Fourth Book: Tracey Kidder´s ¨House¨
While in Corn Islands, I polished off Tracey Kidder´s ¨House.¨ I picked up this book because I enjoyed his crisp style of writing from his ¨Mountains Beyond Mountains.¨ What appealed to me was the angle of this non-fiction story, set in Amherst, MA in the early 1980s, following the construction of a single house from the birth of its idea to the moment that the owners celebrate their move-in with champagne.
Indeed I enjoyed reading it, as Kidder is a very good explainer. He concentrated on the desires of the owners, the thought processes of the architect, and the craftsmanship of the builders. He then went on to describe each phase of the construction. Throughout, he made the process accessible, adding where appropriate passages about the historical context and modern implications of the methods of construction. This is not just a story about the building of one house; Kidder relates the construction to broader social practices dealing with the craft.
This book about houses got me thinking about houses and books: The house I grew up in (it was built around the same time and in a similar Northeastern manner of craftsmanship) and the house I would like to live in one day. He talks in broad terms about what houses mean--to the people that design them, to the people that build, to the people that live in them, to the communities that sustain them. He writes about how a house is more than a structure made out of wood and nails, but rather a thing made special in American history because of the craftsmanship that goes into it.
And this book got me thinking too about the books I´ve written and those I´d like to write some day: Specifically, I like what Kidder did here as a story-teller, getting people to open up to him. He managed to insert himself into a very precise and often intense place, one at which he could observe and record all the internal conflicts that arose between the builders, architect, and owners over the course of the house´s construction. As a journalist, that´s really not an easy thing to do.
This is a book about processes, and he captures all that. But, more importantly, it´s a book about people. By the end of the story, I felt like the characters wer my friends. That´s because Kidder nails their mannerisms and sheds much light onto their personal motivations with vignettes about their personal histories. He´s naturally interested in the differences between them -- cultural and economic, professional and personal -- and the conflicts that arise as a result. Yet the building of the house does not prove to be a zero-sum game, and the various parties must compromise repeatedly in order to ensure the success of the project.
In his writing, Kidder reconstructed for the reader the world surrounding the building of this house--a world populated by people, blueprints, and wooden planks. But naturally, this world comes to a close when the house is finished. As such, I found that I missed the characters when the book ended.
(Next up: Alan Paton´s ¨Cry, the Beloved Country¨)
Indeed I enjoyed reading it, as Kidder is a very good explainer. He concentrated on the desires of the owners, the thought processes of the architect, and the craftsmanship of the builders. He then went on to describe each phase of the construction. Throughout, he made the process accessible, adding where appropriate passages about the historical context and modern implications of the methods of construction. This is not just a story about the building of one house; Kidder relates the construction to broader social practices dealing with the craft.
This book about houses got me thinking about houses and books: The house I grew up in (it was built around the same time and in a similar Northeastern manner of craftsmanship) and the house I would like to live in one day. He talks in broad terms about what houses mean--to the people that design them, to the people that build, to the people that live in them, to the communities that sustain them. He writes about how a house is more than a structure made out of wood and nails, but rather a thing made special in American history because of the craftsmanship that goes into it.
And this book got me thinking too about the books I´ve written and those I´d like to write some day: Specifically, I like what Kidder did here as a story-teller, getting people to open up to him. He managed to insert himself into a very precise and often intense place, one at which he could observe and record all the internal conflicts that arose between the builders, architect, and owners over the course of the house´s construction. As a journalist, that´s really not an easy thing to do.
This is a book about processes, and he captures all that. But, more importantly, it´s a book about people. By the end of the story, I felt like the characters wer my friends. That´s because Kidder nails their mannerisms and sheds much light onto their personal motivations with vignettes about their personal histories. He´s naturally interested in the differences between them -- cultural and economic, professional and personal -- and the conflicts that arise as a result. Yet the building of the house does not prove to be a zero-sum game, and the various parties must compromise repeatedly in order to ensure the success of the project.
In his writing, Kidder reconstructed for the reader the world surrounding the building of this house--a world populated by people, blueprints, and wooden planks. But naturally, this world comes to a close when the house is finished. As such, I found that I missed the characters when the book ended.
(Next up: Alan Paton´s ¨Cry, the Beloved Country¨)
posted by Hayden @ 1:00 PM
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