100 Books Like The Highway and the City

This eye-opening book was a revelation to me as a young student of architecture. It provided the keys to how cities really work. Its observations are as relevant and fresh today as they were when it was published in 1961. For me and many in my generation, it helped us to see and appreciate the organic, human-centered dynamics of neighborhoods, introducing the powerful concept of “organized complexity,” which made sense of things we saw but failed to understand.

I met Jane in Toronto in 1968 where she became a lifelong friend and mentor until her death in 2006. It remains a foundational text for me in understanding urban life and my life’s work. 

New sections of cities, new neighborhoods, and big infrastructure projects are aspirational for societies. They aren’t just about problem-solving. In this great book, historian Robert Fishman shows how London and Paris developed differently because they had different ideals and different aspirations.

As it began to grow due to industrialization in the late 18th century, London prioritized the development of townhouses, its urban ideal. This caused it to become a sprawling, low-rise city. Paris developed in the mid-19th century as a city of glamorous, stylish apartment buildings because this was Paris’s ideal.

Parisians valued the street and cultural life that apartment life generated. The title of this book is off-putting for me because it sounds so academic. But Fishman, a trained historian, writes well and gives you big ideas and details in a readable package. 

I can still remember so much from this book. A great stat Hawes included was that in the year 1870, 90 percent of upper-class New Yorkers lived in townhouses or other types of single-family homes. By 1930, 90 percent lived in apartment buildings or “French flats,” as they were sometimes called. Basically, almost alone among American cities, New York chose to emulate Paris in its model of urbanism rather than London.

New York developers built and sold “French flats” that were large and ostentatious, like the Ansonia and the Dakota, which are still there today. These iconic apartment buildings were built along the streetcar and subway lines. Hawes was a writer for The New Yorker, so this is very readable.

Joel Garreau, a longtime reporter for The Washington Post, was one of the first people to take the sprawling suburbs, the collections of malls, subdivisions, and office parks seriously. He was one of the first people to call them cities. After publishing his book, academics, and professional urban planners began discussing “edge cities.”

Garreau gives many specifics because he is a reporter, which is how he works. He travels the country looking at different edge cities, starting with the one in his own backyard, Tyson’s Corner, outside Washington, D.C.

People don’t often think of horses as urban dwellers, but until the 1930s, American urban life depended on the thousands of horses who were residents, workers, commuters, and consumers. A banker in Boston encountered more horses than a cowboy in Colorado. Tarr and McShane describe urban horses as “living machines” used for mass transit, individual transportation, delivery, construction, manufacturing, and city services. The authors present a wealth of fascinating information and ideas about this relatively unknown aspect of history. The topical organization about how human urbanites obtained, used, supplied, doctored, managed, and maintained equine urbanites makes it easy for readers to dip into the sections of the book that catch their interest.

Another Melville and another unusual one. Melville died broke and mostly forgotten. Lewis Mumford, a now mostly forgotten literary critic, is largely responsible for resuscitating Melville’s reputation in the early 20th century.

Sachs, an environmental historian who can really write, has penned a very unconventional, twinned biography of Melville and Mumford–the chapters go from one to the other, a style that takes some getting used to–that explores what it was about Melville’s dark vision of human nature, climate change, and capitalism that spoke to Mumford, and what it has to say to us.  

To understand cities today, you also have to understand why and how they were built to begin with. After all, our environment contains the materialization of previous decisions – we should know why those were made! Through the story of over a dozen global cities, historian Ben Wilson demonstrates how cities are concentrations of hopes, dreams, power, and conflict. While many great historians like Lewis Mumford and Stephen Hall have preceded him with excellently detailed urban history books of their own, this book stands out in its readability, attention to detail, and especially its coverage of global cities. After all, the urban future of most of the world lies beyond the Global North, and this broad survey shows the vast differences in urbanism between cultures.

Mumford’s book provides one of the widest templates of the way cities have evolved since pre-history, contrasting how culture and technologies are critical to the way cities grow and change. His idea that cities grow organically can be contrasted with what all our authors in this quintet of books are asking.

This book gives a great overview of how cities have developed. Read it first, dip into it, and use it as a reference, but only read it if you know nothing about cities. If you know about cities, dip into it and use it to understand the other books in this list.

If you’ve ever wondered why modern buildings look the way they do—and look so different from say, the buildings of our grandparents’ generation—you cannot do better than read this collection of essays that examines the current state of modern architecture. Glazer, a sociologist who was a noted public intellectual, brings a down-to-earth intelligence and a sharp eye to his subject.

What's not to like when the main character is a self-styled "book detective" making his way through the hidden passages and darker alleys of the world of rare antiquarian books? Lucas Corso seeks to authenticate an old manuscript by Alexander Dumas, but his quest takes an eerie turn as the events and characters he encounters along the way begin to replicate those found in Dumas's fiction. This delightful 1993 novel was meta before meta was cool, and is deeply rewarding for any bibliophile.