As a kid, I loved telling people around me about my unique superpower. It seems I was blessed with the supreme power to never trip with open shoelaces. Hundreds of people have been good samaritans over the years, pointing out my perenially askew shoelaces. I’ve always reassured them that it’s all good. I really have never tripped! I thought with my mostly untarnished reputation to never fib, most people would believe me. Sadly, this superpower wasn’t cool enough for folks to take me seriously.
Now for me, this was a superpower because I never had to worry about my shoelaces consciously. Almost always frayed, there were firmly at the back of my mind. But for Howie, the protagonist of Nicholas Baker’s The Mezzanine, his shoelaces are the subject of deep rumination. Both of his shoelaces snap in a couple of days, requiring a visit to CVS, the convenience store. He picks up a cookie and a container of milk for lunch and reads Marcus Aurelius’ Meditations on a bench. This entire trip is channeled via an escalator which is an object of deep fascination for Howie. This is the extent of the physical happenings in the text, with everything else charter out in a plotless, stream of consciousness. Howie indulges in deep thinking about toilet paper, office machinery, plastic straws, popcorn, and a bunch of other everyday paraphernalia as he heads up the escalator. The book is designed in a unique fashion with multiple footnotes acting as guides with the final footnote discussing footnotes themselves. Very meta, no? The cultural tropes and observations are firmly placed in the 90s with remnants of the past era standing out now. Office culture acts as a broad theme in the backdrop with equipment, toilet etiquette, work mannerisms, and the general atmosphere of the place present in streaks. But really, none of this matters. It’s just Howie and his thoughts as he heads up the escalator.
The read: I can relate to Howie’s reminiscing about random, seemingly inconsequential objects having done so myself in the past. I understand the allure of letting the subconscious take over and think about stuff with a nostalgic tinge to it. I’m not sure if it was the greatest idea to read this stream of shapeless thought right after having read a police procedural the previous day. But clearly, there is an unexplainable joy of the mundane by itself as well. I think it’s the kind of book one could naturally shake their head at, wondering if there was any point. But that’s the thing, there is no point to his musings. This is just trivial pondering about how milk cartons replaced milk bottles or how the perforation on toilet paper differed at home and office. The observations are spot-on and don’t feel dated despite the difference in the time period. Baker writes in a vivid and witty manner, making you think about thinking. Pick this up for when you have a little time to yourself, to ride your own thought escalator.
31/365.
Trivia: The term “mezzanine” comes originally from Italian “mezzanino”, which is a diminutive of “mezzano”, (meaning middle). This, in turn, comes from Latin “mediānus” (meaning in the middle). In architecture “mezzanine” means a low-ceilinged story between two main stories of a building, especially, an intermediate story that projects in the form of a balcony. This also lends itself to a form of financing using the same term where the capital is used for transitions. (Reference)
Documentation:
Book: The Mezzanine
Author: Nicholas Baker
Year of Release: 1990
Author: Vintage