In 1926: living at the edge of time - Monoskop

ROOF GARDENS
There are only a few French intellectuals who, like Paul Morand, admit
they are interested in the cultural phenomena associated with American
capitalism. Among the many things that fascinate Morand in the United
States and Canada are high-rise buildings, which feature prominently in
his travel account Rien que fa terre. Struggling to find a language that
resonates with their status as emblems of modern life's glamorous New
Sobriety, he describes the skyscrapers of downtown Manhattan as
"erect[ing] their fifty magical stories, like Chaldean astrological towers,
to follow more closely the star of the dollar" (Morand, 16). [see Sobriety
vs. Exuberance] This comparison between New York's skyscrapers and
ancient Mesopotamian structures built for astrological observations may
be technically inappropriate, but it is consistent with a widely popular
pattern of dual-level experience. Morand attributes modern economic
functions to these architectural marvels and to their enormous internal
complexity [see Elevators], but he draws the model for his analogy from
his knowledge of the ancient world. [see Authenticity vs. Artificiality]
After crossing North America in an express train [see Railroads],
Morand arrives in Vancouver, where he performs the first gesture that
has become obligatory for tourists from Europe: "I go up to the sixteenth
floor and come out on the roof of the Vancouver Hotel. There is a terrace
with a strip of soot where, in front, are growing those silly flowers which
find their way to the English heart more quickly than words can. The
blue amphitheater of the Rockies always presents the same show, which
198