Life on the Wire: Post–9/11 Mourning in Mordicai Gerstein’s The Man Who Walked between the Towers

“I make books for people, most of whom happen to be children, and I try to address the most essential parts of all of us.”

—Mordicai Gerstein

In his 2004 Caldecott Acceptance Speech, Mordicai Gerstein humbly recounts the many setbacks he encountered while writing the book that ultimately became The Man Who Walked between the Towers (2003). Originally conceived as a story about a boy who bicycles to the moon, Gerstein cast the project aside in 1987 after his editor claimed that such a story was “simply not believable” (“2004 Caldecott Acceptance Speech”). Gerstein would not return to the project until the September 11, 2001 terrorist attacks reminded him of the original inspiration for the book project: Philippe Petit’s 1974 walk between the Twin Towers. Having once lived in New York City, Gerstein had observed Petit juggling in Central Park, and he remembered the excitement that surrounded Petit’s high-wire walk even though he did not witness it. Interested in constructing a narrative celebrating Petit’s prior feat, Gerstein quickly began culling information from newspaper articles in order to piece together the narrative that we now know as The Man Who Walked between the Towers.

Gerstein incorporated many of the factual details he uncovered during the research phase into his final manuscript. One of the more notable attributes of the book, these details reveal Gerstein’s preoccupation with accuracy. For instance, in the opening page the narrator remarks that the Twin Towers were “each a quarter of a mile high,” and the book closes with the exact date of Petit’s walk: August 7, 1974. The narrative itself also closely follows the story as told by Philippe Petit in his 2002 memoir, To Reach the Clouds. Details such as Petit’s elaborate scheme for breaking into the World Trade Center remain unaltered, and even the fairy tale quality that previous critics of the book have noticed remains faithful to Petit’s memoir (Lampert 109; Ulanowicz 165–66). While Gerstein consulted multiple sources, he admits that Petit’s memoir was a key contributor to the final manuscript. His much-acclaimed illustrations, for example, derive from several photographs found in Petit’s memoir, and in his Caldecott speech Gerstein claimed that these images were “invaluable for making my pictures.” Like the inclusion of facts and dates, the use of original photographs is additional evidence of Gerstein’s commitment to accuracy. Indeed, Gerstein’s desire for accuracy was such that he revised the thickness of the wire even after the book went to press.¹

Although Gerstein admits that Petit’s memoir influenced his narrative and illustrations, he departs from the memoir’s ideological stance on mourning. The memoir, which was dedicated to those who lost family members in the World Trade Center attacks, ends with the proposal to rebuild the Twin Towers exactly as they were, with a simple twist: they should be taller and stronger. Should this dream become a reality, Petit promises, he will walk once more between the towers, effectively repeating history and returning to the days before terror fell upon New York City (239). In a personal interview, Gerstein insisted that his book was not influenced by Petit’s post–9/11 perspective about the Twin Towers. In a matter-of-fact tone, he writes: “I didn’t meet Petit until after my book was published. I think our points of view are very different. I don’t think the towers should be rebuilt. … I think in the minds of all who saw and lived with them, they will always be there.” Gerstein also references an op-ed piece where he claims Petit first announced the very same beliefs that appear in his memoir.² The reference reveals Gerstein’s awareness of the varied perspectives about the best way to memorialize the Twin Towers. As a former New York City resident, Gerstein attempts to claim the authority to weigh in on the conversation, with the intent of countering more eccentric perspectives like Petit’s. Gerstein’s response to Petit’s walk...