Written in short, digestible sections, this engaging and quirky book about the “invisible” elements of cities helps open our eyes to the incredible ingenuities—and byzantine bureaucracies—that are a part of our urban communities.
___________________________
Whenever I take a flight from my hometown airport, my mind goes through the same sequence of thoughts. During the plane’s initial ascent, the view from the window looks entirely familiar. Then, just a few moments later, the familiarity starts to diminish and an ever so slight uncanniness creeps in. The place I think I know so well takes on a slightly strange feeling. My usual perspective of the mountains, fields, rivers, and city infrastructure—along with their relationships to one another—is altered. It’s still my hometown, sure enough, but seen through a different lens.
It’s this sort of feeling that the authors of The 99% Invisible City try to, and succeed at, producing in its readers. Subtitled A Field Guide to the Hidden World of Everyday Design, the book is exactly what it claims to be—and it’s a genuinely fun and eye-opening experience.
Based on their 99% Invisible podcast, authors Roman Mars and Kurt Kohlstedt have achieved a dazzling show-and-tell performance with this book—one that involves towering skyscrapers (and races to build the tallest one), decorative objects that cover up tattered parts of old buildings, fake speed bumps, strange building codes, and so much more. They’ve spent over a decade digging into these stories, and their passion for the subject matter is palatable.
Some of the stories in the book, while hardly life-changing, are nonetheless interesting. We’ve all witnessed those tall, grinning inflatable tube men outside of car dealerships, flailing around like they’ve been injected with a happy serum. But even in these somewhat mundane cases, the authors give us interesting details. We learn that Houston and other cities have banned air dancers, which started doing their boot, scoot and boogie in the 1990s, after a man named Peter Minshall modified a version of his giant puppets. (In case you’re partial to these nimble dancers, you’ll be happy to know that some of them have found employment in corn fields, scaring away mischievous animals with their interpretive dance moves.)
Other topics in the book carry much more tangible, everyday ramifications.
Let’s say you park your tired tuchus on a park bench, perhaps to take a brief respite on a brutally hot day. A few seconds after sitting down, you think to yourself, “Who in the world designed this? It’s awful.” The truth is, that bench may very well have been designed to be uncomfortable. Known as “hostile architecture,” this type of design is meant to deter certain behaviors, like loitering, the buildup of a homeless encampment, or otherwise unwanted activities.
Consider, for example, the Camden bench. This heavy and clunky looking piece of street furniture can be found in London. As the authors point out, this ungainly piece of concrete can do it all: disappoint skateboarders, discourage thieves and mischief makers, and leave drug dealers without even a nook or cranny to make a discreet drop-off.
Another story in the book concerning hostile design revolves around an oddly—but not haphazardly—placed bike rack. It turns out that the city of Seattle installed it at that particular location to deter the homeless from camping there. Bikes had nothing to do with it. When some city residents learned of this, controversy ensued. Not surprisingly, issues pertaining to hostile architecture have sparked much debate.
Some of the most gratifying parts of the book have to do with myriad “invisible” devices, objects, and solutions that literally save lives. We see barriers and highway dividers all the time, for instance, but have probably given little if any attention to the design thinking behind them.
Consider the Jersey barrier. These barriers may look like a mere “lump of concrete formed into a commonsense shape,” the authors write, “but everything about them is highly engineered.” Their various curves and angles help prevent “head-on collisions,” as well as assist drivers in “[keeping their] vehicles pointed forward.” Who knows how many deadly accidents and life-altering injuries have been reverted thanks to the ingenious design of the barrier.
As readers traverse the pages of this wonderful book and explore the “hidden world of everyday design” they’ll likely come away with a greater appreciation for just how complex cities are, and how countless design decisions—both big and small—affect lives.
While the absence of inflatable air dancers is innocuous enough, other elements about urban life are far from trivial. The authors’ larger motive behind these amusing but significant stories is clear: urban design matters. It can make one’s life better or worse; it can save lives (or, in extreme cases, lead to death); it can affect the cohesiveness and well-being of certain populations and communities.
Refreshingly, the authors avoid partisan language or viewpoints, and instead highlight the need for transparency, open and honest debate, and the ability of informed citizens to create the cities they desire. The 99% Invisible City is well worth reading, capable of illuminating parts of the city life that one never knew existed.
Spectatio 