"Take it with you to any cafe in any city, and Perec will be both your
drinking partner and your tour guide, drawing your attention to each
little detail coming and going." -Ian Klaus, CityLab
One overcast weekend in October 1974, Georges Perec set out in quest of
the "infraordinary" the humdrum, the non-event, the everyday--"what
happens," as he put it, "when nothing happens." His choice of locale was
Place Saint-Sulpice, where, ensconced behind first one café window, then
another, he spent three days recording everything to pass through his
field of vision: the people walking by; the buses and driving-school
cars caught in their routes; the pigeons moving suddenly en masse; a
wedding (and then a funeral) at the church in the center of the square;
the signs, symbols and slogans littering everything; and the darkness
that finally absorbs it all. In An Attempt at Exhausting a Place in
Paris, Perec compiled a melancholic, slightly eerie and oddly touching
document in which existence boils down to rhythm, writing turns into
time and the line between the empirical and the surreal grows
surprisingly thin.