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229 reviews for:
Flâneuse: Women Walk the City in Paris, New York, Tokyo, Venice and London
Lauren Elkin
3.54 AVERAGE
229 reviews for:
Flâneuse: Women Walk the City in Paris, New York, Tokyo, Venice and London
Lauren Elkin
3.54 AVERAGE
reflective
medium-paced
A tonal and conceptual flop. Flaneuse bills itself as an exploration of how women move through cities and inhabit public space. In reality, Flaneuse is the contrived collection of a few chapter length biographies of the bourgeoisie literati Elkin studied in graduate school, followed by several chapters of rants, personal anecdotes, and summaries of art the author likes.
Flaneuse says next to nothing about how women as a whole engage with urban life or the built environment. It is pitifully limited in scope — to Elkin, the great metropolises of the world are evidently NYC, Paris, London, Paris, Venice, Paris again (1/3 of the book is about Paris)... and a single, emaciated nod to Tokyo that ends up being depressingly racist.
For her Tokyo chapter, Elkin doesn't bother to research a SINGLE female Japanese writer, artist, or activist (despite exhaustively discussing at least one female creative for her Western cities). Instead, Elkin spends 30 pages wallowing in how mystifying and repulsive her time in Tokyo was (recounting with disgust the dirty buildings, the offensively exotic food [some of which she doesn't even spell correctly — it should be okonomiyaki with an "i"], the shrill pigeon-toed women...) — betraying her oblivion to the history of Japanese student + feminist movements, as well as her ignorance of the Japanese art scene.
As the orientalist cherry on top, the only other time Elkin discusses a non-Western country for more than one sentence is a paragraph about Gellhorn + Hemingway's trip to China ft. opium dens, mahjong parlors, and the lovely phrase "her hands were covered in 'Chinese rot.'" Joy! How about using that degree to research what WOC have to say about their own cities, Lauren?
tl;dr — Having a PhD does not a good writer make. Flaneuse suffers from terminal Academic Syndrome, and Elkin has clearly only ever had a captive audience that is forced to read her work and thus thinks everything she says is intelligent, interesting, and important. You're better off reading Benjamin + Barthes and watching Cleo 5 to 7 in your own time instead of wading through a sea of WW tears for scant crumbs of insightful synthesis.
Flaneuse says next to nothing about how women as a whole engage with urban life or the built environment. It is pitifully limited in scope — to Elkin, the great metropolises of the world are evidently NYC, Paris, London, Paris, Venice, Paris again (1/3 of the book is about Paris)... and a single, emaciated nod to Tokyo that ends up being depressingly racist.
For her Tokyo chapter, Elkin doesn't bother to research a SINGLE female Japanese writer, artist, or activist (despite exhaustively discussing at least one female creative for her Western cities). Instead, Elkin spends 30 pages wallowing in how mystifying and repulsive her time in Tokyo was (recounting with disgust the dirty buildings, the offensively exotic food [some of which she doesn't even spell correctly — it should be okonomiyaki with an "i"], the shrill pigeon-toed women...) — betraying her oblivion to the history of Japanese student + feminist movements, as well as her ignorance of the Japanese art scene.
As the orientalist cherry on top, the only other time Elkin discusses a non-Western country for more than one sentence is a paragraph about Gellhorn + Hemingway's trip to China ft. opium dens, mahjong parlors, and the lovely phrase "her hands were covered in 'Chinese rot.'" Joy! How about using that degree to research what WOC have to say about their own cities, Lauren?
tl;dr — Having a PhD does not a good writer make. Flaneuse suffers from terminal Academic Syndrome, and Elkin has clearly only ever had a captive audience that is forced to read her work and thus thinks everything she says is intelligent, interesting, and important. You're better off reading Benjamin + Barthes and watching Cleo 5 to 7 in your own time instead of wading through a sea of WW tears for scant crumbs of insightful synthesis.
informative
reflective
medium-paced
I loved, loved, loved the first chapter of this book, because I related so closely: I also learned the word "flaner" while studying abroad in Paris, having already spent much of the trip walking around aimlessly, let loose after a suburban childhood. As a city-dweller who has never paid car insurance and gets increasingly anxious behind the wheel, I also prefer to consume the world through my feet (and kind of judge others if they'd rather run all their errand by car). So if that's you, read the rest of the book and see what you think.
Personally, I found the rest of the book kind of meandery (form following content?), and I didn't get much out of either the sporadic memoir (didn't come for that) nor the cursory analysis of some women artists who lived in cities (didn't come for that either). I guess I wish the book had been (and expected it to be) more of a dive into the concept of flanerie and a more serious and academic examination of how women have interacted with and related to cities, public space, and urban exploration, using case studies from the cities mentioned in the subtitle. But still, I think you should read it and make up your own mind.
Also: not Americanized.
Personally, I found the rest of the book kind of meandery (form following content?), and I didn't get much out of either the sporadic memoir (didn't come for that) nor the cursory analysis of some women artists who lived in cities (didn't come for that either). I guess I wish the book had been (and expected it to be) more of a dive into the concept of flanerie and a more serious and academic examination of how women have interacted with and related to cities, public space, and urban exploration, using case studies from the cities mentioned in the subtitle. But still, I think you should read it and make up your own mind.
Also: not Americanized.
adventurous
lighthearted
reflective
slow-paced
stupidddddd. sorry I’m a hater!!!! this book is written by the kind of caroline-calloway american lady that studies abroad for six months and says “arse” instead of “ass” for the rest of her life. the overall conceit is good (best chapters were on agnès varda, sophie calle - we notice it’s only white french female filmmakers she has the best capacity to write about) but each chapter broken up into different cities and artists she examines are SO uneven and any moment that memoir enters the picture it all goes rapidly downhill. and she’s weirdly racist/xenophobic toward the japanese, especially japanese women
informative
reflective
slow-paced
disappointingly mid - a great premise for a project but it didn't really live up to its potential. liked the chapters where she incorporated her own lived experience the most, a lot of the other chapters just felt like beefed out wikipedia articles with very little analysis or argument (the Woolf and Rhys ones in particular)
I liked the book in general, but I got really frustrated when she said Roppongi is the foreigner’s ghetto in Tokyo (in fact it’s one of the most affluent areas in Tokyo where so-called “expats” enjoy their privileges and by no means it’s a ghetto) and couldn’t bring myself to read any further until 2 months later.
informative
inspiring
reflective
medium-paced
informative
reflective
slow-paced
informative
inspiring
medium-paced
I've had this on my TBR almost since it came out and I wish I read it sooner. I really enjoyed it. It rang similarly to Women I Think About at Night, which was my favorite read last year.