Species of Spaces and Other Pieces by Georges Perec

Species of Spaces and Other Pieces Reviews

• 
  Glenn Russell

  
  
  
  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.
• 
  Steven Godin

  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!
• 
  Comfortably

  Genius.. και καψιαρικο!
• 
  Sofia

  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.
• 
  Χαρά Ζ.

  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.
• 
  Chris_P

  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!
• 
  Eirini D

  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...
• 
  Adam Floridia

  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)
  
  
• 
  Argos

  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.
• 
  Makis Dionis

  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
• 
  SeirenAthena

  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.
• 
  Ermocolle

  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.
• 
  Paul

  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.
• 
  Quiver

  
  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.)
• 
  Maricruz

  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.
• 
  Andrew

  If 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.
• 
  Ορφέας Μαραγκός

  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.
• 
  Ronald Morton

  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.
• 
  Stephanie McGarrah

  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.
  
• 
  Lore

  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.
• 
  sinepudore

  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
• 
  Sara Mazzoni

  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.
• 
  Moshtagh ghurdarvazi

  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.
• 
  Alex

  "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.
• 
  Sebastian Radu

  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.
• 
  نوري

  الكتاب الذي طا�� 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.
• 
  دايس محمد

  نص كالهاوية، عن كل المحيطات حول الإنسان، حول جورج بيرك، والآخرين، عن معنى الفضاء والمكان والذكريات والفيزياء والجغرافيا والتاريخ والأدب والأسرة والنوم والحقائب التي تصير أحياناً وطناً على حد تعبير مظفر النواب، الكتاب/ النص عن هذا كله، معاني المكان العالم وأوروبا وفرنسا وباريس والحي والشارع والمنزل والغرفة والكلمات المتقاطعة والتاريخ اليومي الذي يصير حدثاً شخصياً لا يعني الآخرين بشيءٍ إلا لكونه نصاً يلامسهم، ويشير عليهم ويأخذهم نحو كل ما هو فضاءٌ عامٌ أو خاصٌ بذاته، النصوص ليست رحلة انتقال من العام إلى الخاص بل سيرة لكليهما، سيرة للغرفة والمنزل ووو، والإنسان.
  
• 
  Jowita Mazurkiewicz

  Osobliwy przewodnik po przestrzeniach uniwersalnych, jednocześnie dowcipny i nostalgiczny, czyniący codzienność namacalną.
  Fajny, bardzo pojemny koncept. Lubię, jak Perec postrzega świat wokół, zwłaszcza wówczas gdy zachwyca się oczywistościami i stawia je pod znakiem zapytania.
• 
  Andrea

  George Perec is an author whose work fills me with delight, Species of Space and the other pieces found in this collection are wonderful. Insightful. Playful. Everyday. Extraordinary. Not least because he loves lists as much as I do, more perhaps. I read his piece on the
  Place Sans-Sulpice, and meant to read this too before going to Paris. So now it calls me back.
  
  I particularly love how Perec is obsessed with space, but approaches it completely differently than would a planner, an architect, an urbanist. He approaches it from multiple directions, but almost none of them overlap with such work. The whole of Species of Space is to be found in this compilation, and excerpts from a few other works. I am almost annoyed at this stolen peek at them, because I loved this so much I shall have to go back and read all the rest.
  Species of Space
  It opens with this:
  
  
  Hurrah.
  
  In short order you have a wonderful definition of our experience of space.
  

  In short, spaces have multiplied, been broken up and have diversified. There are spaces today of every kind and every size, for every use and every function. To live is to pass from one space to another, while doing your very best not to bump yourself. (6)

  
  There are poems from Paul Elouard, playful drippings of words and letters across the page, plenty of empty white space between black typography.
  

  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 harbours...
  
  Space as inventory, space as invention. Space begins with that model map in the old editions of the Petit Larousse Illustre, which used to represent something like 65 geographical terms in 60 sq, cm., miraculously brought together, deliberately abstract. (13)

  
  I remember my own childhood pouring over something like the English equivalent of such a book, full of maps and descriptions and magic. A memory of being inordinately proud of a map of South America I drew. I feel as though that memory is housed in the trailer, which means I was not more than five.
  
  Perec gives us this, a gift:
  

  Sitting deep in thought at their tables, writers are forming lines of words.
  
  An idealized scene. Space as reassurance. (15)
  

  
  Is this partly what I love about writing?
  
  From here he starts on the spaces of lived experience. He starts from the inside out so to speak, with the bed itself. An interesting choice, I feel a good one. Each thing he describes, he begins with the most banal and simple of descriptions, but it serves to take something familiar and make it suddenly unfamiliar -- and because the time and space between us, what is familiar to Perec is in fact not always familiar to me.
  

  4.
  A few other banalities:
  
  We spend more than a third of our lives in bed. (19)

  
  Moves on to the bedroom, notes the curious fact that he can visually reconstruct every room he's ever slept in. A few observations:
  

  3.
  
  What does it mean, to live in a room? Is to live in a place to take possession of it? ...
  
  4.
  Placid small thought no 1
  
  Any cat-owner will rightly tell you that cats inhabit houses much better than people do. Even in the most dreadfully square spaces, they know how to find favourable corners. (24)

  
  That is honestly one of the most insightful things I have ever read ... because of course cats do. The question is, how?
  
  From there to the apartment.
  

  I don't know, and don't want to know, where functionality begins or ends. It seems to me, in any case, that in the ideal dividing-up of today's apartments functionality functions in accordance with a procedure that is unequivocal, sequential and nycthemeral. (28)

  
  The footnote? 'This is the best phrase in the whole book!'
  
  I might agree. I had to look up nycthemeral:
  

  Adjective -- Designating or characterized by a variation that occurs in a period of twenty-four hours, especially corresponding to the contrast between day and night. (
  Oxford Dictionary)

  
  From here he proceeds to give an outline in three columns -- time | activity | room. Again, the taken-for-granted of French housewife-- working husband--child in school becomes estranged, and for me now so removed from such a life, really quite interesting.
  
  The final section:
  

  Staircases
  
  We don't think enough about staircases.
  
  Nothing was more beautiful in old houses than the staircases. Nothing is uglier, colder, more hostile, meaner, in today's apartment buildings.(38)

  
  I suddenly thought what a difference it would make to give modern apartment buildings wonderful, beautiful staircases.
  
  We move on to the apartment building. Then to the Street.
  

  The buildings stand one beside the other. They form a straight line. They are expected to form a line, and it's a serious defect in them when they don't do so. They are then said to be 'subject to alignment', meaning that they can by rights be demolished, so as to be rebuilt in a straight line with the others. (46)

  
  I can't believe this is a thing everywhere, it definitely was in LA.
  
  He looks at 'practical exercises' for understanding the street --
  

  Carry on
  Until the scene becomes improbable.
  until you have the impression, for the briefest of moments, that you are in a strange town or, better still, until you can no longer understand what is happening or is not happening, until the whole place becomes strange, and you no longer even know that this is what is called a town, a street, buildings, pavement... (53)

  
  Wonderful.
  
  On to the neighbourhood.
  

  Death of a Neighbourhood
  
  What I miss above all is the neighbourhood cinema, with its ghastly advertisements for the dry cleaner's on the corner. (58)

  
  A curious question, a provoking question that immediately raises in me a great rushing of answers:
  

  Why not set a higher value on dispersal? Instead of living in just one place, and trying in vain to gather yourself together there, why not have fix or six rooms dotted about Paris? (59)

  
  On to the Town. On to the countryside.
  
  I don't have a lot to say concerning the country: the country doesn't exist. It's an illusion.
  
  For most people of my kind, the country is a decorative space surrounding their second home...(68)
  
  That I find rather hilarious. As I do the whole section on the 'Village Utopia' (70), where you know everyone, live happily, recognize all the birds. It kind of reminds me of the Stuart Lee sketch about the family who leave London for the country and start by praising the pony and end begging for him to visit and to bring cocaine. This is not nearly as obvious, however. The next section is on the 'Nostalgic (and false) alternative' (71) -- between putting down roots or living completely rootless. They are interesting posed this way.
  
  On to the country. Europe. Old Continent. New Continent. The World.
  
  In getting to know a few square meters, Perec writes
  

  And 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. (79)

  
  And on to space. A quote from Italo Calvino's Cosmicomics. I don't really like Italo Calvino, but I love Lawrence Stern's Tristram Shandy, which Perec seems to love as much as I do and quotes from often and at length.
  
  Then there is this extraordinary list, already pulled out and set in a blog alone because I treasure it, but repeated again in its context, where perhaps it sits a bit differently:
  

  The Uninhabitable
  
  The uninhabitable: Seas used as a dump, coastlines bristling with barbed wire, earth bare of vegetation, mass graves, piles of carcasses, boggy rivers, towns that smell bad
  
  The uninhabitable: The architecture of contempt or display, the vainglorious mediocrity of tower blocks, thousands of rabbit hutches piled one above the other, the cutprice ostentation of company headquarters
  
  The uninhabitable: the skimped, the airless, the small, the mean, the shrunken, the very precisely calculated
  
  The uninhabitable: the confined, the out-of-bounds, the encaged, the bolted, walls jagged with broken glass, judas windows, reinforced doors
  
  The uninhabitable: shanty towns, townships
  
  The hostile, the grey, the anonymous, the ugly, the corridors of the Metro, public baths, hangars, car parks, marshalling yards, ticket windows, hotel bedrooms
  
  factories, barracks, prisons, asylums, old people's homes, lycees, law courts, school playgrounds (89-90)

  
  Followed by another disquieting paragraph
  

  Such places don't exist, and it's because they don't exist that space becomes a question, ceases to be self-evident, ceases to be incorporated, ceases to be appropriated. Space is a doubt: I have constantly to mark it, to designate it. It's never mine, never given to me, I have to conquer it. (91)

  
  Species of Space closes with the best index I have ever seen.
  
  Penser / Classer (1985)
  In 'Notes on What I'm Looking For', Perec describes four modes of his work, and this makes great sense of Species of Space and the other things I have read -- and have yet to read. They are
  

  'sociological': how to look at the everyday.
  
  an autobiographical order (141)
  
  The third is ludic and relates to my liking for constraints, for feats of skill, for 'playing scales'....
  
  the fictive, the liking for stories and adventures, the wish to write the sort of books that are devoured lying face down on your bed. (142)

  
  Then there is 'Notes Concerning the Objects that are on my Work Table', a list, a thinking through of all the ways to arrange a desk (he has an ammonite in his desk!). There is 'Brief Notes on the Art and Manner of Arranging One's Books. The stacks of books to read, half read, to be shelved...the constant rearranging by theme, by author. It is such an intimate look at a life so like mine it is uncanny, a friendship across years and miles.
  
  A little later on you discover in 'Reading: A Socio-physiological Outline' that when Perec visits a friends house he raids their bookshelves for all the things he has long wanted to read, then retreats with a stack of them to his room to read through the night.
  'L'Infra-ordinaire' (1989)
  From 'Approaches to What', one of my very favourite quotes from the book, one that unexpectedly captures as well as
  Rob Nixon's concept of 'slow violence' the difference between the spectacular and the everyday:
  

  In our haste to measure the historic, significant and revelatory, let's not leave aside the essential: the truly intolerable, the truly inadmissible. What is scandalous isn't the pit explosion, it's working in coalmines. 'Social problems' aren't 'a matter of concern' when there's a strike, they are intolerable twenty-four hours out of twenty-four, three hundred and sixty-five days a year. (209)

  
  He perhaps captures even better at the level of the individual why these kind of problems are not better understood, better struggled against.
  

  To question the habitual. But that's just it, we're habituated to it. We don't question it, it doesn't question us, it doesn't seem to pose a problem, we live it without thinking, as if carried within neither questions nor answers ... This is no longer even conditioning, it's anaesthesia. We sleep through our lives in a dreamless sleep. But where is our life? Where is our body? Where is our space? (210)

  
  A final, brilliant admonition that shall remain with me forever in the daily rituals of life.
  

  Question your tea spoons. (210)

  
  He wrote an amazing piece on the Rue Vilin -- where I am headed next time I am in Paris. The street his family lived on, where he lived until he was five. He returns and describes it shop by shop, building by building, sign by sign, at different times of day (all noted of course) in February 1969, June 1970, January 1971, November 1972, November 1974, November 1975. We witness the death of the street as it was. It is poignant, extraordinary, while it never rises above concrete description.
  
  A collection of postcard messages rendered extraordinary by being grouped together. A puzzle, recurring styles, so many good meals and sunburns.
  
  A list of everything Perec has 'ingurgitated' over the whole of 1974. What struck me most? He gives years for each of the wines.
  
  All together, as I say, this was a book combining delight and insight. I also loved that this ended with some of Perec's (impossible, also slightly problematic) word games constructed for his friends, and a few from the translator.
  
  I will now go read everything else he has written. Except maybe the novel without the letter e.
  
• 
  Tuomas Aitonurmi

  Tällä hetkellä käytössä olevat tilat rajautuvat monilla kodin huoneisiin, kauppa- ja lenkkireitteihin. Georges Perecin teos pohtii erilaisten tilojen ja oleskeluympäristöjen yksityiskohtia, niistä rakentuvaa poetiikkaa. Sanoisin, että tämä kuuluu tyyliltään kiistellyn lyyrisen esseen piiriin, vaikka termiä ei vielä varsinaisesti käytetty kirjan ilmestyessä. Kyseessä on hieno moderni klassikko. Tiloja / Avaruuksia on lahja, joka jatkaa antamistaan sivulta toiselle – varsinkin kirjoittajalle se tarjoaa paljon kiinnekohtia.
  
  ”Kaupungissa ei ole mitään epäinhimillistä - ellei sitten oma ihmisyytemme.” (s. 74)
  
  ”Jos mikään ei pysäytä katsettamme, se kantaa hyvin kauas. Mutta jos se ei kohtaa mitään, se ei näe mitään; se näkee vain kohtaamansa: tila pysäyttää katseen, se on este johon katse seisahtuu: kappale, kulma, pakopiste – –” (s. 97)