Well there is no point asking “What is psychogeography?”. You can find the answer to that anywhere. It will be concise, exact and detailed. It will also be gobbledygook. Isn’t gobbledygook a fine word? Gobbledygook, psychobabble and pretentious crap are the technical languages of psychogeography.
So let’s sidestep the ‘What’ and get all whimsical and ask ‘Where’ instead.
Psychogeography seems to be a small ghetto, badly served by transport links, with no good pubs or cafes. That’s misleading though. Like Skegness advertising itself as ‘bracing’ psychogeography does itself no favours. Because in reality it isn’t a little place at all. It’s a bloody great continent.
It contains Charlotte Bronte’s Yorkshire, Jerome K Jerome’s Thames and Ian Rankin’s Edinburgh. It’s got Bladerunner’s LA, Woody Allen’s Manhattan and Casablanca’s, err, Casablanca. On its television you’ll see The Apprentice’s London, Taggerts’ Glasgow and Buffy’s Sunnydale.
It is anywhere, in fact, where the sense of place matters as much as character or plot.