By Catie Marron
Catie Marron’s City Parks captures the spirit and wonder of eighteen of the world’s most-loved urban parks. Zadie Smith, Ian Frazier, Candice Bergen, Colm Tóibín, Nicole Krauss, Jan Morris, and a dozen different extraordinary members consider a specific park that holds unique which means for them.
Andrew Sean Greer eloquently paints a portrait of past love within the Presidio; André Aciman muses on time’s fleeting nature and the altering face of latest York seen from the excessive Line; Pico Iyer explores hidden areas and privateness in Kyoto; Jonathan regulate takes readers from the 1968 race riots to Obama’s 2008 victory speech in Chicago’s supply Park; Simon Winchester invitations us alongside on his adventures within the Maidan; and invoice Clinton writes of his affection for Dumbarton Oaks.
Oberto Gili’s colour and black-and-white photos unify the writers’ specified and private voices. Taken worldwide over the process a 12 months, in each season, his photos trap the inherent temper of every position. Fusing photographs and textual content, City Parks is a rare and certain venture: via own mirrored image and intimate aspect it faucets into collective reminiscence and our experience of time’s passage.
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Extra resources for City Parks: Public Places, Private Thoughts
One day in April, under a hedge in this walled garden, my husband led our pug to something more melancholy and curious than a pine cone: an empty Statue of Liberty costume, a tin of green spray paint, an empty bucket, an Indian immigrant’s identity card. It took us a while to discover the Villa Borghese. We lived on the other side of town, which is to say, less than fifteen minutes away, but of all the parochial spots in the world, Rome is one of the worst. Each rione is so charming and self-sufficient, you rarely feel the need to adventure beyond it.
It is not one of your aristocratic pleasances or honky-tonk parades, neither a Coney Island nor a Rotten Row, but a proper place of pleasure for a proud and successful middle class. And that is why long ago the Trieste municipality made it a Garden of Worthies. WHEREVER YOU STROLL in the Tommasini Garden, Worthies on plinths confront you, in bronze or in marble, sometimes dotted starkly on an expanse of lawn, sometimes with little flower gardens of their own. You cannot escape them. Emerge from some shady bower into the sunlight and lo, there is a Worthy stern before you.
We had the idea of reaching the Boboli Gardens. But many people set out from a Florence hotel with the hope of getting to a particular place—few ever get there. You step onto a narrow alleyway, carta di citta in hand, walk confidently past the gelato place, struggle through the crowd at the mouth of the Ponte Vecchio, take a left, and find yourself in some godforsaken shady vicolo near a children’s hospital, where the temperature is in the forties and someone keeps trying to sell you a rip-off Prada handbag.