with May 68, San Francisco and Paris, all this unified in one denominator: the persistence of free spirit.



(A Life in Books)

(Benjamin Sutherland and Gonzague Pichelin)

(Michael Galasso)

(The Fitzgeralds)

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Tuesday, May 22, 2012

Ferlinghetti: Constantly Risking Absurdity



Constantly risking absurdity
and death
whenever he performs
above the heads
of his audience
the poet like an acrobat
climbs on rime
to a high wire of his own making
and balancing on eyebeams
above a sea of faces
paces his way
to the other side of the day
performing entrachats
and sleight-of-foot tricks
and other high theatrics
and all without mistaking
any thing
for what it may not be
For he's the super realist
who must perforce perceive
taut truth
before the taking of each stance or step
in his supposed advance
toward that still higher perch
where Beauty stands and waits
with gravity
to start her death-defying leap
And he
a little charleychaplin man
who may or may not catch
her fair eternal form
spreadeagled in the empty air
of existence




(Lawrence Ferlinghetti)

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Ferlinghetti: A Vast Confusion

(http://www.rooknet.net/beatpage/writers/ferlinghetti.html)
no copyright infringement intended


Long long I lay in the sands

Sounds of trains in the surf
in subways of the sea
And an even greater undersound
of a vast confusion in the universe
a rumbling and a roaring
as of some enormous creature turning
under sea and earth
a billion sotto voices murmuring
a vast muttering
a swelling stuttering
in ocean's speakers
world's voice-box heard with ear to sand
a shocked echoing
a shocking shouting
of all life's voices lost in night
And the tape of it
somehow running backwards now
through the Moog Synthesizer of time
Chaos unscrambled
back to the first
harmonies
And the first light






Says SarbearK, no matter how much I can't stand English class, there are some projects that are just flat out fun to work on; this was one of them; it's an artistic representation of Lawrence Ferlinghetti's poem, A Vast Confusion (1976); I drew out each and every frame....all 69 of them, scanned them to the computer, edited them, and finally assembled it on WMM; I have to apologize for the subtitles though; they go by pretty fast; music is by Hans Zimmer from the Gladiator soundtrack (I think its titled The Battle).


(Lawrence Ferlinghetti)

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Monday, May 21, 2012

Ferlinghetti: Baseball Canto


Watching baseball, sitting in the sun, eating popcorn,
reading Ezra Pound,
and wishing that Juan Marichal would hit a hole right through the
Anglo-Saxon tradition in the first Canto
and demolish the barbarian invaders.
When the San Francisco Giants take the field
and everybody stands up for the National Anthem,
with some Irish tenor's voice piped over the loudspeakers,
with all the players struck dead in their places
and the white umpires like Irish cops in their black suits and little
black caps pressed over their hearts,
Standing straight and still like at some funeral of a blarney bartender,
and all facing east,
as if expecting some Great White Hope or the Founding Fathers to
appear on the horizon like 1066 or 1776.
But Willie Mays appears instead,
in the bottom of the first,
and a roar goes up as he clouts the first one into the sun and takes
off, like a footrunner from Thebes.
The ball is lost in the sun and maidens wail after him
as he keeps running through the Anglo-Saxon epic.
And Tito Fuentes comes up looking like a bullfighter
in his tight pants and small pointy shoes.
And the right field bleechers go made with Chicanos and blacks
and Brooklyn beer-drinkers,
"Tito! Sock it to him, sweet Tito!"
And sweet Tito puts his foot in the bucket
and smacks one that don't come back at all,
and flees around the bases
like he's escaping from the United Fruit Company.
As the gringo dollar beats out the pound.
And sweet Tito beats it out like he's beating out usury,
not to mention fascism and anti-semitism.
And Juan Marichal comes up,
and the Chicano bleechers go loco again,
as Juan belts the first ball out of sight,
and rounds first and keeps going
and rounds second and rounds third,
and keeps going and hits paydirt
to the roars of the grungy populace.
As some nut presses the backstage panic button
for the tape-recorded National Anthem again,
to save the situation.

But it don't stop nobody this time,
in their revolution round the loaded white bases,
in this last of the great Anglo-Saxon epics,
in the territorio libre of Baseball.




(Lawrence Ferlinghetti)

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Lawrence Ferlinghetti

San Francisco's first poet laureate, Lawrence Ferlinghetti
in front of his City Lights Bookstore
SF Chronicle photo by John O'Hara
(http://www.sfgate.com/cgi-bin/article.cgi?f=/c/a/1998/08/12/MN76094.DTL)
no copyright infringement intended

Founded in 1953 by Lawrence Ferlinghetti and Peter D. Martin, City Lights is a place where book lovers from across the country and around the world come to browse, read, and just soak in the ambiance of alternative culture's Territorio Libre.

Lawrence Ferlinghetti was born in Yonkers, New York in 1919. Shortly after his birth, he was sent to France to be raised by a female relative. It wasn't until his return to America, at the age of five, that this future poet learned to speak English. Ferlinghetti also began writing poetry during his years at boarding school in the late 1920's.
During his adolescence, Lawrence joined a street gang known as the Parkway Road Pirates, which led to an arrest for petty theft. Soon after, a woman by the name of Sally Bisland handed the troubled young man a copy of Baudelaire poems and inspired within him a love for literature.
After his graduation from high school, Ferlinghetti attended the University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill, where he enjoyed works by Hemingway, Faulkner, Dos Passos and Wolfe. He even began writing a novel inspired by Wolfe's Look Homeward, Angel.
Many of his early years were spent living the life of the Beat. On one occasion, Ferlinghetti and a couple of friends hitchhiked and hopped freight trains to Mexico while reading many of the popular poets of the period.
Ferlinghetti then joined the Navy where he became a Lieutenant Commander. Six weeks after the dropping of the atomic bomb, Ferlinghetti was discharged and spent some time in Portland. The G.I. Bill, along with his interest in writers, had him furthering his studies at the Sorbonne in Paris.
In 1952, Ferlinghetti became acquainted with Kenneth Rexroth. Rexroth had already established himself as a notable West Coast writer, artist and political activist. After meeting Peter Martin, the publisher of City Lights magazine, the two planned to open a bookshop by the same name.
The City Lights bookstore of San Francisco soon became a mecca for writers and artists, many of them well established in the field of contemporary literature. The movement was catapulted by readings from writers such as Michael McClure, Allen Ginsberg and Gary Snyder and became known as the Beat period.
Perhaps one of the most volatile and creative times in post-modern literature, the Beat sub-culture today is looked back upon as a very glorious period. Ferlinghetti remains one of the most notable writers from those times and his writings are still widely read and appreciated today.




(A Life in Books)

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Sunday, June 18, 2006

Robert Doisneau - Prévert

Robert Doisneau, Jacques Prevert with dog
RECIPE FOR HAPPINESS IN
KHABAROVSK OR ANYPLACE


One grand boulevard with trees
with one grand cafe in sun
with small black coffee in very small cups

one not necessarily beautiful
man or woman who loves you
one fine day


Lawrence Ferlinghetti


City Lights Books - the home of beat literature, started by Ferlinghetti along with Peter Martin back in 1953 - the first bookstore in America offering all-paperback. Now it is a famous (some would say infamous) landmark in San Francisco. Howl of Allen Ginsberg will be 50 in November. City Lights will celebrate the anniversary with Howl on Trial: The Battle for Free Expression, the historic First Amendment obscenity case.

We don't believe in relaxing with a good book. You can only relax with a mediocre book; a good book can make you so happy you want to scream, or so mad you want to kill.

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