Time in German Literature and Culture, 1900–2015

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Introduction, selection and editorial matter © Anne Fuchs and J. J. Long 2016 Individual chapters © Contributors 2016 All rights reserved. No reproduction, copy or transmission of this publication may be made without written permission. No portion of this publication may be reproduced, copied or transmitted save with written permission or in accordance with the provisions of the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988, or under the terms of any licence permitting limited copying issued by the Copyright Licensing Agency, Saffron House, 6–10 Kirby Street, London EC1N 8TS. Any person who does any unauthorized act in relation to this publication may be liable to criminal prosecution and civil claims for damages. The authors have asserted their rights to be identified as the authors of this work in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988. First published 2016 by PALGRAVE MACMILLAN Palgrave Macmillan in the UK is an imprint of Macmillan Publishers Limited, registered in England, company number 785998, of Houndmills, Basingstoke, Hampshire RG21 6XS. Palgrave Macmillan in the US is a division of St Martin’s Press LLC, 175 Fifth Avenue, New York, NY 10010. Palgrave Macmillan is the global academic imprint of the above companies and has companies and representatives throughout the world. Palgrave® and Macmillan® are registered trademarks in the United States, the United Kingdom, Europe and other countries. ISBN 978– 1– 137– 41186– 0 This book is printed on paper suitable for recycling and made from fully managed and sustained forest sources. Logging, pulping and manufacturing processes are expected to conform to the environmental regulations of the country of origin. A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library. A catalog record for this book is available from the Library of Congress.

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Contents

List of Figures vii Acknowledgements ix Notes on Contributors xii

Introduction: Faulty Clocks, Human Errors and the Management of Time in Modernity and Late Modernity 1 Anne Fuchs and J. J. Long Part I 1 Temporal Ambivalence: Acceleration, Attention and Lateness in Modernist Discourse 21 Anne Fuchs 2 How Long does the Present Last? Seven Approaches to a Fleeting Phenomenon 39 Aleida Assmann 3 Architecture in Transit: Three High- Tech Historicist Airports 54 Kathleen James- Chakraborty Part II 4 Epistemology, Poetics and Time in Modernist Short Prose around 1900 71 Dirk Göttsche 5 Observations on Time and Motion: Kafka’s Betrachtung and the Visual Arts around 1912 93 Elizabeth Boa 6 Icons of Speed – Icons of Crisis: Acceleration Effects in Weimar Culture 113 Matthias Uecker 7 Snapshot, Composite, Blur: Photography and Speed in the Weimar Republic 131 J. J. Long 8 Syncope, Pause, Caesura: Robert Musil and the Psychotechnics of Acceleration 154 Carolin Duttlinger

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Part III 9 ‘Good Work’: Speed, Slowness and Taking Care in Christian Petzold’s Barbara 173 Andrew J. Webber 10 Writing and Acceleration in the Aftermath of German Unification: Riding the ‘Information Rapids’ with Angela Krauß 189 Gillian Pye 11 The Temporality of Boredom in the Age of Acceleration: the Car Crash in Contemporary German Literature 204 Mary Cosgrove

Notes 218 Select Bibliography 254 Index 274

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Introduction: Faulty Clocks, Human Errors and the Management of Time in Modernity and Late Modernity Anne Fuchs and J. J. Long

The following volume arises from an international conference held at the University of Warwick on 7– 9 March 2013. Titled ‘Faster than Light? Cultural Connectivity and Temporality in the Age of Historical Acceleration’, this interdisciplinary gathering took place not too long after the startling announcement that a team of Italian particle physicists called OPERA had seemingly found particles travelling at a speed faster than light, a discovery – if corroborated – that would overturn the very foundations of Einstein’s theory of relativity, according to which nothing can travel faster than at the speed of light.1 The Italian researchers believed that they had discovered subatomic particles – called neutrinos – that had travelled the distance of 730 km from CERN, Europe’s particle- physics lab near Geneva, to the Gran Sasso lab in Italy at a speed that exceeded the speed of light by a fraction of 20 parts per million. The speed of light is 299,792,458 metres per second; they believed that the neutrinos were travelling at 299,798,454 metres per second. As Subir Sarkar, Head of Particle Theory at Oxford University, explained to The Guardian: ‘The constancy of the speed of light essentially underpins our understanding of space and time and causality, which is the fact that cause comes before effect.’2 Six months later the head of the Italian research team resigned when repeats of the test showed that the particles were travelling at the speed of light.3 The science journal Nature reported that OPERA team members had detected two possible sources of error:

The initial result suggested that the neutrinos were reaching the detector 60 nanoseconds faster than the speed of light would allow. Both potential errors would affect the neutrinos’ arrival time, as measured by OPERA’s master clock (…). The first is a faulty connection at the point at which the light from a fibre- optic cable brings a synchronizing Global Positioning System (GPS) signal into the master clock. The fault could have delayed the GPS signal, causing the master clock to run slow and thus causing the neutrinos’ travel time to appear shorter than it actually was.4

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The second possible error occurred when ‘tests of the timing system turned up a second, opposing effect: an oscillator within the master clock that keeps time between the arrivals of synchronization signals was running fast. That would have made the neutrinos’ travel time seem longer.’5 Clocks running too slow or too fast is not what we expect of particle physics. A further facet contributing to the publication of faulty test results may have to do with human hastiness in response to the pressure to produce revolutionary scientific findings where the investment of financial resources has been high: OPERA team members conceded that they published their results too soon without carrying out sufficient checks. This intriguing case, involving faulty clocks and human error, may, on the face of it, seem far removed from the concerns of this volume. But in fact, the multiple glitches of timing involved accentuate not merely the scientific but also the social dimension of time. The ability to perceive, manage and direct time appropriately, as the sociologist Norbert Elias argues, is a socially acquired skill and a complex synthesis that enables human actors to regulate their behaviour with reference to three interdependent temporal spheres: the natural environment, the social setting and their individual biographies.6 Elias, who was writing without reference to particle physics and before the massive impact of the digital era, emphasised the social dimension of human temporality. Unlike particle physics, which does not (normally) permeate our daily life, digital technologies have, in the mean- time, transformed the relationship between individuals, their worlds and their temporal horizons. The ever-tighter enmeshing of human worlds with digital media alters the very notion of experience: the ontological difference between lived and virtual experience is diminishing as the digital arena moves beyond its status as a purely simulated order. The advent of Web 2.0 with its built- in capacity for interactivity in real time led to the exponential growth of social media platforms such as Blogger, Twitter, Facebook and YouTube, all of which promised new forms of participation and online citizenship. But, as José van Dijck argues in her excellent study, whether this new culture of connectivity really delivers more citizenship is doubtful in the light of the rapid commodification of a ‘platformed sociality’ which manipulates and quantifies social categories, such as popularity, friendship, participation and citizenship.7 For example, on Facebook, the idea of friendship no longer involves social investment over a period of time but has been turned into a quantifiable commodity. Van Dijck rightly observes that users of these platforms are often unaware that they

produce a precious resource: connectivity. Even though the term ‘connectivity’ originated in technology, where it denotes computer transmis- sions, in the context of social media it quickly assumed the connotation of users accumulating social capital, while in fact this term increasingly referred to owners amassing economic capital.8

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The coding techniques behind these platforms are neither neutral nor innocent: they alter the very nature of our social experience in that they demand certain activities, such as ‘sharing’ or ‘following’.9 As van Dijck further notes, this culture of connectivity services neoliberal principles: ‘connectivity’, she writes, ‘derives from a continuous pressure – both from peers and from technologies – to expand through competition and gain power through strategic alliances’.10 One of the most profound transformations of our temporal experience in the digital era then is the pressure to be always live and connected. In his book The Culture of Speed John Tomlinson therefore diagnoses a new ‘culture of immediacy’ which is characterised by the shift from the ‘effortful speed’ of the age of mechanical acceleration to ‘an effortless mediated delivery’.11 The coming of immediacy thus suggests the closure of the gap between now and the future, here and there, by means of what Tomlinson aptly calls ‘scripts of instant delivery’ that render the very notion of departure seemingly redundant.12 Because the new culture of immediacy promotes instant access to goods, services and media, and the constant availability of social interaction (be it work- or leisure- related), it also erodes the expectation of temporal processing and of the duration of time. In the modern age of mechanical acceleration at the turn of the nineteenth century the dream of ever-greater speed was still bogged down by the reality of the relative slowness of the machine age, with its wear and tear of machines and infra- structures. Enda Duffy observes that modernity pursued a ‘speed politics’ that turned movement and speed into ‘qualities of capitalism’ as well as a genuinely modern desire.13

(A)s a desire clearly nurtured by capitalism, it [the desire for speed] may be the desire par excellence in Western culture that is fostered and tolerated in order to reconcile human actors to their lot as actors in a ‘dynamic’ capitalist economic milieu. Speed, intimately woven into a new paradigm of the modern subject’s nexus of desires, becomes the new opiate and the new (after)taste of movement as power.14

In spite of this ideological nexus between speed, power and capitalism, the speed fantasies of what Tomlinson terms the ‘mechanical modernity’ were still hampered by the relative slackness of the age of machine acceleration. In contrast, the new age of immediacy comes with the promise and the threat that temporal delays are a thing of the past: a click of the mouse is now sufficient to move vast amounts of capital or to create global audiences for local events. Of course this does not mean that this new culture of immediacy has really managed to overcome modernity’s perceived temporal inefficien- cies: these still show up in the slow delivery of goods, unplanned waiting periods and unwanted delays in service provision and travel. Broadband congestion, long airport security queues, automated answering loops of

Copyrighted material – 978–1– 137–41186–0 Copyrighted material – 978–1– 137–41186–0 4 Time in German Literature and Culture, 1900–2015 service providers, and the permanent traffic congestion in and around urban centres are everyday experiences in the twenty- first century. They show that the gap between departure and arrival remains an integral part of the human experience. However, the cultural script of instant delivery does make immediacy a new cultural value and a prized asset that arguably delegitimises slower forms of temporal processing, the value of memory and the idea of duration as a prerequisite of human experience. Before pursuing this further with reference to the ongoing debate on time in the digital era, it is worth dwelling on the salient features of the new culture of immediacy. Enabled by the World Wide Web as well as the neoliberal penetration of the economic and social spheres, this new culture of immediacy is characterised by the following features:

• It has eroded the clear demarcation line between work and home life or leisure. • It favours flexibility, continual innovation and short- term gains at the workplace above and beyond loyalty, stability and experience. • It comes with opportunities and challenges for established institutions, such as libraries, archives, academies which no longer control access to learning and knowledge. • It aids information rather than learning, the latter of which is a hermeneutic process across time. • It engenders the expectation of the real- time transmission of historical events on a global scale. • It has made screens and digital media so ubiquitous in our everyday environment that the gap between the simulacrum and reality has been virtually closed. • It has facilitated the shift away from the social- democratic vision of a consensus society towards the neoliberal shareholder society that favours short- term gains over long- term results and social contract. • It prefers transactions to relationships. • It enables a global youth culture within which technological gadgets and social media are indispensable modes of experience. • It fuels new social pathologies, such as cyberbullying and techno- addictions.

While the above list is of course not exhaustive, it accentuates the radical nature of the transformation of social life and human experience in a culture of immediacy that has created the right ecosystem for neoliberal capitalism. As Richard Sennett has shown, the success of social capitalism in the first half of the twentieth century resided not least in the management of ‘long- term, and incremental and above all predictable time’ which was administered, regulated and overseen by institutions and a bureaucracy that organised the citizens’ lives from cradle to grave.15 ‘Rationalised time’,

Copyrighted material – 978–1– 137–41186–0 Copyrighted material – 978–1– 137–41186–0 Anne Fuchs and J. J. Long 5 comments Sennett, ‘enabled people to think about their lives as narratives – narratives not so much of what will necessarily happen as of how things should happen.’16 The narrative expectation of what ought to happen requires precisely the type of temporal security that has been devalued in the culture of immediacy and in neoliberal society. According to Sennett, the institutional architecture that underpinned the social capitalism of old has been eroded by three factors: the casualisation of labour, the delayering of institutional relationships by flexible and fluid structures and the non- linear sequencing of tasks which turns colleagues into competitors as they compete in the production of the best result in the quickest time possible. Not surprisingly, then, this paradigm change from the social capitalism that subscribed to a linear temporal trajectory that integrated past, present and future by the ‘thread of narrative experience’17 towards a new ecol- ogy of liveness and continual digital connectivity is evaluated in opposing terms by different social commentators. Information optimists celebrate the liberating effects of this technologically enabled culture of real time connectivity because it brings new modes of participation. For example, in his discussion of the city in the twenty-first century, Scott McQuire points to the appearance of the ‘smart mob’ as a self- organising and self- directing urban multitude that makes use of precisely the same technologies that are usually employed by the state for surveillance purposes.18 Similarly, Carmen Leccardi discusses resistance to neoliberal corporate governance in the anti- globalisation movement, which cleverly exploits digital technologies as flexible and smart forms of self- organisation.19 Robert Hassan, too, emphasises the ability of ‘connected asynchronicities’ to ‘undermine and displace the time of the clock’ and as such modernity’s time regime.20 By fragmenting the linearity of time into ‘a billion different time contexts within the network’, Hassan argues, this new asynchronous time redeems human temporality:

What digital networks make possible is the conscious creation of temporal contexts and the freeing of the embedded times in humans, in nature and in society that form the timescapes that intersect our lives but that we have been unable to fully experience, appreciate, or understand because of the deadening implacability of clock time.21

At the other end of the spectrum, however, there is a pronounced vocabu- lary of crisis that includes terms such as Giddens’ ‘runaway world’, Eriksen’s ‘tyranny of the moment’, Castells’ ‘timeless time’, Bauman’s ‘liquid modernity’ or Virilio’s ‘dictatorship of speed’, to name but a few temporal catchphrases.22 Initial optimism that globalisation and the communica- tions revolution could overcome social inequality has evaporated. For Zygmunt Bauman, globalisation and the information revolution have not brought people together, but have further polarised the human condition:

Copyrighted material – 978–1– 137–41186–0 Copyrighted material – 978–1– 137–41186–0 6 Time in German Literature and Culture, 1900–2015 he diagnoses a breakdown of communication between increasingly ‘global extraterritorial elites’, on the one hand, and the ever-more localised rest, who make up ‘loose bunches of untied ends’.23 From Bauman’s perspective, the Information Age challenges not only established principles of democratic governance but also the very notion of time as a social function. Our ability to inhabit places as affective memoryscapes and sites of shared responsibility appears to be under threat. For the philosopher Byung- Chul Han, people in today’s world are bereft of duration and the notion of ‘the right time’ because they lack the ‘temporal gravitation’ which is indispensable for the experience of a meaningful present that is enclosed by the past and the future.24 Time, suggests Han, tumbles down on us like an unstoppable avalanche precisely because it is divested of anchorage and the possibility of closure.25 Network society has relinquished the possibility of experience and the condensation of time in favour of the timeless neutrality of the information that savagely annihilates memory.26 Time in the information age, contends Han, consists of a series of disconnected points that ‘buzz’ around without direction: discontinuous and unstruc- tured, this new temporal dissipation results in a lack of orientation rather than enhanced freedom.27 The reign of ‘ Punkt- Zeit’ (point time) hysterically demands the eradication of empty intervals by accelerating the sequence of disconnected events.28 While, as Han further argues, the notion of experience is a time- intensive concept requiring the fusion of the passage of time, duration and contemplation, information is a category lacking in temporal content or depth. For Byung- Chul Han the new culture of information has eliminated essential temporal modes of narrativisation which structure historical experience through transitions, thresholds and in- between spaces. Network time has also annihilated the ‘aura of distance’ by means of a totalising proximity and simultaneity. Similarly, the literary critic Hans Ulrich Gumbrecht argues that the linear historical consciousness that characterised modernity has been irretrievably replaced by the new chronotope of a broad and ultimately timeless present.29 As a point of convergence between a multitude of electronically mediated pasts and a threatening future, the present expands ever more into a time of intransitive simultaneity. Life in this ever-burgeoning present is thus stifled by simultaneities that expose us to directionless movement without future horizons. For Gumbrecht the information revolution has undermined the experience of ‘real presence’ by reducing our encounters with the world to the level of simulacra without any experiential imprints. As Aleida Assmann comments, for Gumbrecht the present is thus no longer a moment of transition but merely ‘the waiting room’ for the world- historical end of all time.30 Like Gumbrecht, the sociologist Hartmut Rosa too is worried that the acceleration of modernity has now reached the critical point at which social integration is no longer possible.31 In high modernity, Rosa argues, the technological acceleration that was achieved by more efficient modes of production,

Copyrighted material – 978–1– 137–41186–0 Copyrighted material – 978–1– 137–41186–0 Anne Fuchs and J. J. Long 7 faster transportation and communication networks and so on, also facilitated the acceleration of social change and, as such, continual social innovation. As past experiences began to lose their relevance more quickly, individuals expe- rienced the acceleration of their entire lives.32 For Rosa, modernity’s unstoppable tempo of rationalisation and differentiation has led to the condition of late modernity, as an arena where the latent pathologies of the modern time regime finally erupt: late modernity has now devoured the specifically modern horizon of expectation which propelled human beings towards the future in favour of a much more fragmented and contingent temporality that turns life into a series of short- term projects. And so it is that, ironically, acceleration gives rise to a new detemporalisation of history that collapses the epistemo- logical difference between past, present and future in favour of the directionless experience of ‘rasender Stillstand’ (stagnation at top- speed). Rosa further describes the contemporary detemporalisation of life in terms of a ‘static space of sequential and simultaneously unfolding stories’.33 Evidently, Rosa’s analysis of lived temporality as a condition for subjectivity is even more gloomy than Gumbrecht’s: he argues that while classical modernity’s notion of a rational subjectivity still incorporated elements of a romantic self that bridged the Cartesian gap between reason and feeling, body and soul, in late modernity human creativity has been entirely subju- gated to the systemic requirements of accelerated capitalism.34 In his view, human actors in the twenty-first century are reduced to building merely temporary identities from flexible elements that fragment subjectivity. It is evident from this brief account that the camp of optimists invests in the emancipatory potential of a global culture of immediacy, which is seen as bringing new forms of autonomy, agency and, generally, liberation from the shackles of modernity’s time regime. In sharp contrast, the pessimists’ camp deplores the erosion of the very concept of experience, the loss of historical memory, and a new digital serfdom combined with a dictatorship of speed. Against the backdrop of this highly polarised debate, we argue that a major omission from dominant narratives on time in modernity and in the digital era is the question of culture. Both ecstatic cyber- optimism and resigned techno- pessimism are, at bottom, underpinned by a tacit but insist- ent technological determinism. This in turn leads to accounts of modern temporality that are excessively totalising either in their embrace or in their repudiation of late modernity’s time regime, and extreme in their positing of a radical rupture between the time regimes of classical and late modernity. While the transformation of the public and private sphere in the digital era is undeniable, we must be mindful of the fact that temporality remains an embodied and socially embedded mode of experience that is not only shaped by technology but also by complex cultural and social factors. In order to approach the experience of our times afresh, we need to tie the debate on the network society back to a broader cultural analysis of how

Copyrighted material – 978–1– 137–41186–0 Copyrighted material – 978–1– 137–41186–0 8 Time in German Literature and Culture, 1900–2015 we constitute and represent temporally modulated environments. Emily Keightley rightly observes:

Mediated time is not only the product of media technologies, it is rela- tional, situated and bound up in the socio- political (both macro and micro) contexts in which media are used. What is needed is a revaluation of mediated time that attends to the interactions between the times of technologies, texts and social contexts in order to move beyond a one- dimensional characterisation in which speed and immediacy monopolise accounts of how time is encountered and lived.35

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This volume sets out to investigate cultural responses to the transformation of time at two temporal nodes: the period from 1900 to the 1930s, and the period since the invention of the World Wide Web, the fall of the Berlin Wall and global ascent of (neoliberal) capitalism. By examining the complexities of the discourse of time in classical and late modernity, our volume aims to complicate the narrative, sketched above, of the transformation of time in modernity and in the present. The contributions to this volume accentuate the complexity of the modern discourse of time, which has produced a highly differentiated matrix of time/space. As Peter Osborne has shown in his brilliant study, the politics of time in modernity totalises history by linking past, present and future ‘within the dynamic and eccentric unity of a single historical view’.36 But, as he further demonstrates, the modern valorisation of the new as a product of a constantly changing present remains open to competing articulations: ‘By producing the old as remorselessly as it produces the new, it provokes forms of traditionalism, the temporal logic of which is quite different from that of tradition as conven- tionally conceived.’37 As the present volume shows, however, these competing articulations of the present exceed by far the production of various kinds of traditionalism. Through close readings of salient literary and visual artefacts of twentieth- century German culture, the authors address the multifarious ways in which thinkers, architects, writers, photographers and painters have grappled with and responded to questions of speed and acceleration, in part embracing the heightened pace of urban modernity in the West, in part seeking to develop countercultural alternatives, and in part seeking to mediate between these two. Part I of this book adumbrates many of the core theoretical and thematic concerns that animate the volume as a whole. Anne Fuchs’s account of the cultural discourse of modernism outlines the relationship between acceleration, attention and lateness. Lateness, Fuchs observes, is produced by

Copyrighted material – 978–1– 137–41186–0 Copyrighted material – 978–1– 137–41186–0 Anne Fuchs and J. J. Long 9 the synchronising logic of accelerating modernity itself: once progress is established as the norm, anything that does not ‘keep up’ is deemed to be backward. Her essay identifies four key conceptions of lateness in German culture in the late nineteenth and early twentieth centuries. The first is a moral interpretation of lateness as both socio- psychological stigma and a mode of resistance to modernity’s valorisation of the new. She traces this aspect of lateness in the work of Friedrich Nietzsche and one of his best- known admirers, Thomas Mann. Buddenbrooks shows Mann writing very much in Nietzschean mode, with lateness a clear sign of cultural exhaustion. But in Fuchs’s reading of Der Zauberberg (The Magic Mountain), a dia- lectical moment in Mann’s exploration of lateness emerges, poised between debilitating inaction on the one hand, and, on the other, resistance to the nationalist economic competition that characterises the flatland below. The second view of lateness is psychic: lateness emerges as a distinctively modern condition in the work of sociologist Georg Simmel, as well as that of the writers Franz Kafka and Robert Walser. For Simmel, punctuality is the key to the smooth functioning of modern life, with the consequence that lateness possesses the potential to be highly disruptive. The paradox is that the sensory overload characteristic of urban modernity produces lateness by causing failures of attention. Modernity thus harbours within itself the omnipresent threat of lateness; social acceleration is bought at the price of the perpetual risk of malfunction. In Kafka’s first novel, Der Verschollene (The Man Who Disappeared, better known as Amerika), there is a constant problem of synchronisation, as the protagonist Karl Rossmann finds it impossible to calibrate his own subjective time either to the strictly rationalised time regime advocated by his uncle, or to a more obscure temporality that seems to govern the key interactions of Rossmann’s American experience. Kafka extends this notion further in Der Proceß (The Trial), whose protagonist Josef K. is perpetually late because of repeated lapses of attention caused by an inability to align his personal time regime with the unstated timekeeping expectations of the court. For Simmel and Kafka, lateness indicates a kind of temporal pathology produced at the intersection of internal and external time regimes. But Fuchs also traces a third, productive aspect of lateness in the work of the Swiss author Robert Walser. In Walser’s work the poet’s perambulations and willingness to be distracted are far from being a frivolous waste of time; on the contrary, they produce a state of desynchronisation that enables the poetic act. Distraction is in fact a form of attention that is the prerequisite of creativity. Finally, in her reading of Freudian psychoanalysis, Fuchs shows that lateness – in the sense of the belated return to individual and collective consciousness of repressed acts – is a driver of cultural change, producing connectivity between the past and present. In all cases, lateness represents a resistance to the totalising logic of acceleration, and a way of carving out alternative temporalities.

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Aleida Assmann’s chapter, ‘How Long Does The Present Last?’, takes us on a journey from archaic conceptions of time to the idle viewing of YouTube videos in the internet age. Starting from the perspective of neuroscience and psychotherapy, Assmann argues that there is a weight of evidence to suggest that from the perspectives of human perception and of interpersonal encounters, the shortest meaningful time unit is between two and five seconds. She notes that an archaic and profoundly culturally encoded conception of time- as- action continues to structure everyday life in so- called advanced societies, and goes on to explore various cultural techniques for prolonging the present moment. The first is the search, particularly in the stream- of- consciousness prose of high modernism, for moments of temporal plenitude and epiphany, which is linked to an ethical concern to rescue such moments from the largely unthinking routine of modern life. The second is the notion of aesthetically structured time, which demands an attitude of inactivity that interrupts the normal sequence of actions and isolates a self- contained temporality with a distinct beginning, middle and end. Linked to this is the third technique, which returns to a central theme of Anne Fuchs’s chapter, namely willed attention. One strategy for extending the present moment is to engage in prolonged contemplation – though Assmann also sounds a cautionary note here: on the internet, video- clips of more than five minutes’ duration are less likely to be viewed, suggesting that technology is restricting the duration of our present moment to five minutes. Assmann’s fourth cultural technique for extending the present lies in the possibility of constructing a historically extended present by adopting a past with which the present has strong affinities. It is created by performative acts of choos- ing, claiming and proclaiming contemporaneity with a former historical period and attesting to perennial emotional, mental, political or spiritual ties. Assmann concludes with a critique of Gumbrecht’s claim that the present is so full of pasts that future perspectives are occluded and that the past is a musealised hodge- podge, which precludes any kind of strong contemporaneity with past eras. Because such alliances are built not on total recall but on highly selective acts of forgetting and recovery, Gumbrecht argues, the possibility of a total availability of all pasts is progressively eroding the past’s meaning and relevance. Assmann argues that Gumbrecht’s dystopian argument overlooks the permanent trashing and forgetting that accom- panies our daily life on the one hand, and underestimates the selection mechanisms of cultural memory on the other. Keeping something present, she notes, still requires a considerable quantum of human attention, physi- cal energy and cultural strategies. Kathleen James- Chakraborty looks at questions of speed, modernity, and architectural vision in a discussion of three high- tech airports. Airports are, of course, essential components of global high- speed travel. They need to bring into alignment the rhythm of take- offs and landings with the speed of vast and growing numbers of passengers who pass through the building.

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This is all dependent on ever- faster information flows. But one of James- Chakraborty’s central points is that the cultural processing of information is much slower than we might assume, and is strongly influenced by existing visions of the future, which demonstrate surprising stability over extended time- periods. Despite the fact that communication across vast geographical distances has become instantaneous, making it easy for architects to oversee building projects on the other side of the globe, this has not stimulated new architectural solutions or theories. Indeed, high- tech design, pioneered half a century ago, continues to function as a symbol of the new. By showing that high- tech is itself a kind of radicalised modernism, James- Chakraborty suggests that what constitutes the cutting edge in architecture can trace its line- age to the architectural celebration of machine speed in interwar Germany. Part II of this book offers a series of historical perspectives on questions of acceleration and slowness in German culture. Dirk Göttsche’s chapter on modernist short prose around 1900 argues that in its late- realist, symbolist, and expressionist modes, such writing responded to the accelerating pace of modernity in a highly differentiated fashion. As a form that could be con- sumed within minutes, short prose (which is generally shorter than a conventional short story) was seen as the most adequate response to a moment of cultural crisis in which time had become notoriously short and patience with long, leisurely novels had worn thin.38 In his panoramic account of the genre, Göttsche argues that short prose mediated between a series of oppositions. The notion of the living moment (Augenblick), which was captured in the short prose piece, was itself an ambiguous entity, poised between the celebration of the fleeting instant in a process of perpetual transition, and an ecstatic arrest of this transition in the form of epiphany. Short prose thus replicated and collapsed the accelerating logic of modernity. In the theory of short prose, a further set of oppositions emerges. Firstly, the extreme concentration of the artefact itself is contrasted with the extended time required for its adequate reception – the problem, once again, of attention. Secondly, while the notion of the ‘telegram style of the soul’ (a coinage of the Austrian miniaturist Peter Altenberg) aligns literary language with the newest commu- nications technologies of the day, it also expresses a wider cultural concern with human perception and sensation. Telegrams from the soul address, in paradoxical form, the need for metaphysics in a post- metaphysical world. Thirdly, Göttsche notes that short prose, as the quintessential modern form, tended, in the period around 1900, to explore the speed of modernity either through representations of premodern nature, or through quasi- ekphrastic transformations of visual (that is, static) artefacts, ekphrasis being the evocation in words of works of visual or plastic art. What emerges from Göttsche’s study is that short prose, while ostensibly fully aligned at a formal level with the logic of acceleration, is in fact a vehicle for a complex and layered exploration of temporality that ultimately resists rather than embraces the temporal rationalisation and dynamics of modernity.

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In her richly contextualised reading of the early prose pieces that Kafka published as Betrachtung (Observation/Contemplation, 1912), Elizabeth Boa argues that around 1900, the discourse of time involved numerous competing responses to the perceived acceleration of historical change, the shrinking of geographical distance, and a sense of the relativity of temporal experience. Boa makes the crucial point that the experience of social acceleration now has the effect of relativistically slowing down the time of past epochs, and that the steam railway and telegraphy, which produced a dramatic shrinkage of space in the nineteenth century, now look like quaintly outmoded emblems of a slower time. The relativity of time is one of Boa’s central conceptual concerns, and she maps it onto three others. The first of these is the ambivalent response to modernity, with innovation being welcomed as progress on the one hand, but leading to mourning for what is passing on the other (and sometimes a blend of both). The second is the body. Even if it is impossible to posit a pre- cultural notion of bodily immediacy, it remains the case that our experience of speed is a bodily experience, determined in large measure by whether we are walking, riding a horse, travelling on a tram, or sitting in a moving train. Bodily experience is thus relative, and does not follow clock time. But time also etches itself visibly on the surface of the body. Finally, Boa notes the ‘Gleichzeitigkeit des Ungleichzeitigen’, the contemporaneity of the non- contemporaneous, or the simultaneous presence, within a given society, of phenomena that seem to belong to different temporalities or periods. In her analysis of Betrachtung, Boa explores these issues not just from a thematic point of view, but by means of a close narratological analysis of the spatio- temporal disjunctions that characterise Kafka’s strange world. Turning her attention to Kafka’s later works ‘Ein Hungerkünstler’ (‘A Hunger Artist’) and ‘Erstes Leid’ (‘Early Sorrow’), she shows that art and performance can be mobilised to arrest or thwart the onward movement of time, even as they remain dependent on it for their possibility. Matthias Uecker’s chapter on the discourse of Tempo and acceleration in the Weimar Republic takes examples from Weimar cinema (Berlin. Symphonie der Großstadt; Kuhle Wampe), photomontage (Marianne Brandt, Umbo), journalism (Egon Erwin Kisch, Kurt Tucholsky, Friedrich Sieburg, and the news magazine Tempo), and sociology (Jahoda, Lazarsfeld), in order to show how representations of speed routinely conveyed the experience of fascination and exhilaration. The Weimar Republic’s iconic images of urban speed frequently not only represented, but also sought to reproduce or even intensify, in an act of formal mimesis, the experience of speed. And yet, as Uecker shows, even a society as addicted to speed as that of Weimar was not immune to anxiety about acceleration, and many of these examples also articulated a deep- seated unease over the social and cultural effects of accelerated modernity (or capitalism). In so doing, they exposed the social pressures that accompanied acceleration. At the same time, Uecker argues,

Copyrighted material – 978–1– 137–41186–0 Copyrighted material – 978–1– 137–41186–0 Anne Fuchs and J. J. Long 13 representations of mass unemployment in the closing years of the Weimar Republic are characterised by the absence of speed, and demonstrate the dan- gers of exclusion from societal acceleration. The ambivalence at the heart of the Weimar discourse on speed, Uecker contends, was connected to a range of contemporary discourses attempting to conceptualise the experience of modernity in Weimar Germany. Chief amongst them were the discourses of crisis and generational conflict. Taking issue with Hartmut Rosa’s attempt to place acceleration and speed at the centre of an analysis of modernity, Uecker argues, like other contributors to this volume, that rather than unquestioningly privileging phenomena of speed, cultural analysis needs to embed them in a wider discursive context. As we will see in the chapters by Assmann and Fuchs, the concept of attention is central to our understanding of cultural responses to social acceleration. The pioneering work of Jonathan Crary has already demon- strated the centrality of the problem of attention in philosophy, psychology, and the practice of visual art in the late nineteenth century. He argues that the means of perception was revolutionised, a revolution that united two interrelated phenomena. The first is the accelerated development of new technologies of perception – photography, cinema, the phonograph –, which succeeded each other and transformed themselves with the deliri- ous rapidity characteristic of capitalist modernisation more generally. The second is the ‘emergence of a social, urban, psychic and industrial field increasingly saturated with sensory input’, requiring of the subject increased attentiveness (for example within the industrial workplace or on the city street) while producing myriad forms of inattentiveness (for example through the boredom induced by repeated actions, or the arresting nature of urban spectacle).39 Crary’s study ends in 1900, after which, he argues, ‘malleable and tractable visual space would become subject to endless forms of external restructuring, manipulation, and numbing standardiza- tion throughout the twentieth century’.40 But as the chapters by Long and Duttlinger suggest, this manipulation was by no means a unitary phenomenon, nor was it solely the preserve of advertisers and applied psychologists, but formed a major field of investigation for writers and visual artists well into the twentieth century. Taking as his starting point the Weimar Republic’s self- image as a high- speed society, Long addresses some of the ways in which photography – the archetypal modern visual medium – sought to capture, within the still image, the phenomenon of accelerated motion. He identifies a paradox in the history of photography: the more that the technology and process of photography is characterised by high speed (in terms of shutter speeds, film- stock sensitivity, and methods of dissemination), the more it is able to freeze shorter and shorter instants of time. Photography’s ability to capture high- speed motion is thus predicated on its ability to produce stasis. Weimar responses to this paradox form the main part of Long’s chapter,

Copyrighted material – 978–1– 137–41186–0 Copyrighted material – 978–1– 137–41186–0 14 Time in German Literature and Culture, 1900–2015 which focusses on three photographic techniques: the snapshot, the blur and the composite. While the snapshot reinscribes the above paradox, the blur in Paul Schuitema’s Turning Gramophone seems to encode, within its surface, multiple, incompatible temporalities. Furthermore, it dematerialises the object world, and fills it with forces and intensities that participate in the logics of spectacle and commodity fetishism. György Kepes’s composite image of Berlin by night, on the other hand, represents artificial light sources that dematerialised the built environment and turned the urban night into a phantasmic dreamworld characteristic of capitalism. Both images, however, are complicated by the way in which they figure attention: the formal aspects of the images lead to a highly mobile form of attention in which distraction is both produced and contained by the structure of the picture surface. The result is a highly unstable viewer position that undermines the attention– distraction binary that informs the mid- century cultural criticism of Walter Benjamin, Theodor Adorno and Siegfried Kracauer. One of the ways in which attention was harnessed to the needs of increasingly rationalised modes of production was psychotechnics. As Carolin Duttlinger shows in her chapter, psychotechnics was an enduring concern of the Austrian novelist Robert Musil. Psychotechnics was a branch of applied psychology that sought to gauge the aptitude of individuals for specific tasks, while also measuring impediments to efficient working such as fatigue. Duttlinger frames Musil’s accounts of psychotechnics within a broader consideration of his thinking on speed, perception and language. In his essayistic work, Musil notes that the human body and the natural world remain the source of the prevalent metaphors for speed even in the machine age – a kind of linguistic ‘Ungleichzeitigkeit’. Musil also notes that the experience of speed is paradoxically annulled by modern transportation, and it is only when interruptions and delays are registered by the body (when it needs to propel itself again) or the psyche (when transitional moments in a journey are sensed), that speed is fully sensed. The experience of speed was not an anthropological constant for Musil, but was, rather, contingent on cultural practices and patterns of behaviour that had become habitual. From this point of view, modernity represented a significant challenge to the human psyche and sensorium, and in an essay on psychotechnics, Musil outlines the applicability of the psychotechnical training of attention and responsiveness to all areas of military and civilian life, as a way of addressing precisely this challenge. Duttlinger goes on to show, though, that the the- matisation of speed perception and psychotechnics in Musil’s fictional work is highly ambivalent. She identifies the moments of stasis and extended contemplation that, paradoxically, enable the experience of prevailing speed, while also harbouring within themselves the threat to the subject’s bodily integrity that can ensue from a lack of attentiveness. Part III turns to representations of acceleration and slowness in contemporary culture. Andrew Webber’s chapter is devoted to Christian Petzold’s

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2012 film Barbara. Set in the German Democratic Republic in 1980, the film dramatises ‘Ungleichzeitigkeit’ in its foregrounding of the uneven speeds of East and West Germany (symbolised by the Trabant and the Mercedes, respectively), and, implicitly, of the eponymous character’s East Berlin home and the province to which she has been banished. Webber shows that the three aspects of filmic speed – the profilmic events that transpire before the camera, the motion of the camera, and the pace and rhythm of editing – are all slowed down in Barbara. The result is a film that foregrounds, at the levels of both plot and formal disposition, a deliberate, attentive slowness, which manifests itself most conspicuously in the way in which the charac- ters inhabit bodily the chronotope or time- space of the film: the movement and stasis of bodies in space are repeatedly foregrounded as the point at which speed and slowness are most tellingly registered. This slowness, furthermore, is ethical as well as aesthetic: Webber argues that Barbara repeatedly foregrounds the need to make time in order to take care: in medical terms, in the act of love, in routines of self- care, and in the acts of looking and interpretation. And while the 1980s GDR setting may be removed from the time of viewing, it still, as Webber notes, participates in the conditions of the present, and opens up a particular perspective on our own times. The problem of ethics in the information age is a salient concern in Gillian Pye’s reading of the work of contemporary writer Angela Krauß. Krauß spent her early years in the GDR, and her work responds to the specific sense of historical acceleration attendant on the collapse of the Berlin Wall, as well as to more pervasive experiences of rapidity brought about by high- speed information networks and the forms of economic and social life to which they give rise. Pye argues that literature itself is a ‘slow’ medium: a quarter of a century after the events unfolded, writers are still returning to the events of 1989. This represents a form of lateness akin to the Freudian account of belatedness addressed in Anne Fuchs’s chapter in this volume. For Pye, such delays are not merely contingent products of the publishing industry, but are essential for processes of creative reflection. Furthermore, she notes that personal narratives do not develop at the same pace as historical change, and that their specific temporality may cut across or run counter to ‘official’ historical narratives. Human time is itself poised between the two extremes of an infinitesimally slow geological time and the high- speed time of digital data- processing. Finding a time and place for the self, and understanding the impact of acceleration (of social life, history and information flows) on human relationships are among Krauß’s main themes. Her concerns are thus profoundly ethical in their search for kinds of collectivity, for literary forms that are commensurate with the digital age but allow space for empathy and reflection, for new approaches to agency and to human– non- human interactions. As in Petzold’s Barbara, ethics turns out to demand slowness, because any information gathered from the environment is ethically rel- evant only insofar as it helps position the self in relation to the non- self,

Copyrighted material – 978–1– 137–41186–0 Copyrighted material – 978–1– 137–41186–0 16 Time in German Literature and Culture, 1900–2015 necessitating a resynchronisation between the speed of logical reasoning and the time required for empathic engagement with the other. The volume closes with Mary Cosgrove’s chapter, which explores slowness in contemporary culture by offering, first of all, a historicised account of boredom. As an ambivalent category, boredom seems, on the one hand, to testify to the dominant role of acceleration as a determinant of experience. But on the other hand, boredom can manifest itself as an oppositional mode, deliberately wasteful and unheeding of modernity’s privileging of the vita activa. Cosgrove argues that boredom collapses past and future into an amorphous, empty present. Such desynchronisation exposes the conventional co- ordinates of modernity as abstract constructs. By refusing the dominant temporal orientation of modernity towards an imminent but ever- receding future, boredom can cast a critical, cynical view on the present in ways that can make visible its dystopian moment. Cosgrove illustrates this point with reference to two contemporary novels: Clemens Meyer’s Als wir träumten (When We Were Dreaming) and Karen Duve’s Taxi. Both of these novels raise the spectre of present- day ennui and nihilism. The main character in Taxi, Alex, engages in overwhelmingly negative relationships, and it is only a highly improbable car accident that catapults her out of nihilistic boredom and opens up the perspective of an unknown future. Meyer’s Als wir träumten is more extreme again. It, too, ends with a car crash, but one that does not open onto a new future, but symbolises death and the disintegration of friendship. The crash cements the pervasive sense of historical nihilism and social disenfranchisement. Wolfgang Herrndorf’s novel Tschick, on the other hand, represents a more positive evaluation of boredom. Cosgrove argues that in Tschick, it is only in the premodern space of profound boredom, which exists beyond the time regimes of modernity, that authentic relationships can be forged. Boredom, then, ultimately reso- nates with nostalgic, and at times euphoric, sentimentality. Two fundamental conclusions emerge from the chapters in this volume. The first is that modern time needs to be understood as a highly complex, layered phenomenon. To understand it adequately, attention needs to be paid to cultural models of time developed in narrative, dramatic, and visual artefacts; to the experiential dimensions of time, including bodily experience, subjective or psychological time, and the temporality of aesthetic experience; to the ethics of time in an age of acceleration; to the alternative temporalities that emerge in modernity; to competing valorisations of different time regimes; and to the truly meaningful persistence of the old amid the new. The second conclusion is that this complexity is heightened rather than elided in the digital era. Indeed, the essays in this book suggest that the more that social life is governed by acceleration, the more pronounced becomes the cultural engagement with the values of slow time, still frames, boredom, empathy.

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The complexity of modern time, which emerges strongly from all contributions to this volume, undermines the type of monolithic reading pro- posed by Rosa, Han or Gumbrecht. And it does so not in a spirit of last- ditch romantic defiance of an irresistible logic of acceleration. Rather, it takes seriously the possibility of carving out, through and within culture, temporal alternatives of an ethical and micro- political kind, which challenge the seemingly inexorable imperative to be always connected and always live.

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Index

Abramovic, Marina, 48 anti-globalisation, 5 abstraction, 16, 85, 86, 108, 129, 157, anti-Semitism, 35 169, 184, 208, 240 n.50, 241 n.6, anxiety, 12, 35, 83, 84, 94, 104, 123, 215 243 n.20 Arabian Nights, 90 in visual arts, 55, 59, 75, 80, 96, 98–9, architecture, 10–11, 54–68, 75, 138 105, 106, 111, 123 archive, 48, 52, 77 accidents, 90, 91, 136, 140 Aristotle, 47 motor, 16, 162–3, 169, 178 nn.204–6, Arnheim, Rudolf, 145, 239 n.49 209–12, 214–16, 217, 243 n.22, 249 arrhythmia, 163 n.5, 250 n.8, 251 n.25 Assmann, Aleida, 6, 10, 13 Adamson, Henry, 135 Assmann, Jan, 36, 222 n.43 Adenauer, Konrad, 50 asynchronicity, 5, 164 Adorno, Theodor W., 14, 90, 152, 214 athletics, 132 aerial bombing, 57 attention, 8, 9, 10, 11, 13–14, 16, 21, 22, aeroplanes, 54, 55–6, 62, 67, 68, 89, 97, 29, 30, 31–2, 22, 42, 45–9, 52, 53, 122, 123, 136, 146, 158, 197, 201 111, 114, 122, 137, 140, 144–6, 151, aestheticism, 74, 82 152–3, 154, 156, 161, 162, 165–7, affect, 6, 42, 43 169, 183, 188, 194, 202, 215, 221 agency, 7, 15, 24, 143, 176, 181, 194–5, n.32, 222 n.41, 224 n.23, 239 n.46, 202, 203, 205, 206, 210, 211, 248 341 n.72, 246 n.33 n.25, 249 n.37 attentiveness, 13, 14, 15, 30, 33, 77, 81, air travel see aeroplanes 105, 108, 167, 183, 185–6, 224 n.1 airports, 3, 10, 54–5, 59–68, 204, 226 Auerbach, Berthold, 90 n.27, 227 n.37 Augenblick, see moment Akin, Fatih, 251 n.25 Aulenti, Gae, 58 alienation, 82, 90, 95, 101, 108, 190, auteurism, 173, 244 n.2 207, 209, 210, 213 authenticity, 14, 32, 204, 213, 216–17 Altenberg, Peter, 11, 73, 76, 81–3, 91–2, automobile, 16, 54, 55, 56, 57, 64, 68, 229 n.49 75, 84, 85, 95–6, 97, 99, 109, 111, ‘Selbstbiographie’ (‘Autobiography’), 122, 123, 126, 136–7, 146, 152, 156, 73–5, 76 157, 158, 162–3, 173, 174, 176, Texte auf Ansichtskarten (‘Texts on 178–9, 204–6, 209–10, 212, 214–15, picture postcards’), 83 216–17, 244 n.2, 249 n.5, 251 n.25 ‘Wie ein Bild’ (‘Like a picture’), 77–8 autonomy, 7, 32, 36, 91, 107, 119, 143 Wie ich es sehe (‘As I see it’); 74, 76 America, 2, 28, 29, 125, 126, 148, 163, Bachmann, Ingeborg 221 n.24, 249 n.5 ‘Probleme, Probleme’ (‘Problems, Americanisation, 125–6, 242 n.15 problems’), 251 n.24 Amichai, Yehuda, 44 Balázs, Béla, 167 Anders, Günter, 134 Balla, Giacomo, 96, 104, 111 animal, 48, 95–6, 97, 99, 104, 106, 112, Ballard, J. G., 204–5, 211, 250 n.8 157, 165 Banham, Reyner, 58, 59, 67 anomie, 118, 217 Barad, Karen, 195, 199, 202, 203, anthropomorphism, 167 248 n.25

274

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Bartel, Heike, 211, 251 n.27 Bragaglia, Anton Giulio, 140–2, 143 Barthes, Roland, 134, 137 Bragaglia, Arturo, 140–2, 143 Baudelaire, Charles, 27, 41, 73, 74 Brandt, Marianne, 12, 115, 119, 122 Baudrillard, Jean, 209, 214 broadband, 2 Bauer, Felice, 106, 108, 233 n.45 Broch, Hermann, 109, 113, 119, 122 Baum, Oskar, 87 Brumwell, Su, 58 Bauman, Zygmunt, 5–6, 249 n.2 Brutalism, 61 Baumeister, Willi, 138 Büchner, Georg, 61 Bayer, Herbert, 146 Der hessische Landbote (The Hessian Bazin, André, 134 Courier), 50 Becher, Johannes R., 87 Bucholtz, Ferdinand, 136, 137 Beckman, Karen, 205, 249 n.4, 250 n.8 Buddhism, 222 n.45 Belin, Edouard, 134 Burchartz, Max, 138 Benjamin, Walter, 14, 46, 50, 72, 73, 77, bureaucracy, 4, 30 123–4, 126, 135, 136, 152, 181 Berg, Alban, 83 Cairati, Gerolamo, 79, 80 Bergman, Ingmar, 181 calendar, 21, 81 Bergson, Henri, 141, 220 n.18, 248 n.23 capital, social, 2 Berlin Wall, 8, 15, 60, 68, 189, 210, 211 capitalism, 3–5, 7, 8, 12, 14, 21, 37, 60, Berlin. Symphonie einer Großstadt 83, 84, 94, 121, 122, 128, 175, 190, (Ruttmann), 12, 122, 132 191, 193, 203, 206, 207, 209, 214, Bible, the, 30, 44, 107 251 n.25 bicycle, 33, 120–2, 125, 173, 178 car crash see accidents, motor Bienert, Michael, 113, 114 Castells, Manuel, 5, 67 Bierbaum, Otto Julius, 81 Castre, Edouard, 86 Erlebte Gedichte, 79 casualisation of labour, 5 Binet, Alfred, 31 causality, 1, 118, 155, 195, 199, 200, biography, 2, 21, 118, 206, 210 201, 202, 203 blasé attitude, 27–8 censorship, 124 Blauer Reiter, Der, 93, 96, 97, 98 Centre Pompidou, 55, 58, 63 Blob Architecture, 55 Certeau, Michel de, 181 Bloch, Ernst, 232 n.21, 247 n.5 Cheeseman, Wendy, 58 Blossfeldt, Karl, 136 chronology, 22, 26, 40, 121, 208 Boa, Elizabeth, 12 chronophotography, 43, 141 Boccioni, Umberto, 95–6, 102, 104, 105, chronotope, 6, 15, 47–8, 49, 52, 90, 109, 232 n.27 91, 175 body, 7, 12, 14, 48, 95, 96, 101, 102, cinema, 12, 13, 47, 106, 107, 108, 109–10, 111–12, 132, 141, 156–7, 122–4, 149, 150, 153, 173–87, 205, 163, 173, 179, 181–2, 183, 184–5, 249 n.5 187, 194, 204, 209, 211 cinematography, 141, 175, 178, body culture, 103 185, 187 Böhmer, Otto A., 249 n.29 cities, 4, 5, 8, 9, 12, 13, 14, 27–9, 32, Bohr, Nils, 195 57, 59–62, 65, 67, 72, 75, 77, 78, Böll, Heinrich, 49–50, 51 85, 86, 87, 89, 90, 95, 98–9, 101–2, boredom, 13, 16, 44, 81, 204, 206–16, 107–8, 111, 114, 123, 126, 132, 146, 250 n.16, 151 n.24, 252 n.38 148–50, 151–2, 154–5, 157, 162–5, Borscheid, Peter, 132 169, 175–6, 229 n.49 Boss, Matthew, 213 class, 128–9, 152, 204, 211, 212, 213 Bourdieu, Pierre, 179 clocks, 1–2, 21, 26, 28, 40, 41, 110, 151, Boym, Svetlana, 39 179, 181, 182, 213

Copyrighted material – 978–1– 137–41186–0 Copyrighted material – 978–1– 137–41186–0 276 Index closure, 6, 47 Deconstructivism, 55 Cold War, 174, 183, 210 defamiliarisation, 46, 76, 155, 162 Coleridge, Samuel Taylor, 224 n.23 degeneracy; degeneration, 23–5, 155 collage, 88, 119 Delacroix, Eugène, 67 collectivity, 9,15, 35, 48, 53, 96, 100, delay, 1, 2, 14, 15, 34, 162 121, 128, 155, 160, 166, 168, Delius, F. C., 190 169, 173, 174, 193, 206, 208, 210, dematerialisation, 14, 141–3, 149, 150, 235 n.26 151–2, 203 colonialism, 61, 88, 151 Derrida, Jacques, 55, 175 colour, 42, 55, 76, 77, 80, 96, 99, 101, desire, 3, 37, 108, 111, 125, 135, 144, 105, 106, 111, 145, 179, 245 n.18 193, 207, 217, 250 n.8 commerce, 107, 109 desynchronisation, 9, 16, 23, 25, 28, 32–3, commodity, 2, 107 36, 37, 202, 206, 208, 210–11, 213 commodity fetishism, 14, 143–4, 145 detemporalisation, 7, 211 communication, 5, 6, 7, 11, 28, 37, 42, dialectic, temporal, 9, 72, 73, 84, 167–8, 54, 75, 83, 88, 90, 98, 110, 132, 240 n.54 158, 159, 160, 161, 189, 190, 196, disenfranchisement, 16, 206, 216 204, 208, 210, 215 distraction, 9, 14, 28–30, 31–2, 145–6, communism, 175, 189, 193 152–3 concentration, 48, 159, 162, 166–7 Döblin, Alfred, 132 connectivity, 1, 2–3, 5, 9, 33, 36 Duffy, Enda, 3, 37, 177, 205 Constructivism, Soviet, 55 Durand, Régis, 135 contemplation, 6, 10, 14, 43, 49, 136, duration, 2, 4, 6, 10, 27, 40–1, 42–3, 44, 152–3, 161, 174, 209 49, 52, 123, 135–6, 138, 248 n.23 contemporaneity, 10, 49–50, 51, 52, 174 Durkheim, Emile, 212, 252 n.37 contingency, 129, 194, 210 Duttlinger, Carolin, 13, 14, 241 n.72 counterculture, 8, 72, 87, 94 Duve, Karen countryside, 27, 95, 96, 100, 101–2, 105, Taxi, 16, 209, 210–12, 216–17 107, 157, 214, 215 dystopia, 10, 16, 51, 52, 83, 87, 89, Crary, Jonathan, 13, 31, 35, 111, 207, 217 239 n.46 creatureliness, 209, 215 ecstasy, 7, 11, 48, 72, 73, 76, 82, 90, 94, crisis, 5, 11, 13, 26, 71, 73, 76, 87, 114, 102, 250 n.8 116, 118, 120, 128, 129–30, 166, editing, 15, 132, 179, 180–1, 186, 206, 212, 213, 251 n.24 187, 190 culture industry, 120 efficiency, 31, 84, 159, 161, 163, 165 cutting see editing Ehrenstein, Alfred, 87 cycling see bicycle Einstein, Albert, 1, 84, 97–8, 149 Eisler, Hanns, 121 dandyism, 25, 109, 216 ekphrasis, 11, 80, 86, 184 danger, 13, 29, 32, 96, 101, 137–8, 150, electricity, 143, 149, 152 157, 165, 169 electrification, 148 Das Leben der Anderen (Florian Henckel Elias, Norbert, 2, 21 von Donnersmarck), 174 emblem, 73, 77–8 Dauthendey, Max, 73 n.86 embodiment see body Ultraviolett, 79–81, 88, 89 emotion, 43, 45, 52, 108, 208 Davidson, Cathy N., 134 empathy, 15–16, 167, 187, 194, 196, de-automatisation, 45–6, 224 n.20 198, 201 decadence, decadence, 74, 82, 216 Encke, Julia, 168 deceleration, 67, 73, 76, 90, 122–3, 128, energy, 10, 53, 80, 94, 121, 124, 143, 157, 165, 167, 174, 182, 206–8, 215 144, 181, 250 n.8

Copyrighted material – 978–1– 137–41186–0 Copyrighted material – 978–1– 137–41186–0 Index 277 enlightenment, 22, 25, 207 Drei Abhandlungen zur Sexualtheorie ennui, 16, 81, 207, 216, 250 n.17 (Three Essays on Sexuality), 34 epigone, 24 Studien über Hysterie (Studies on epiphany, 10, 11, 73, 81, 91, 169 Hysteria), 34 epistemology, 7, 32, 72–3, 76–87, 80, Totem und Tabu (Totem and Taboo), 35 91, 187 Friedrich, Caspar David, 182 Erlebnis (living moment), 81–2 friendship, 2, 16, 212–13, 215–16 eroticism, 77, 108 Fritzsche, Peter, 247 n.9 essayism, 14, 72, 82, 93, 162 Fuchs, Anne, 8–9, 10, 13, 15, 182, estrangement see defamiliarisation 184, 206 ethics, 81, 91, 183, 187, 195, 203 functionalism, 57 ethnicity, 212 future, 3, 5, 6–7, 8, 10, 11, 16, 21, 22, ethnocentrism, 94 26–7, 29, 36–7, 39, 41, 42, 48, 50, exhaustion, cultural, 9, 25, 27, 32, 36 51, 54, 59, 61, 94, 97, 102, 105, experiment 107, 114, 116, 131, 137, 175, 195–6, aesthetic, 40, 48, 68, 76, 93, 148, 154, 198–200, 207–8, 211, 213, 214 162, 166, 167, 196 Futurism, 40, 61, 87, 93, 95–7, 140–2, scientific, 39, 155, 158–9, 165, 168, 154, 205, 250 n.8 169, 195, 199 expressionism, 11, 73, 79, 85, 86–90, 92 Garnier, Charles, 67 Gemeinschaft, 94 Farocki, Harun, 182 gender, 77, 210–11, 248 n.26, 251 n.24, fashion, 56, 96, 107, 122 252 n.33 Fassbinder, Rainer Werner, 244 n.2, 246 generations, 13, 24–5, 32, 35–6, 50–1, n.34 116, 118, 124–5, 128–9, 190 fatigue, 14 geology, 15, 90, 199 Feist, Werner David, 140 Gesellschaft, 94 feminism, 195, 211 gesture, 109, 110, 141, 143, 184 Film und Foto exhibition, 138 ghosts, 151, 175–6 see also spectrality fin de siècle, 21, 32, 35, 36, 91 Giddens, Anthony, 5 First World War, 27, 83, 93, 108, 114, Gleichzeitigkeit des Ungleichzeitigen 131, 132, 159, 168 (synchronicity of the non- Fischer, Philip, 49 synchronous), 12, 14, 15, 98 flâneur, 73, 126 globalisation, 5, 54, 88–90, 189, 190 flux, 52, 56, 57, 58, 60, 99, 144, 148 Gnam, Andrea, 241 n.6 Fordism, 224 n.20 Goethe, Johann Wolfgang von, 91, 95 forgetting, 10, 51, 52–3 Goll, Yvan, 87 Forster, E. M., 39–40 Goncharov, Ivan, 209 Foster, Norman, 54, 55, 58, 59–60, Goodstein, Elizabeth S., 206–7, 213, 63, 65 250 n.17 fragmentation, 5, 7, 72, 87, 99–101, 106, Gothic, 61, 66, 87, 90, 245 n.18 154, 162, 192, 199, 201 Göttsche, Dirk, 11 Franck, Georg, 105–6 Graf, Rüdiger, 116 Franco-Prussian War, 86 gramophone, 13, 138–40, 142–3, 149 Franz Ferdinand, Archduke, 136 Greenwich Mean Time, 1 Freud, Sigmund, 9, 15, 23, 34–6, 75, 94, Gumbrecht, Hans Ulrich, 6, 7, 10, 17, 222 n.43 48, 51 Der Mann Moses und die monotheistische Gutzkow, Karl, 89 Religion (Moses and Monotheism), 35 Die neue Serapionsbrüder (‘The new Die Traumdeutung (The Interpretation of Serapion brothers’), 90 Dreams), 94 gymnastics, 132

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‘Kinder auf der Landstraße’ (‘Children light, 14, 61, 64, 79, 80–1, 124, 142, on the country road’), 95, 98–9, 145, 146, 148–9, 151–2 101, 107 speed of, 1 ‘Wunsch, Indianer zu werden’ (‘Wish Liliencron, Detlev von, 81 to become a Red Indian’), 83, 105, Linklater, Richard, 39 106, 108, 111 Lissitzky, El, 138 Kahn, Louis, 67 Littlewood, Joan, 57 Kandinsky, Wassily, 88, 94, 96, 97, Loew, Heinz, 140 100–1, 105, 106, 109, 111 Long, Jonathan, 13, 182 Kant, Immanuel, 31 longitude, 21 Kavaloski, Joshua, 26, 220 n.15 love, 15, 45, 77, 81, 82, 91, 152, 183, Keightley, Emily, 8 192, 193, 201 Kepes, György, 14, 146–8, Lutyens, Edwin Landseer, 67 150–2, 153 Kern, Stephen, 93–4 Mach, Ernst, 31, 75, 76, 133 Kisch, Egon Erwin, 12, 119–21 magazines, 12, 146, 167 Kittler, Friedrich, 106 Mallarmé, Stéphane, 74, 106 Klassen, Julie, 193 man-machine hybrid, 106, 119 Koch, Hans-Gerd, 98 Mann, Thomas, 9, 23, 109 Kodak, 237 n.12 Buddenbrooks, 9, 24–5 Koselleck, Reinhart, 21–2, 37, Der Tod in Venedig (Death in Venice), 73, 207 36, 94 Kracauer, Siegfried, 14, 134, 152 Der Zauberberg (The Magic Mountain), Krauß, Angela, 189, 191–203 9, 25–7, 209 Das Vergnügen (‘Pleasure’), 191 Marc, Franz, 96, 99 Der Dienst (‘The duty’), 192 Marinetti, Filippo Tommaso, 97, 107 Das Glashaus (‘The glasshouse’), 191 Marx, Karl, 50, 94, 143 Im schönsten Fall, 193, 196–202 Massachusetts Institute of Technology, ‘Leipzig 1999’, 194 57, 146 Milliarden neuer Sterne (‘Billions of new materialism, 83, 84, 207 stars’), 193 Matisse, Henri, 106 Kuhle Wampe (Bertolt Brecht/Slatan Matthes, Frauke, 211 Dudow), 12, 121, 126, 128–9 McQuire, Scott, 5 media, 3, 8, 51, 75, 95, 106, 119, 124, 129, laboratory, 31, 159, 185–6 132, 136, 148, 154, 167, 174, 191 Lang, Fritz, 132 digital, 2, 4 Lange, Konrad, 123–4 social, 2, 4 late modernity, 7–8, 37, 129, 206 medicine, 193, 204, 207 lateness, 8–9, 21–5, 27–32, 34, 36–8 melancholy, 81, 109–10, 182, 183 Lazarsfeld, Paul F., 12, 128 memory, 4, 6, 7, 34–5, 40, 50, 67, 81, Le Corbusier, 55–6, 67 91, 94, 102, 134, 145, 159, 191 Lebensphilosophie, 81 cultural, 10, 44, 50, 51–3 Leccardi, Carmen, 5 Mendelsohn, Erich, 56, 60, 62, 67 leisure, 2, 4, 204, 209, 214 Metabolism, 58 Leitner, Maria, 126 metaphysics, 11, 30–1, 32, 74, 75, 80, Lendvai-Dircksen, Erna, 136 81, 141, 213 Lessing, Gotthold Ephraim, 78 metropolis, 27–8, 29, 32, 63, 73, 85, 87, Leys, Ruth, 23 146, 148–9, 151–2, 175 libraries, 4, 58, 97 Meyer, Clemens Lichtenstein, Alfred, 89 Als wir träumten (‘While we were Liebig, Justus von, 74–5 dreaming’), 16, 190, 209–12, 216–7

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Meyer-Gosau, Frauke, 247 n.3 narcissism,180, 182 military, 14, 159, 160, 161, 208 neo-avant-garde, 68 mimesis, 12, 179 neoliberalism, 2, 4–5, 8, 190, 193, 203 misogyny, 211–12 neon, 149–50 modernisation, 13, 22, 60, 71, 73, 78, nervousness, 25, 56, 155, 157 84, 90, 91, 101, 114, 116, 249 n.2 networks, 5–7, 15, 21, 67, 157, 162, 182–3 modernism, 8, 10, 11, 22, 23, 40, 45, Neues Sehen (new vision), 155 55–8, 72–9, 84, 86, 88, 90–1, 97, 99, neuroscience, 10, 239 n.49 102, 106, 111, 163, 165, 208 Nietzsche, Friedrich, 9, 23–5, 27, 36, 38, modernity, 3, 5–7, 8–14, 16, 22–3, 51, 74, 75 27–32, 35, 36–8, 41, 59, 60, 71, 72, nihilism, 16, 83, 210–11, 216, 217 73, 80–91, 97, 101, 102, 106, 107, Nordau, Max, 155 109, 114, 116, 118, 129–30, 148, nostalgia, 16, 59, 62, 94, 114, 135, 136, 151, 155–7, 163, 169, 174, 183, 206, 193, 195, 216 207–9, 216 Nouvel, Jean, 59 Moholy-Nagy, Lázsló, 138, 140, 146, Novalis, 192 148, 149 Nowotny, Helga, 183, 185–6, 246 n.37 moment, 5, 10, 11, 41–6, 48–9, 51–3, 72–3, 76–82, 89, 90–1, 101, 105–6, obsolescence, 56, 95 108, 116, 131, 135, 141, 163, 164, ocean liners, 54, 55, 56 167, 169, 199 Oedipus complex, 34 Monet, Claude, 67 Orlik, Emil, 135–6 montage, 12, 87, 89 online citizenship, 2 in film, 121–3, 186 Osborne, Peter, 8, 22, 38 Montaigne, Michel de, 81 Otto, Elizabeth, 113 Moravia, Alberto, 208 mortality, 40, 209, 213, 214–15 painting, 6, 7, 78–80, 85–6, 88, 94, 95–6, motorcycles, 87, 121 105, 108, 174, 182–5, 186–7 motorways, 57, 68, 204, 214–6 panopticism, 180 mourning, 12, 95, 96 paranoia, 192 Munich Secession, 79 particle theory, 1–2, 195 Münsterberg, Hugo, 159, 167 Pascal, Blaise, 81 Murnau, F. W., 178, 245 n.18 pathology, 7, 154–5 museums, museality, 10, 48–9, 51, 58, social, 4 97, 186 temporal, 9, 25, 27, 51 music, musicality, 25, 42, 43, 76, 83, 87, perception, 10, 11, 13, 14, 26, 27, 31, 105–6, 109, 132, 139–40, 153, 178, 33, 42–3, 45–6, 49, 76–8, 80, 82, 85, 181, 201 94–5, 98, 99–100, 105, 111, 130, Musil, Robert, 14, 23, 109, 154–69 131, 148, 150, 154–5, 165, 192, 198, Der Mann ohne Eigenschaften (The Man 215, 229 n.49 without Qualities), 157, 161–6 visual, 76–7, 91, 99, 144–5 ‘Die Amsel’ (‘The Blackbird’), 167–8 perceptual synthesis, 2, 21, 32, 43, 154 Die Verwirrungen des Zöglings Törleß performance, 12, 44, 47–8, 86, 94, 104, (Young Törless), 36 109, 130, 132, 138, 152, 160, 164, Drei Frauen (Three Women), 166 179–80, 184, 186, 203 ‘Geschwindigkeit ist eine Hexerei’ performativity, 10, 50, 109, 180, 181–2, (‘Speed is witchcraft’), 155–7 183–4, 185, 186–7, 220 n.15 Nachlaß zu Lebzeiten (Posthumous Papers perspective of a Living Author), 73, 158, 161, 166–9 cinematic, 121, 123 Vereinigungen (Unions), 166 narrative, 25, 89, 99, 100, 210 mysticism, 48, 52, 97, 165–6, 168 in visual art, 99, 101, 151

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Petzold, Christian, 14, 15 railways, 12, 21, 41, 64, 75, 85, 90, Barbara, 15, 173–88 94, 95–6, 98, 99–101, 107–8, 109, Gespenster, 175–6, 245 n.18 122–3, 125, 126, 132, 146, 150, 154, Jerichow, 177 156, 157, 158, 205, 213 Wolfsburg, 178 Rathenau, Walter, 136 Yella, 177, 178, 245 n.18, 251 n.25 rationalisation, 14, 29, 38, 76, 132, 144 Peukert, Detlev, 114, 116, 118, 130 rationality, 203 Pezze, Barbara Dalle, 250 n.16 realism, 72, 73, 77, 91, 99, 101, 176, phenomenology, 81, 105 244 n.1 phonograph see gramophone reception, 11, 46, 47, 49, 75–6, 136, 153 photodynamism, 140–2 relativity, 1, 12, 40, 90, 94, 98, 149 photography, 13–14, 43, 55, 78, Rembrandt van Rijn, 174, 182, 184–8 129, 133–52, 233 n.45, 237 n.12, repetition, 35–6, 40, 44, 46, 48, 77, 122, 239 n.49 204, 208 photomontage, 12, 113, 132 repression, 36 physiology, 159 rhythm, 10, 27, 40, 42, 44, 48, 72, Piano, Renzo, 54, 55, 58, 59, 63–4 85, 87, 95, 102, 105, 110, 162–4, Picasso, Pablo, 106, 109 169, 206 Pinthus, Kurt, 87 in film, 15, 123, 179, 181 Poeppel, Ernst, 42 in literature, 106, 111 poetics, 46, 72–3, 75–7, 81, 82, 87, 91 in music, 94 Polgar, Alfred Rice, Peter, 58, 63 Orchester von Oben (‘Orchestra from Richter, Gerhard, 182 above’), 71–2, 73–5, 81 ritual, 25, 47, 60, 94, 185 Poschmann, Marion, 209, 210 Rogers, Richard, 55, 58, 59 post-impressionism, 78 Romanticism, 91, 96, 192–3, 198 postmodernism, 58, 59, 61 Rosa, Hartmut, 6–7, 13, 17, 37, 118–19, postmodernity, 249 n.2 125, 126, 129–30, 206, 207, 208, 216 posture, 176, 181–2 routine, 10, 15, 43, 44, 46, 81, 102, presence, 6, 48, 49–53, 111, 185 107, 120 Price, Cedric, 54, 57–8, 63 Rubiner, Ludwig, 87, 88–9 private sphere, 7 Ruge, Eugen, 190 progress, 9, 12, 21–2, 36–7, 78, 86, 91, Ryder, Paul, 205 95–6, 97. 102, 113, 114, 125, 128, 129, 158, 207 Saarinen, Eero, 62 propaganda, 114, 148, 183 Sagebiel, Ernst, 62 Proust, Marcel, 109 Salzani, Carlo, 250 n.16 psychology, Santayana, George, 134 applied, 13, 14, 159 Sartre, Jean-Paul, 208 experimental, 165, 159, 165, 168, 239 Schabowski, Günter, 189 n.49 Schiele, Egon, 109 psychotechnics, 14, 132, 158–62, 164–5, Schivelbusch, Wolfgang, 95, 104, 154 167, 169 Schuitema, Paul, 14, 138–40, 142–6, psychotherapy, 10, 42 152, 153 public sphere, 114 Schulze, Gerhard, 216 punctuality, 9, 28, 31, 34, 151 Schwitters, Kurt, 138, 145 Scott, George Gilbert, 66, 67 Quinlan, Terry, 59 sculpture, 95, 96, 102, 146 Sebald, W. G., 182–3, 184, 185, 186–7 Raabe, Wilhelm, 90–1 Second World War, 36, 57, 67, 205 radio, 56, 132, 174, 178, 181 secularisation, 81, 91, 207

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Sennett, Richard, 4–5 stasis, 13, 14, 15, 134, 141, 145, 157, sensation, 11, 27, 31, 35, 75, 76, 95, 96, 168–9, 205, 208, 209 n. 211 99, 157, 178, 205 steam, 12, 75, 87, 90, 94, 95, 100, 101 sensorium, 14 Stern, Daniel, 42–3 sensory overload, 9, 28, 111, 148, 154 Sternberger, Dolf, 154 Sentimentalism, 91 Stiegler, Bernd, 134 sexual orientation, 212 Stift, Linda, 209 sexuality, 24, 77 Stifter, Adalbert, 90 Shakespeare, William, 39, 108 stimuli, 27, 28–9, 32, 42, 111, 144, Shklovsky, Viktor, 45–6, 155 146, 148 shock, 46, 116, 122, 124 Stravinsky, Igor, 94 Sieburg, Friedrich, 12, 126 streamlining, 55–6 Siemens, Werner, 107 stream-of-consciousness, 10, 197 Simmel, Georg, 9, 23, 27–8, 29, 148, Stumpf, Carl, 159 151, 155 subjectivity, 7, 31, 32, 36, 111, 192, 207 simultaneity, 6–7, 12, 23, 40, 98, sublimation, 34 149, 199 submarines, 56 Skype, 94 suburbs, 60, 204, 212, 214 slowness, 3, 15–16, 22, 25, 27, 37, 85, superego, 34 95, 173–4, 176, 181, 186, 187, surface, 12, 14, 27, 35, 36, 59, 101, 191, 206 142–3, 144, 148, 151, 152, 195, 204 smell, 29 surrealism, 88, 99, 101, 108, 111 snapshot, 14, 135–6, 137–8. 141, 149, surveillance, 5, 173, 174, 176, 177, 180, 152 182, 186 sound, 29, 49, 64, 67, 84, 99, 101, 105, suspense, 52, 161, 162 142, 152, 168, 178, 181, 185 sustainability, 61, 63, 66 space, 1, 6, 7, 12, 13, 15, 16, 23, 49, Svendsen, Lars, 213 57–8, 63–6, 67, 68, 73, 75, 76, 78, Svevo, Italo, 109 83, 86, 88, 95, 97–8, 99–100, 102, symbolism, 59, 73, 77, 81, 90 107, 108, 109, 141, 143, 144, 149, synchronisation, 9, 21, 22, 28, 30, 31, 150, 151–2, 165, 168, 169, 173, 32, 34, 37, 41, 49, 125, 180, 213 178–9, 181, 183, 190, 191, 197, 198, 204, 208, 211, 216 tactility, 99 Sparschuh, Jens, 190 Tagg, John, 133 spatialisation of time, 73 Tange, Kenzo, 54, 57–8, 59, 63 spectacle, 12, 14, 27, 32, 35, 120–1, Taylor, Frederick Winslow, 132 144–5, 149, 151, 152, 174, 249 n.5 Taylor, Joshua C., 102 spectatorship, 137, 152, 187 Taylorism, 28, 159, 162 spectrality see also ghosts, 107, 108, 150, telegram, 11, 67, 75 175–6 telegraph, 12, 75, 94, 100, 132, 133–4 speed teleology, 23, 24, 199, 210 fetishisation of, 205, 206 telephone, 75, 178 pleasure of, 96, 111 Tellkamp, Uwe, 190 politics of, 3, 177, 183 Telmann, Konrad, 90 spirituality, 97, 168 tempo, 7, 12, 90, 107, 108, 109, 113–14, sport, 48, 52, 113, 121, 122, 132, 136, 116, 118, 119, 122, 124–5, 128, 132, 152, 164–5 133, 138, 149, 163 stagecoach, 95 temporalisation of space, 73, 90 Stamm, Peter, 209–10 theatre, 47–8, 57, 184–5 Stasi, 172, 174, 176, 179, 183, 187 Thoma, Hans, 78–9

Copyrighted material – 978–1– 137–41186–0 Copyrighted material – 978–1– 137–41186–0 Index 283 thrill, 61, 119, 123, 137, 179, 205, 216 Turgenev, Ivan, 73, 77, 182 time typewriter, 106–7, 142 abstract, 21, 22, 42, 51, 84, 85, 116, 214 Umbo (Otto Umbehr), 12, 119, 122 aesthetic, 47 uncanny, 84, 108, 175, 178, 222 n.45, alternative, 9, 16, 17, 30, 37, 209, 245 n.18 215, 216 unemployment, 14, 120–1, 128, 237 n.3 as ‘cognitive symbol’, 1 urbanism see cities clock, 5, 12, 31, 40–1, 84, 94, 95, Utopia, 30, 90, 144, 148, 240 n.57 194, 216 cosmic, 39, 40 van Dijck, José, 2–3 cyclical, 36, 40, 81, 100 velocity, 96, 97, 105, 136, 157, 196 dissipation of, 6 Verne, Jules, 89 dissolution of, 128 Vidal, Ricarda, 250 n.8 empty, 6, 16, 26, 27, 39, 45–6, 51, video, 10, 49 207, 208 Virilio, Paul, 5, 177, 183, 205, 208 full, 45–6, 48, 49, 52 visibility, 184–5, 187 geological, 15, 90, 199 vision, 31–2, 100, 101, 144, 154, 175 homogeneous, 38, 39, 44 vitalism, 75, 85, 111, 141, 143, 205, 212 human, 2, 5, 15, 39–40, 42–3, 51, 202 Van Gogh, Vincent, 79 linear, 5, 6, 36, 40, 203 objective, 26 Walser, Robert, 9, 23, 32–3, 73, 83–6 politics of, 8, 22, 27, 38, 183 warfare, 160 profane, 212–13, 214, 216, 252 n.37 watches, 26, 28, 40, 151, 179, 185, 213, rationalised, 4, 7, 9, 84–5 214, 215 social, 20, 311, 252 n.37 Webber, Andrew, 14–15 subjective, 9, 16, 26, 27, 37, 194, 210 Weimar Republic, 12–13, 84, 113–21, timekeeping, 9 124–5, 128, 129–30, 131–2, 134–6, timetables, 1, 28, 29, 30, 32, 100, 107 138, 144, 145, 149, 151, 152, Tolstoy, Leo, 45, 46 239 n.49 Tomlinson, John, 3, 96, 97 Weininger, Otto, 155 tradition, 8, 25, 35, 37, 58, 61, 114, Wertheimer, Max, 239 n.49 116, 124 Widdig, Bernd, 131 traditionalism, 8, 23 Wittgenstein, Ludwig, 48 Trakl, Georg, 89–90 Wollen, Peter, 134 trams, 12, 95, 107–8, 160, 177 Woolf, Virginia, 40, 41, 46, 52, 109 transcendence, 83, 106, 215 Wordsworth, William, 108 transgenerational transmission, 36 work, 3, 4, 13, 33, 84–5, 107, 120–1, 125, transience, 77, 80, 81, 89, 138, 169. 126, 128, 132, 149, 152, 169–60, 174, 214 174, 179, 186–8, 204, 209, 214 transportation, 7, 14, 37, 54–6, 59, 61, working through, 36 62, 63–5, 96, 107–8, 122–3, 132, Wright, Frank Lloyd, 67 154, 156, 157, 159, 160, 162, 163, Wundt, Wilhelm, 31 173, 174, 177, 193 trauma, 34–6, 42, 173, 178, 204–5, YouTube, 2, 10, 49 209, 211 Tschichold, Jan, 138 Zeppelin, 67, 146 Tucholsky, Kurt, 12, 125, 126 Zwart, Piet, 138