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Landscapes of Communism: A History Through Buildings
'In the craven world of architectural criticism Hatherley is that rarest of things: a brave, incisive, elegant and erudite writer, whose books dissect the contemporary built environment to reveal the political fantasies and social realities it embodies' Will Self
During the course of the twentieth century, communism took power in Eastern Europe and remade the city in its own image. Ransacking the urban planning of the grand imperial past, it set out to transform everyday life, its sweeping boulevards, epic high-rise and vast housing estates an emphatic declaration of a non-capitalist idea. Now, the regimes that built them are dead and long gone, but from Warsaw to Berlin, Moscow to post-Revolution Kiev, the buildings, their most obvious legacy, remain, populated by people whose lives were scattered and jeopardized by the collapse of communism and the introduction of capitalism.
Landscapes of Communism is an intimate history of twentieth-century communist Europe told through its buildings; it is, too, a book about power, and what power does in cities. Most of all, Landscapes of Communism is a revelatory journey of discovery, plunging us into the maelstrom of socialist architecture. As we submerge into the metros, walk the massive, multi-lane magistrale and pause at milk bars in the microrayons, who knows what we might find?
During the course of the twentieth century, communism took power in Eastern Europe and remade the city in its own image. Ransacking the urban planning of the grand imperial past, it set out to transform everyday life, its sweeping boulevards, epic high-rise and vast housing estates an emphatic declaration of a non-capitalist idea. Now, the regimes that built them are dead and long gone, but from Warsaw to Berlin, Moscow to post-Revolution Kiev, the buildings, their most obvious legacy, remain, populated by people whose lives were scattered and jeopardized by the collapse of communism and the introduction of capitalism.
Landscapes of Communism is an intimate history of twentieth-century communist Europe told through its buildings; it is, too, a book about power, and what power does in cities. Most of all, Landscapes of Communism is a revelatory journey of discovery, plunging us into the maelstrom of socialist architecture. As we submerge into the metros, walk the massive, multi-lane magistrale and pause at milk bars in the microrayons, who knows what we might find?
624 pages, Paperback
First published May 26, 2015
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Displaying 1 - 30 of 33 reviews
November 30, 2016
I took my time reading ‘Landscapes of Communism’, in part because it’s a weighty tome and therefore inconvenient to take on trains. Moreover, it is a pretty dense read and perhaps somewhat of an acquired taste. (I find reading about buildings curiously relaxing for some reason.) Hatherley takes the reader on a scrupulously detailed tour of communist architecture, which includes a selection of black and white images but is largely reliant on detailed descriptions. It’s both a travelogue and history lesson, written in Hatherley’s distinctive tone: incisive and intermittently waspish. Each chapter covers a different category of communism’s physical remnants; roads, housing, memorials, and so on. Although I found the first half enlightening, parts of its dragged and it was the second half that proved fascinating. Chapter 5 is a definite highlight, as Hatherley and I share a taste for grandiose public transport infrastructure. I do love reading about the Moscow metro system. Also of note was the chapter that followed, which discussed the varying approaches to reconstruction taken by devastated Eastern European cities after WWII. Hatherley points out that most of what we now consider historic architecture in such cities is not what it seems, having been carefully rebuilt by the communists. The chapter on memorials contains perhaps the most vividly unsettling descriptions, including of Lenin’s tomb and the museum devoted to Stalin in his home town, as well as some very thought-provoking analysis of how the communist past is being rewritten through a lens of nationalism.
In short, this book is well-suited to armchair tourists like me, who are interested in the historical significance of architectural aesthetics but don’t want the bother of actually travelling to look at structures. Perhaps more adventurous people than I will be inspired by this book to visit the places it describes; I’ve mainly been inspired to read more about soviet transport infrastructure. The book concludes strongly with a comparison of Shanghai’s current architecture, a vision of capitalist communism in the 21st century. Tying up the threads of his history of communism and its buildings, Hatherley cites this conceptually intriguing idea about China:
That point reminded me of Red Capitalism: The Fragile Financial Foundation of China's Extraordinary Rise, which asks, ‘What in China isn’t a sovereign wealth fund?’ It seems that the history of 20th century communist buildings can still tell us quite a lot about socialism in the 21st century. ‘Landscapes of Communism’ is best appreciated at a leisurely pace, as it gives the reader plenty to chew on.
In short, this book is well-suited to armchair tourists like me, who are interested in the historical significance of architectural aesthetics but don’t want the bother of actually travelling to look at structures. Perhaps more adventurous people than I will be inspired by this book to visit the places it describes; I’ve mainly been inspired to read more about soviet transport infrastructure. The book concludes strongly with a comparison of Shanghai’s current architecture, a vision of capitalist communism in the 21st century. Tying up the threads of his history of communism and its buildings, Hatherley cites this conceptually intriguing idea about China:
...What seems like merely the administration of capitalism by an oligarchy which is the Communist Party in nothing but name, is actually a gigantic, prolonged version of the New Economic Policy embarked upon by the Bolsheviks throughout the 1920s - the use of a dirigiste, state-planned capitalism to build up productive forces to a level where the population has gone from being poor to being reasonably comfortable, after which the Communist Party could take command of this wealth and use it for the building of full communism, something which can, after all, in ‘stage’ theory only be achieved after the development of a mature industrial capitalism. This is at least what Deng Xiaoping always claimed was going on...
That point reminded me of Red Capitalism: The Fragile Financial Foundation of China's Extraordinary Rise, which asks, ‘What in China isn’t a sovereign wealth fund?’ It seems that the history of 20th century communist buildings can still tell us quite a lot about socialism in the 21st century. ‘Landscapes of Communism’ is best appreciated at a leisurely pace, as it gives the reader plenty to chew on.
August 19, 2015
4 stars for interesting content, not for clarity and style.
For what might be more accurately called “townscapes", journalist Owen Hatherley presents a detailed, at times indigestible, analysis of Soviet era architecture. Despite limited finances, he managed to roam quite widely with firsthand impressions of Moscow, Berlin, Kiev during the recent demonstrations on the Maidan, the remains of Ceaucescu’s Bucharest, Warsaw, Vilnius, even Shanghai, to name the main cities visited.
Each starting with a relevant quotation, the chapters are themed: the “magistrales” or wide boulevards cut through cities to permit state-orchestrated demonstrations of power; the massive, impersonal to the point of being soulless suburban blocks of apartments to house large numbers of workers as fast as possible; “houses of the people” to encourage suitable social activities; palatial metros, some stations ironically built in Moscow at the height of Stalin’s Reign of Terror. There is even a chapter on quirky examples of improvisation: extra rooms tacked onto the sides of high-rise flats, and self-managed tower blocks in New Belgrade like the Genex, resembling two enormous linked grain silos. Themes are set in context by an initial introduction on the nature and aims of Soviet architecture.
I learned a good deal from this book. I had not realised how much Soviet styles varied in a relatively short period and liked Paperny’s useful if simplistic definition of “Culture One” Modernism, dynamic, with horizontal structures, low, long and linear, as opposed to “Culture Two” Stalinist, with its “monumental, solid, massive, immovable” vertical structures. These harked back to past grandeur for the frontages of “people’s palaces”, intended as spacious flats for ordinary workers as in East Berlin’s flagship project, Stalinallee, together with major buildings like Moscow State University with their stepped ziggurats and the “Socialist Realism” of the huge, stylised statues of patriotic workers.
I had not considered how “Utopian Soviet planners” rejected distinct urban quarters as a survival of “obsolete capitalist structures”, so that individuality was only possible through chance variations in a site. Even under Krushchev’s less extreme regime, decrees led to an “International Style” extending between the far-flung borders with Scandinavia, Afghanistan and Japan, with identical standardised plans down to the use of the same mass-produced doorknob.
Ironically, the “social condensers” constructed to provide under one roof a variety of activities to create good socialist citizens often became rare examples of creative, “one-off” architecture, such as Melnikov’s Rusakov Workers' Centre in Moscow.
I accept that for reasons of economy only small, grainy black-and-white photographs are used, but they are often not placed right next to the relevant text. Some buildings, like the famous Dessau-Törten cubic houses of Gropius are described without the inclusion of any photograph at all, which is like a radio programme explaining how to make a complicated origami bird. Hatherley’s prose is a little too leaden to get away with this. Key points may be lost in his verbose and sometimes opaque style. To cite one small example, he writes that, “Modernists of the interwar period have….become pejorative for their hostility to the street”. Does he mean that they became pejorative about the use of streets in urban design, or that their hostility to streets has aroused criticism from others? The latter include Jonathan Raban who argues that to “kill the street….cuts the heart of cities as they are actually used and lived in”. Hatherley’s lack of clarity matters because it is confusing. The omission of the construction dates of many developments discussed is also unhelpful.
Concepts like Modernism and Constructivism need concise definitions, and a glossary of terms and architects would have been useful for reference. The book would have been more effective with fewer examples, each with a better photograph and concise text. When I took the trouble to find buildings on Google images, I could understand much better what the author was getting at, but it is cumbersome to read a book in this way.
For what might be more accurately called “townscapes", journalist Owen Hatherley presents a detailed, at times indigestible, analysis of Soviet era architecture. Despite limited finances, he managed to roam quite widely with firsthand impressions of Moscow, Berlin, Kiev during the recent demonstrations on the Maidan, the remains of Ceaucescu’s Bucharest, Warsaw, Vilnius, even Shanghai, to name the main cities visited.
Each starting with a relevant quotation, the chapters are themed: the “magistrales” or wide boulevards cut through cities to permit state-orchestrated demonstrations of power; the massive, impersonal to the point of being soulless suburban blocks of apartments to house large numbers of workers as fast as possible; “houses of the people” to encourage suitable social activities; palatial metros, some stations ironically built in Moscow at the height of Stalin’s Reign of Terror. There is even a chapter on quirky examples of improvisation: extra rooms tacked onto the sides of high-rise flats, and self-managed tower blocks in New Belgrade like the Genex, resembling two enormous linked grain silos. Themes are set in context by an initial introduction on the nature and aims of Soviet architecture.
I learned a good deal from this book. I had not realised how much Soviet styles varied in a relatively short period and liked Paperny’s useful if simplistic definition of “Culture One” Modernism, dynamic, with horizontal structures, low, long and linear, as opposed to “Culture Two” Stalinist, with its “monumental, solid, massive, immovable” vertical structures. These harked back to past grandeur for the frontages of “people’s palaces”, intended as spacious flats for ordinary workers as in East Berlin’s flagship project, Stalinallee, together with major buildings like Moscow State University with their stepped ziggurats and the “Socialist Realism” of the huge, stylised statues of patriotic workers.
I had not considered how “Utopian Soviet planners” rejected distinct urban quarters as a survival of “obsolete capitalist structures”, so that individuality was only possible through chance variations in a site. Even under Krushchev’s less extreme regime, decrees led to an “International Style” extending between the far-flung borders with Scandinavia, Afghanistan and Japan, with identical standardised plans down to the use of the same mass-produced doorknob.
Ironically, the “social condensers” constructed to provide under one roof a variety of activities to create good socialist citizens often became rare examples of creative, “one-off” architecture, such as Melnikov’s Rusakov Workers' Centre in Moscow.
I accept that for reasons of economy only small, grainy black-and-white photographs are used, but they are often not placed right next to the relevant text. Some buildings, like the famous Dessau-Törten cubic houses of Gropius are described without the inclusion of any photograph at all, which is like a radio programme explaining how to make a complicated origami bird. Hatherley’s prose is a little too leaden to get away with this. Key points may be lost in his verbose and sometimes opaque style. To cite one small example, he writes that, “Modernists of the interwar period have….become pejorative for their hostility to the street”. Does he mean that they became pejorative about the use of streets in urban design, or that their hostility to streets has aroused criticism from others? The latter include Jonathan Raban who argues that to “kill the street….cuts the heart of cities as they are actually used and lived in”. Hatherley’s lack of clarity matters because it is confusing. The omission of the construction dates of many developments discussed is also unhelpful.
Concepts like Modernism and Constructivism need concise definitions, and a glossary of terms and architects would have been useful for reference. The book would have been more effective with fewer examples, each with a better photograph and concise text. When I took the trouble to find buildings on Google images, I could understand much better what the author was getting at, but it is cumbersome to read a book in this way.
June 25, 2019
Needs more pictures
July 19, 2021
I received this book as a present a few years ago and had always assumed it would be a ‘dip in and out' affair but Covid19 encouraged me to read it from cover to cover and I am certainly glad I did. Certainly, Hatherley is sufficiently left wing – and enough of an apologist for eastern European socialism to remind me of myself - but he entranced me with his descriptions of the architecture. Idealistic and brutalistic, in itself, it is often ugly – and I am no fan of the styles – but the book is wide ranging in its coverage, dealing with Stalinist realism, TV towers, mausolea and palaces in a never less than entertaining way. Hatherley’s writing is superb, his wit keen, and while there is a slight bias towards certain countries (especially Poland), he flings the net as wide as he can. Especially good are chapters on metro systems (it is Hatherley’s correct contestation that the Commies did these better than anyone) and a short and teasing coda of a chapter on the People’s Republic of China, without doubt the most dystopian country for architecture I have visited.
Read
October 21, 2021Lots of fun. Chapter on Metros particularly nice.
October 17, 2025
I read this book back in 2018 and liked it greatly but I would recommend reading the following review from the (UK) Guardian:
https://www.theguardian.com/books/201...
to get a real feel of what the book has to offer.
https://www.theguardian.com/books/201...
to get a real feel of what the book has to offer.
December 13, 2015
This is a weighty tome, beautifully typeset (with correct diactritics!) and bound, with better-quality photographs than the author’s previous books, but with a word count probably twice as large. I enjoyed it, but it took me a very long time to read it, in contrast to New Ruins and Bleak, through which I whizzed.
The classification of eight types of buildings and landscapes is inspired, and the discussion of each of them, with countless examples, is comprehensive. Clearly the author has done very thorough research; I learned a lot about history of the former Soviet Bloc countries. The enthusiasm for the metro systems in particular comes across with great verve, and the feelings inspired by the various memorials and museums are almost as good as being there oneself. I am now inspired to visit some weird and wonderful places well off the tourist trail. Also the first-person narrative and personal anecdote is entertaining, and I would actually have enjoyed more of it, just like in A New Kind of Bleak.
For anyone with more than a passing interest in the former Soviet Bloc countries, which were so mysterious to those of us growing up in the 1970s and ’80s, I would say that this book is a must-read, but you’ll have to give it a lot of time and attention to get the best from it.
The classification of eight types of buildings and landscapes is inspired, and the discussion of each of them, with countless examples, is comprehensive. Clearly the author has done very thorough research; I learned a lot about history of the former Soviet Bloc countries. The enthusiasm for the metro systems in particular comes across with great verve, and the feelings inspired by the various memorials and museums are almost as good as being there oneself. I am now inspired to visit some weird and wonderful places well off the tourist trail. Also the first-person narrative and personal anecdote is entertaining, and I would actually have enjoyed more of it, just like in A New Kind of Bleak.
For anyone with more than a passing interest in the former Soviet Bloc countries, which were so mysterious to those of us growing up in the 1970s and ’80s, I would say that this book is a must-read, but you’ll have to give it a lot of time and attention to get the best from it.
January 19, 2021
Another comprehensive, engaging and entertaining book by my favourite/only architecture writer. I didn't quite enjoy it as much as the other books by Hatherley that I've read (A Guide to the New Ruins of Great Britain and Trans-Europe Express: Tours of a Lost Continent) but that's more down to my personal interests than anything else. Personal highlights were the chapters on skyscrapers, reconstruction and improvisation. Definitely want to visit Warsaw at some point when all of this pandemic shit is over.
May 26, 2016
A great photo-journalistic, exhaustively researched look at how communism/socialism has impacted the architecture of a number of countries, including skyscrapers, housing, metro stations & memorials. The photos alone are quite intriguing.
June 13, 2019
4.5 Stars!
From the Baltic down to the Balkans, and Germany out to Georgia this book unfolds like a bleak architectural romance suffused with war, hardship and history. Among the more memorable revelations in here were how female architects were given far more power and influence than they were ever allowed in most capitalist countries. We also learn all about microrayons and the mysterious K67 kiosks as well as other mind boggling creations.
There is so much history in this part of the world. A vast region saturated with conflict (two world wars, civil wars as well as many other conflicts). But it is also one which is incredibly rich and alive with so much varied culture, and of course the spectre of communism hangs heavy. But either way Hatherley takes the time and effort to do much of it justice, acting as an entertaining and informative guide who is like a combination of Iain Sinclair, Paul Theroux and Rowan Moore.
Without doubt the many varied buildings in here are communist in appearance, but they very much borrowed and relied on many capitalist architects and thinkers, in particular the philosophies and work of Haussmann and Le Corbusier can be detected in many of the places. Stalinist architecture was especially taken with the political and military implications of the wide, open boulevards, which are known as magistrale in Slavic countries. “A series of boulevards which were carved through cities between the 1930s and 1980s.” is how the author describes them. Not only were they ideal for clearing the slums and keeping the poor away from the city centre, but they created the perfect environment to monitor and control any potentially unruly or rebellious citizens, and they were also ideal for pompous military parades complete with tanks and other phallic paraphernalia.
Hatherley rightly dedicates a whole chapter to the mesmerising, ballroom glamour of the Soviet era underground stations. Particular emphasis is placed on Moscow, St Petersburg and Kiev. These spaces are on such a dramatic and ornate scale that they freely soar from the sublime to the ridiculous, as they unapologetically drive home their communist era propaganda in an incredibly innovative and memorable way.
Some of the architectural highlights for me were many of the sublime examples of Constuctivism, as seen in the work of Konstantin Melnikov and his Rosakov Workers’ Club, the rather extraordinary Neo-Constructivism of the Ministry of Highways in Tblisi, Georgia, the Zizkov TV Tower in Prague and Raine Karp’s fortress like National Library of Estonia and of course the unforgettable Brutalism of the Genex Tower in New Belgrade.
Although often these are crude, muscular and stodgy creations, there are some surprising moments of fresh creativity and fleeting beauty which allow us to view communist architecture in a more colourful and three dimensional way. ‘The corns’ in Katowice, Poland has a pleasant enough look about it and the Ulica Bukowinska (where the author was living at the time of writing) in Warsaw, are not the worst high rises you will set eyes on. There is also mention of recent gentrification with mention of “Warsaw’s aspiring Shoreditch” and East Berlin amongst many more spots.
Elsewhere we learn about how Ceausescu built the Casa Scanteii, a mini-skyscraper, to hold the print works and the offices of the communist press, Scanteii (The Spark) was the party paper. After returning from a visit to North Korea in 1971, Ceausescu was so impressed by the Juche (self-reliance) philosophy he set Romania onto a neo-Stalinist path of rebuilding. The natural conclusion of this hubris was the construction of the Palace of The Parliament, the largest building in all of Europe and the second largest in the world behind the Pentagon.
Hatherley has dug out some wonderful photographs and vintage postcards which really give us an authentic glimpse of what governments and architects were trying to achieve. Funnily enough many of high flats could be mistaken for structures found in the towns and cities of the UK. The image of Kalinin Prospekt, Moscow in 1980 could be a still from a deleted scene from “Blade Runner”. The terrifying hulking monstrosity found in Seskine, Vilnius could be the dwelling of a growling, unseen baddie from an 80s cartoon, and the centre of Lazdynai, Vilnius in 1986 bares a shocking resemblance to one of the many Post-War new town centres found throughout Great Britain.
I understand that 500 odd pages dedicated to communist architecture may not be everyone’s cup of tea, but I have to say, I really got a lot out of this book and learned about countless wonderful examples of Eastern Bloc architecture and their sub-genres, as well as gaining a deeper understanding about the background and creators behind them. In a strange almost inadvertent way this book, also works as a loose travel guide to many of the cities of Eastern Europe. Some of the buildings are genuinely incredible looking constructions, there were so many times where I found myself viewing these buildings in the way that some astronomy enthusiast would look at images beamed from the surface of Mars or Venus. This was an absolute joy and a thoroughly rewarding read.
September 13, 2020
Incredibly detailed and full of history and facts, Owen Hatherley wrote about communists cities, buildings and public spaces. I found some chapters too detailed but, on the whole, loved the descriptions of the places he was describing. I would love a book of just the photos, all the photos, with brief descriptions as a companion to Landscapes of Communism. The fascination Hatherley has for these places are evident and his writing is open and enjoyable, even if it is crammed full of details.
September 1, 2024
Interesante tratado teórico sobre la arquitectura en la Unión Soviética y países amigos: tipos, funciones, políticas, etc… Eso sí, se trata de un libro denso en el que el autor se despacha con demasiada frecuencia de forma bastante pedante, haciendo gala de una superioridad moral y estética que resulta desesperante. Solo apto para l@s muy cafeter@s 😵💫
January 30, 2018
I'm probably doing this book a huge disservice if I write that this was one of the most interesting boring books I've ever come across. But then again, who actually reads reviews from weird blonde randos rather than just glancing the star rating before they decided whether to go for it, right?
Landscapes of Communism caught my eye in a bookstore mainly due to my own, horrendously slow and probably not that awesome anyway, writing - namely, it looked like a nice inspiration for strange locations. Now that I'm done with it, I can say that it partially worked, but also gave me quite a bit more. This book, I imagine, would be interesting for either a niche audience of about 5 people in the west that are into this stuff, a small crowd that like decent journalism and/or writing and, finally, a lot of people like me that actually come from the eastern Europe and grew up around all the ridiculous stuff the book describes. Briefly, if you are one of us ("one of us, one of us!"), this book will help you look at where you live or grew up with a completely new eyes, enabling you to experience the urban landscape better, notice details that escaped you before and lets not forget boring your friends to death with yet another dose of nerdy fun facts.
Why do I consider the book boring? Ever since I recently made the conscious decision to read more nonfiction books, I opted for those with events, those that told stories, wisely assuming that descriptive textbooks would not grab me quite as much (and then my reading progress would suffer, I'd fail my reading challenge and who wants to live like that?). Well, this book fits the latter category - full of concrete, plastic, revolutionary art, concrete, facades and concrete, it's mostly a descriptive non-story overlaid at places with historical remarks and personal notes about how the author and his girlfriend explored all of these locations. Yet, somehow, it works, and you enjoy looking at all the weirdness, opulence and forced glorification of the simple, asking for more.
The chapters in the book cover what seems like a complete, or at least a major fraction of the, well, types of communist architecture. The topics remain interesting throughout, from the major streets and microrayons at the start of the book, through underground railways all the way to the self-celebratory monuments.
Throughout and after reading this book, I often felt some kind of nostalgia - most probably for the places where I grew up and that are changing quickly, making a lot of things I knew disappear. Consciously I know this is a good thing, cities in the east are getting prettier, more clean and modern... however, reading about the weird and abstract art scattered throughout the former communist bloc, about milk bars and badly made prefab concrete statues, that all brings me back to where I grew up, playgrounds I used to play at, where most of the equipment was somehow broken, the ugly bus stop where I had my first kiss... and once in a while one is very much allowed a completely biased trip down the memory lane.
Landscapes of Communism caught my eye in a bookstore mainly due to my own, horrendously slow and probably not that awesome anyway, writing - namely, it looked like a nice inspiration for strange locations. Now that I'm done with it, I can say that it partially worked, but also gave me quite a bit more. This book, I imagine, would be interesting for either a niche audience of about 5 people in the west that are into this stuff, a small crowd that like decent journalism and/or writing and, finally, a lot of people like me that actually come from the eastern Europe and grew up around all the ridiculous stuff the book describes. Briefly, if you are one of us ("one of us, one of us!"), this book will help you look at where you live or grew up with a completely new eyes, enabling you to experience the urban landscape better, notice details that escaped you before and lets not forget boring your friends to death with yet another dose of nerdy fun facts.
Why do I consider the book boring? Ever since I recently made the conscious decision to read more nonfiction books, I opted for those with events, those that told stories, wisely assuming that descriptive textbooks would not grab me quite as much (and then my reading progress would suffer, I'd fail my reading challenge and who wants to live like that?). Well, this book fits the latter category - full of concrete, plastic, revolutionary art, concrete, facades and concrete, it's mostly a descriptive non-story overlaid at places with historical remarks and personal notes about how the author and his girlfriend explored all of these locations. Yet, somehow, it works, and you enjoy looking at all the weirdness, opulence and forced glorification of the simple, asking for more.
The chapters in the book cover what seems like a complete, or at least a major fraction of the, well, types of communist architecture. The topics remain interesting throughout, from the major streets and microrayons at the start of the book, through underground railways all the way to the self-celebratory monuments.
Throughout and after reading this book, I often felt some kind of nostalgia - most probably for the places where I grew up and that are changing quickly, making a lot of things I knew disappear. Consciously I know this is a good thing, cities in the east are getting prettier, more clean and modern... however, reading about the weird and abstract art scattered throughout the former communist bloc, about milk bars and badly made prefab concrete statues, that all brings me back to where I grew up, playgrounds I used to play at, where most of the equipment was somehow broken, the ugly bus stop where I had my first kiss... and once in a while one is very much allowed a completely biased trip down the memory lane.
September 6, 2019
Landscapes of Communism is a delightful trek through the history of architecture and urban planning in the Soviet Union and its satellite states, told through example locations that the author has visited. This, of course, makes the selection potentially not fully representative, but at the same time Hatherley is so well-informed about the context of everything that he writes about that the problem of representation never becomes an issue. Hatherley's commitment to context also means that he is quite able to avoid demonising the rule of the communist parties, but at the same time without ranging into apologist territory.
My biggest pet peeves on writing about the ex-Soviet Union are present here, too: there are no cyrillic letters in sight, and the translitteration system is not consistent. But, unlike even in most academic texts, Hatherley at least explains why he's done things the way he has.
Another thing I enjoyed is the fact that, unlike many, many writers from the Anglo-American Empire, Hatherley is concious of the fact he is looking at things from an English perspective, and therefore makes a pretty decent job of avoiding the potholes of presuming every readers has the same background as he does. There are still occasional issues; for instance, using Milton Keynes as a comparison to a place in the Soviet Union tells me absolutely nothing - the long and short of my knowledge of Milton Keynes is the fact that, in Neil Gaiman and Terry Pratchett's Good Omens, both the demon Crowley and the angel Aziraphale report the it as a success to their superiors. But, all things considered, Hatherley does a good job even in this field.
So, yeah. 100% recommended if your interests include architecture, urban planning or the Soviet Union. Or if you just want to read a rather wittily written book.
My biggest pet peeves on writing about the ex-Soviet Union are present here, too: there are no cyrillic letters in sight, and the translitteration system is not consistent. But, unlike even in most academic texts, Hatherley at least explains why he's done things the way he has.
Another thing I enjoyed is the fact that, unlike many, many writers from the Anglo-American Empire, Hatherley is concious of the fact he is looking at things from an English perspective, and therefore makes a pretty decent job of avoiding the potholes of presuming every readers has the same background as he does. There are still occasional issues; for instance, using Milton Keynes as a comparison to a place in the Soviet Union tells me absolutely nothing - the long and short of my knowledge of Milton Keynes is the fact that, in Neil Gaiman and Terry Pratchett's Good Omens, both the demon Crowley and the angel Aziraphale report the it as a success to their superiors. But, all things considered, Hatherley does a good job even in this field.
So, yeah. 100% recommended if your interests include architecture, urban planning or the Soviet Union. Or if you just want to read a rather wittily written book.
January 13, 2019
Owen Hatherley has provided a truly epic account of the main themes of urban landscape and design during the Communist period. His non-traditional chapter genres allow for in-depth analysis of several cities across decades and leaders, without confusing the reader. The generous number of photographs bring both public and domestic buildings to life, many of which would never be seen in a typical travelogue or city architectural guide.
Concentrating mainly on Poland, with excursions in to Russia, Ukraine, the Czech Republic, Slovenia and others, I feel Hatherley genuinely attempted to visit every site he could and analyse the architecture objectively. There are glimmers of his personal preference, but these do not overshadow the history and information he imparts.
I especially enjoyed the sections on post-WW2 city reconstruction, underground metros and memorial statues, as Hatherley cleverly expresses the motivations and monumental human effort involved undertaking such projects in a devastated landscape.
Concentrating mainly on Poland, with excursions in to Russia, Ukraine, the Czech Republic, Slovenia and others, I feel Hatherley genuinely attempted to visit every site he could and analyse the architecture objectively. There are glimmers of his personal preference, but these do not overshadow the history and information he imparts.
I especially enjoyed the sections on post-WW2 city reconstruction, underground metros and memorial statues, as Hatherley cleverly expresses the motivations and monumental human effort involved undertaking such projects in a devastated landscape.
October 30, 2021
Once again, I've picked up a book from the bookshelf in the library (nearly) randomly and wasn't disappointed. Some citations below:
On Avtozavod microrayon in Nizhny Novgorod:
Clearly, here, being able to put together a car on a production line had an ideological meaning somewhat different from the American one as signifier of freedom and individuality
On Soviet government's love to the big projects:
In his 1933 tract The Mass Psychology of Fascism, Wilhelm Reich, disappointed communist and psychoanalyst, pointed to the Soviet fetish for construction projects as evidence of the regime's failure to promise a psychologically different form of society. [...] Apartment houses, public transport and schools, [...] tell us something about the technical development of a society. They do not tell us whether the members of this society are suppressed subjects or free workers, whether they are rational or irrational men and women.
On Warsaw reconstruction:
How strange, when the simulation is scrupulously maintained and the 'real' left to rot.
On Avtozavod microrayon in Nizhny Novgorod:
Clearly, here, being able to put together a car on a production line had an ideological meaning somewhat different from the American one as signifier of freedom and individuality
On Soviet government's love to the big projects:
In his 1933 tract The Mass Psychology of Fascism, Wilhelm Reich, disappointed communist and psychoanalyst, pointed to the Soviet fetish for construction projects as evidence of the regime's failure to promise a psychologically different form of society. [...] Apartment houses, public transport and schools, [...] tell us something about the technical development of a society. They do not tell us whether the members of this society are suppressed subjects or free workers, whether they are rational or irrational men and women.
On Warsaw reconstruction:
How strange, when the simulation is scrupulously maintained and the 'real' left to rot.
May 7, 2018
Outside of some specific architectural terms I don't think this book is as impenetrable as some have suggested. Hatherley writes well even if he does seem a bit of a prig at times. His sympathies obviously lie with socialism and I'm inclined to disagree with a few of the concrete efforts he champions but this doesn't make this any less of an enjoyable journey around the former communist states. This is going to sound a bit facile but it could do with more pictures. It's great that a lot of the images are ones he and his girlfriend took or come from old postcards, but there are so many structures described that I spent a fair bit of time checking them out on my phone as I was reading.
March 3, 2016
It is Owen Hatherley’s lack of cynicism that makes 'Landscapes of Communism' both appealing and unusual. Where many would seek to mock all of the buildings constructed in eastern Europe during the communist era, he seeks to understand the intentions of those who designed the buildings. He illuminates the pre-cast rigidity of the most doctrinaire decision-makers, as well as the exemplary aspects of those exceptional buildings which combined modernist aesthetics with a genuine consideration for the social benefits of the structures.
May 23, 2016
This review of some of the types of Communist structures in Europe and Russia reminded me of a more academic-style tour than Simon Winder's Danubia or Germania. Hatherley is best when he is visiting the buildings himself and commenting on what he is seeing and what he knows he should see. His visit to Maidan in Ukraine has given me the best idea yet of what that protest space is like. I lost some interest when his narrative moved back to arm's length, but still learned about the significance of wide streets, worker's buildings, and Baltic resorts.
July 26, 2016
Mr. Hatherley writes a highly readable book on this interesting subject. His left leaning persuasions make him a sympathetic observer, but not blind to the cruelties and absurdities sometimes involved in communist city planning. This book is his own travelogue, so he omits the places that he hasn't visited, such as Cuba, North Korea or any of the heavily subsidised former people's republics on the African continent. In that regard, this "research" feels incomplete.
November 4, 2019
Architecture, travelogue, politics, social history and a heartfelt plea for how cities, infrastructure and social spaces can inform a better future. Hatherley is an astoundingly insightful and pragmatic writer for one so (comparatively) young. This is the third book of his I’ve read this year and I’m convinced he’s one of the most essential non-fiction writers at work in this country.
July 5, 2021
Incisive and witty architectural critique combined with extensive historical, political, and economic background. I only wish that Hatherley had made it to the Caucasus and Central Asia (and maybe skipped the part on China, which seemed like an afterthought).
May 8, 2016
This is more like a travelogue than an architecture or history book, anyhow very impressive in its scope.
October 29, 2019
This book needs an editor. The entire thing can be close to ~200-250 pages.
Weird, unsupported by relevant evidence and apologist rambling is bad.
Weird, unsupported by relevant evidence and apologist rambling is bad.
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September 22, 2022It feels bizarre to say, but I feel like this book spends too much time describing buildings. I was reading primarily for the analysis, whereas so many sentences of this were dedicated to descriptions of features. Unfortunately, these are so entangled with the parts that actually analyze architecture that it made this a slog.
Feels more like it was written to be the book equivalent of wandering through a new city. It might hit the mark for those who want that, not sure. I'm not the target audience.
Feels more like it was written to be the book equivalent of wandering through a new city. It might hit the mark for those who want that, not sure. I'm not the target audience.
May 20, 2024
El libro está separado en diferentes elementos constructivos considerados claves dentro de la temática soviética y, una vez en ellos, sabe unir de una forma excepcional sus ideas con los ejemplos para a su vez enraizar con más ideas que culminan en otros ejemplos, realizando un viaje en general muy orgánico por el mundo soviético.
A caballo entre el ensayo y las vivencias personales, lo que en mi caso me ha resultado muy cómodo pudiera no sentirlo así otra persona. En mi caso únicamente echo de menos más fotografías.
A caballo entre el ensayo y las vivencias personales, lo que en mi caso me ha resultado muy cómodo pudiera no sentirlo así otra persona. En mi caso únicamente echo de menos más fotografías.
November 24, 2025
This text is at its most suggestive when it convincingly argues that the "really-existing socialism" of the Soviet Union, in Eastern Europe and Russia, succeeded in creating a more egalitarian publics at the level of built space, and that these constructions still live on today despite its untimely demise. Unfortunately, the vast majority of the text functions as a somewhat tedious diatribal travelogue, describing buildings or rehearsing historical exposition more often than engaging in actual architectural theory, which is unfortunate, given the premise's promise.
July 10, 2025
Very interesting book about Communist Architecture across the former USSR. The author has done an amazing job researching and traveling to buildings that represent different forms and waves of architectural socialism. Sometimes the book tends to be over descriptive and too anecdotal but overall it is a great one.
October 29, 2021
A bit bland, more descriptive of buildings than actually discussing the history I felt. Not super organized, long chapters, but nonetheless a good read. Could have easily been condensed by about 150 pages less. Lots of rambling, more of a travelers guide than something scientific.
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December 15, 2020Excellent
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