By Christian Viveros-Fauné
By Miriam Felton-Dansky
By Tom Sellar
By Tom Sellar
By Jessica Dawson
By Tom Sellar
By R. C. Baker
By Tom Sellar
But what is the story? (Hall favors punchy interrogations to keep his readers up to speed. At times, ploughing through this unforgiving prose is like taking an exam for which you are badly prepared. "How far did all this represent the birth of capitalism?" the author will bark. "What had all this to do with the Renaissance?" Don't panic, there's a user-friendly summary coming at the end of each section.) The aim is to watch the city as, in a version of time-lapse photography, it flowers and dies. Behind the civic spectacle of great public buildings in Athens and Florence or brutal circuses in Rome lie squalid poverty, disease, and crime. Paradoxically, given the bulk and the factual density of Hall's project, the movement through the centuries is swift, carrying the reader beyond physical territory to hyperspace and the frontiers of the information superhighway.
As we approach the millennial hinge, publishers and commissioning editors look for a general theory of everything, an explanation to carry away in a strong knapsack: an all- purpose panacea, part Viagra, part Prozac, against the coming darkness. In London, where I live, as the century thins the histories get fatter (genetically mutated like midwestern schoolkids on their hormone-rich, fast-food diets): Roy Porter's London: A Social History (published in England in 1994) was a modest and handsomely illustrated 448 pages. But by 1998, Stephen Inwood, with A History of London, required a page for every year of the millennium.
We seem terrified that the past can no longer be accessed. It is vanishing before our eyes. We capture those traces that can still be found and imprison them in heritaged ghettos, reservations of pure sentiment. Shakespeare's Globe Theatre, on the banks of the Thames, is a replica so authentic that it is totally fraudulent. Real estate doesn't time-travel. The thatched oval looks right, but without the surrounding brothels and bear pits, it has no meaning. Peter Hall, in his section on the deregulated Britain of the 1980s ("The City of Capitalism Rampant"), is very perceptive about all this the scams and sweetheart deals that converted London's derelict Docklands into a virtual- unreality set. This was a development imposed from above by political interests. There was no transportation infrastructure. The tunnel that had to be built in the Docklands was Britain's most expensive road project: part of a landscape of franchised surrealism, in which travelers emerging from the darkness were greeted by a giant inflatable clown perched on the roof of a multinational hamburger joint.
The rigor of Hall's argument, the need to press on, doesn't allow him to notice such minor absurdities. In a sense, his book is a madder, Borgesian project: laying out a city of words that will, if properly approached, become a city of memory. By visiting certain places at certain periods, an overview will be achieved. The polis of Athens (500400 B.C.); the market culture and enlightened patronage of Florence; the dreadful clatter, stink, and smoke of industrial Manchester; the Elektropolis of Berlin. Cities defined by lists of cultural assets, so that Vienna becomes a hit parade of busking composers: "Haydn, Mozart, Beethoven and Schubert." Cramming in so much, like a Cook's tour or a sponsored travelogue, only makes us aware of what has been left out. Hall grants his paradigmatic cities "short periods of creative artistic glory" and asserts that "most never had another." A statement that is pertinent to his scheme, but demonstrably untrue. The Paris of the Impressionists is a familiar story that bears repetition, but it does not invalidate the Paris of Villon or Baudelaire or the Surrealists.
As cultural history, Cities in Civilization takes few risks, tending to present tactful summaries of distinguished forerunners: Lewis Mumford, Walter Benjamin, and the hundreds of others credited in the 84-page bibliography. Sections on the growth of the Hollywood world entertainment nexus and on music from the Delta are readable, if unoriginal, but do they belong in this great progression of cities? Doesn't the unfeatured Las Vegas, with its interface of criminality, showbiz, Mormons, Howard Hughes, come closer to explaining the great American psychosis?