As part of my job the last few years I am required to travel
to our other location. Nothing onerous I travel by bus and
spend on average of one night a month in a commercial hotel.
I did learn that a lot of the people staying there seem to spend
part of each week away from home so I am quite lucky. It did
however focus my attention on the area around the hotel. All
cities seem to secrete these rings of car lots, train tracks,
outlet malls, lots full of satellite dishes, sandwiched between
fast food restaurants, propane tanks and of course hotels
and motels for the weary traveller. I have not seen them
celebrated a lot in literature but I have not looked
Alain de Botton mentions these areas in some of
his books like "The Pleasures and Sorrows of Work" and
"The Art of Travel" but his books leave me unsatisfied.
J.G.Ballard whose early science fiction themed work I love
wrote a number of later dystopian novels set in high rises,
traffic islands, malls etc. and despite the fact I rarely finished
these novels I often think of them when I confront this landscape.
It is hard to take any great stand against these areas they are
part of every city and a necessity it seems to a way of life that
allows many of us to enjoy a greatly expanded life expectancy,
modern medicine, ample food, great leisure activities travel,
security etc.
However their growth strikes me as predicated only on
expediency, economy and convenience. They owe nothing
to grace or charm or beauty or the human spirit. No one
sleeps there but the displaced.
While on the trip I mentioned in my earlier post
we got up early to take the dogs out and I
photographed the area around our perfectly nice hotel.
At least there was one familiar face and having the
whole family there made it much friendlier.
"I knew I'd have to face my aging
and my death, but not
the death of forests, not of oceans, not the air:"
Mountain Ash without Cedar Waxwings
Robert Pack
"I feel as empty as my mountain ash
without the cedar waxwing here,
I feel the loss, wide as out universe,
of everything that I hold dear?"
Mountain Ash without Cedar Waxwings
Robert Pack
"I believe in my own obsessions, in the beauty of the car crash,
in the peace of the submerged forest, in the excitements of
the deserted holiday beach, in the elegance of automobile
graveyards, in the mystery of multi-storey car parks,
in the poetry of abandoned hotels."
What I believe
J.G. Ballard
Perhaps some balance would be nice.