400
PARTISAN REVIEW
THE METEOROLOGICAL DEPRESSIONS of Paris have an oceanic feel; the
Atlantic dispatches them in the direction of the continent. The wind
blows, dark clouds scurry across the city like racecars. The rain falls at
a spiteful slant. At times the heavens' face appears, a scrap of blue. And
then it's dark again, the Seine becomes a black pavement. The lowlands
of Paris seethe with oceanic energy, thunderbolts pop like champagne
corks. Whereas a typical Central European depression-centered some–
where above the Carpathians-behaves completely differently: it's sub–
dued and melancholy, one might say philosophical. The clouds barely
move. They're shaped differently; they're like an enormous blimp
drooping over Krakow's Old Market. The light shifts gradually; the vio–
let glow fades, giving way to yellow spotlights. The sun skulks some–
where behind silken clouds, illuminating the most varied strata of earth
and sky. Some of the clouds resemble deep-sea fishes that have ascended
to the surface and swim with mouths wide open, as if startled by the
taste of air. This kind of weather can last for several days, the meek cli–
mate of Central Europe. And if, after lengthy deliberations, a thunder–
storm does strike, it behaves as if it were stuttering. Instead of a sharp,
decisive shot, it emits a series of drawn-out sounds,
pa pa pa pa-an
echo instead of a blast. Thunder on the installment plan.
SOMETIMES, AS I PASS BENEATH the open windows of a ground-floor
apartment, a radio will be playing Elvis Presley or one of his many con–
temporaries or descendants, hits back in the sixties, but still popular
today. And the radio, accidentally overheard, evokes the shrill voice of
the electric guitar as I remember it from school dances and student
clubs. The shrill, primal sound of the electric guitar, like the voice of a
pheasant in the meadow. The electric guitar, morose and sentimental, or
at the other extreme, full of sickly vigor, never fails to revive in us that
dormant Cartesian question: What is it that keeps body and soul
together?
BEAUTIFUL, BEWITCHING KRAKOW. Initiates call it one of our planet'S
holy places. They say that its castle hill conceals an incalculably pre–
cious stone, a rocky talisman possessing magical properties that protect
