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Clean Living Under Difficult Circumstances
From the grandiose histories of grand state building projects to the minutiae of street signs and corner pubs, from the rebuilding of capital cities to the provision of the humble public toilet, Clean Living under Difficult Circumstances argues for the city as a socialist project.
Combining memoir, history, and portraits of particular places and things, Hatherley argues for those who have tried to create and imagine a better modernity, in terms of architecture, such as Zaha Hadid and Ian Nairn, in terms of the urban space, like Jane Jacobs and Marshall Berman, and in terms of the way we see the world more widely, like Mark Fisher and Adam Curtis. Hatherley outlines a vision of the city as both a place of political argument and dispute, and as a space of everyday experience—one that we shape as much as it shapes us.
Combining memoir, history, and portraits of particular places and things, Hatherley argues for those who have tried to create and imagine a better modernity, in terms of architecture, such as Zaha Hadid and Ian Nairn, in terms of the urban space, like Jane Jacobs and Marshall Berman, and in terms of the way we see the world more widely, like Mark Fisher and Adam Curtis. Hatherley outlines a vision of the city as both a place of political argument and dispute, and as a space of everyday experience—one that we shape as much as it shapes us.
336 pages, Hardcover
Published June 22, 2021
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May 14, 2025A really wonderful series of essays, a bit B-side but still fantastic, by one of the best minds to emerge from the Mark Fisher / Byung-Chul Han / Adam Curtis school of post-Deleuze dark freakout philosophy. Writing for people who view vaporwave as ideology. I’m at least a tentative partisan here, and Hatherley has a remarkable flair for writing about built environment and contemporary culture. He sings with the concrete and dances with Le Corbusier.
June 22, 2021
I have long liked Owen Hatherley because his appreciation of architecture is so far above and beyond mine. He can look at a building, a neighborhood or a city and see history, politics, economics, culture and fit, where I am dumbly fascinated by the look and feel. His latest book, Clean Living Under Difficult Circumstances, appears to be more of his great analysis, but it turns out that architecture is just a small part of it.
Hatherley is a blogger in England, so he writes at length on whatever he feels like. And he feels like pop music and pop culture, and particularly how his leftist views explore their meanings. The book is a collection of his blog essays, neatly grouped by subject, with an introduction to each group. Underlying everything is modernism.
He took his title from a most obscure source, what “the Who’s manager, Peter Meaden meant in 1975 when he was asked for retrospective definition of Mod, short for modernism. ‘Modism, mod living, is an aphorism for clean living under difficult circumstances.’ For the Mods, working-class London aesthetes of the sixties boom, that meant dressing up in Italian clothes, listening to American jazz and soul and watching French films, but beyond that it meant an ethos of modernity as a consciously chosen way of life.”
So his appreciation of music, at least as obscure, concentrates on British bands (focusing on pre-Elvis pop), most of which American readers will have never come across. If only because he does a lot of listing and name dropping without insight. Similarly, his essay on English towns is so detailed that readers would really have to have visited them beforehand to get the full impact. To that extent, the book is too local for most non-Brits.
Where he really shines is in the essays on global architecture. He has finely attuned and incisive appreciations of architects. He knows the firms, their commissions, and of course their stars. His longest efforts here are on Moshe Safdie and Zaha Hadid, both of whom are Middle Eastern, which is not the typical focus.
They are also as different as night and day. Safdie is famous for his flat roof boxes, assembled seemingly precariously, and affording residents far more perceived privacy than any block of flats. Hadid never met an angle she didn’t like, pointing out there are 360 to choose from. Her sweeping visions are exceptionally dramatic. Hatherley’s appreciation goes far deeper, of course, connecting the world and building context where it is not readily apparent. Including politics and the politics of architecture.
Hatherley’s approach always is for the modern. He finds it in 1920s public housing, which in Europe is meant for the comfort, benefit and longevity of the residents. In the USA, it is meant as minimalist stopgap, as government does not want to favor anyone with a worthwhile home. So (mostly northern) European public housing is a most involved subject, and various examples have rich histories and significance in their countries. Public housing there is often iconic and desirable.
He contrasts the efforts in Vienna with nearby Budapest, revealing a great deal about both. Their politics, their policies, and their choices of architects all add great depth everyone who simply visits misses completely. (However, I did not like his one paragraph total dismissal of Friedensreich Hundertwasser, a designer I really appreciate, who added immense character to blocks of flats in Vienna, now national treasures in Austria).
Modernist of course is not a fixed term: “The modernists of the 1920s attempted wherever possible to avoid the term, preferring the neutral and technocratic Neues Bauen or constructivism; when these were dubbed The international Style by critic Henry-Russell Hitchcock and fascist activist Philip Johnson, it was as a deliberate attempt to celebrate the finer thing, to hold up villas and ‘an architecture style’ against the ‘fanatical functionalists’ who wanted to build for ‘some proletarian superman of the future’. The high-tech generation who are essentially today’s architectural elders, Norman Foster, Richard Rogers et al., always disdained the notions of style, claiming ever less convincingly to be above such fripperies, as a means of communication with the public – which is lucky, their work emerging from solely technological imperatives. Schumacher claims he will use style as a means of communicating with the public, which is lucky as he was never likely to do so with his prose.” In this intricate picture, he manages to label American icon Philip Johnson a fascist while examining the foundations of modernism. This is not Architecture 101.
I would also point out his quoted paragraph above contains only two sentences. His sentences tend to be longer than my paragraphs, and his paragraphs can exceed a page. This can lead readers to skim. His paragraphs can be unending rants. I found myself fighting the urge to skim, too, looking for some kind of break.
He comes by his insights from a deep love of cities. His list of favorites is far from anyone’s top ten, and he explains why in an essay of Warsaw, one of his faves:
“There are usually certain common things getting me excited. Dramatic topography, unashamed modernity, space and scope, a history of struggle that avoids the stultifying museumification that afflicts conventionally attractive cities, an anti-classical urban montage of things that shouldn’t really fit, being thrown and meshed together. All these are part of what makes a city fascinating (to me).”
There is an essay on the current fad for Brutalism in architecture. Rough dull concrete, dangerous jutting points, and pillbox bomb shelters are what I’m accustomed to seeing in brutalist appreciations. I have long thought it to be cold, ugly and inefficient, but apparently it has been extremely popular the world over. Governments seem to love it for their offices and facilities, even if the public (and the workers in them) despise them. There are far more examples of it than I ever feared. And now, sadly, they are old enough to be heritage buildings, preserved (far too expensively) by law.
And it’s not just me; everyone’s a critic: “Maidin’s Birmingham Central Library was designed using the golden section – is nevertheless connected by Prince Charles to bad things, in this case a place that ‘looks like somewhere that books are burned, not read.’” So the competition for analysis is fierce, if unqualified.
A remarkably long and detailed essay on public toilets manages to complement his efforts on architecture. He is no outside observer. As a Crohn’s Disease sufferer, his need of public facilities is greater than most, and their provision, if any, tends to be pathetic. In far too many cities, the needy must go into a store or business and practically beg to use the employee bathroom. They do not often succeed. This essay, The Socialist Lavatory League, could be published anywhere, and probably should be.
There is an essay on the sainted urbanist Jane Jacobs, and how wrong she was about so many things. And how she turned to neoliberalism, something a New Yorker would find impossible to believe let alone understand. But he makes the case in his usual thorough and thoughtful way, pilling no punches, but leaning left, as ever.
I do love some of his carefully curated essay titles. The New and Closed Libraries of Britain could be a tourism guide if it weren’t so unfortunately worrying. Edinburgh’s Golden Turds would attract any eyeball. My Kind of Town – Warszawa mixes oil and water. Altogether, a totally different kind of book.
David Wineberg
Hatherley is a blogger in England, so he writes at length on whatever he feels like. And he feels like pop music and pop culture, and particularly how his leftist views explore their meanings. The book is a collection of his blog essays, neatly grouped by subject, with an introduction to each group. Underlying everything is modernism.
He took his title from a most obscure source, what “the Who’s manager, Peter Meaden meant in 1975 when he was asked for retrospective definition of Mod, short for modernism. ‘Modism, mod living, is an aphorism for clean living under difficult circumstances.’ For the Mods, working-class London aesthetes of the sixties boom, that meant dressing up in Italian clothes, listening to American jazz and soul and watching French films, but beyond that it meant an ethos of modernity as a consciously chosen way of life.”
So his appreciation of music, at least as obscure, concentrates on British bands (focusing on pre-Elvis pop), most of which American readers will have never come across. If only because he does a lot of listing and name dropping without insight. Similarly, his essay on English towns is so detailed that readers would really have to have visited them beforehand to get the full impact. To that extent, the book is too local for most non-Brits.
Where he really shines is in the essays on global architecture. He has finely attuned and incisive appreciations of architects. He knows the firms, their commissions, and of course their stars. His longest efforts here are on Moshe Safdie and Zaha Hadid, both of whom are Middle Eastern, which is not the typical focus.
They are also as different as night and day. Safdie is famous for his flat roof boxes, assembled seemingly precariously, and affording residents far more perceived privacy than any block of flats. Hadid never met an angle she didn’t like, pointing out there are 360 to choose from. Her sweeping visions are exceptionally dramatic. Hatherley’s appreciation goes far deeper, of course, connecting the world and building context where it is not readily apparent. Including politics and the politics of architecture.
Hatherley’s approach always is for the modern. He finds it in 1920s public housing, which in Europe is meant for the comfort, benefit and longevity of the residents. In the USA, it is meant as minimalist stopgap, as government does not want to favor anyone with a worthwhile home. So (mostly northern) European public housing is a most involved subject, and various examples have rich histories and significance in their countries. Public housing there is often iconic and desirable.
He contrasts the efforts in Vienna with nearby Budapest, revealing a great deal about both. Their politics, their policies, and their choices of architects all add great depth everyone who simply visits misses completely. (However, I did not like his one paragraph total dismissal of Friedensreich Hundertwasser, a designer I really appreciate, who added immense character to blocks of flats in Vienna, now national treasures in Austria).
Modernist of course is not a fixed term: “The modernists of the 1920s attempted wherever possible to avoid the term, preferring the neutral and technocratic Neues Bauen or constructivism; when these were dubbed The international Style by critic Henry-Russell Hitchcock and fascist activist Philip Johnson, it was as a deliberate attempt to celebrate the finer thing, to hold up villas and ‘an architecture style’ against the ‘fanatical functionalists’ who wanted to build for ‘some proletarian superman of the future’. The high-tech generation who are essentially today’s architectural elders, Norman Foster, Richard Rogers et al., always disdained the notions of style, claiming ever less convincingly to be above such fripperies, as a means of communication with the public – which is lucky, their work emerging from solely technological imperatives. Schumacher claims he will use style as a means of communicating with the public, which is lucky as he was never likely to do so with his prose.” In this intricate picture, he manages to label American icon Philip Johnson a fascist while examining the foundations of modernism. This is not Architecture 101.
I would also point out his quoted paragraph above contains only two sentences. His sentences tend to be longer than my paragraphs, and his paragraphs can exceed a page. This can lead readers to skim. His paragraphs can be unending rants. I found myself fighting the urge to skim, too, looking for some kind of break.
He comes by his insights from a deep love of cities. His list of favorites is far from anyone’s top ten, and he explains why in an essay of Warsaw, one of his faves:
“There are usually certain common things getting me excited. Dramatic topography, unashamed modernity, space and scope, a history of struggle that avoids the stultifying museumification that afflicts conventionally attractive cities, an anti-classical urban montage of things that shouldn’t really fit, being thrown and meshed together. All these are part of what makes a city fascinating (to me).”
There is an essay on the current fad for Brutalism in architecture. Rough dull concrete, dangerous jutting points, and pillbox bomb shelters are what I’m accustomed to seeing in brutalist appreciations. I have long thought it to be cold, ugly and inefficient, but apparently it has been extremely popular the world over. Governments seem to love it for their offices and facilities, even if the public (and the workers in them) despise them. There are far more examples of it than I ever feared. And now, sadly, they are old enough to be heritage buildings, preserved (far too expensively) by law.
And it’s not just me; everyone’s a critic: “Maidin’s Birmingham Central Library was designed using the golden section – is nevertheless connected by Prince Charles to bad things, in this case a place that ‘looks like somewhere that books are burned, not read.’” So the competition for analysis is fierce, if unqualified.
A remarkably long and detailed essay on public toilets manages to complement his efforts on architecture. He is no outside observer. As a Crohn’s Disease sufferer, his need of public facilities is greater than most, and their provision, if any, tends to be pathetic. In far too many cities, the needy must go into a store or business and practically beg to use the employee bathroom. They do not often succeed. This essay, The Socialist Lavatory League, could be published anywhere, and probably should be.
There is an essay on the sainted urbanist Jane Jacobs, and how wrong she was about so many things. And how she turned to neoliberalism, something a New Yorker would find impossible to believe let alone understand. But he makes the case in his usual thorough and thoughtful way, pilling no punches, but leaning left, as ever.
I do love some of his carefully curated essay titles. The New and Closed Libraries of Britain could be a tourism guide if it weren’t so unfortunately worrying. Edinburgh’s Golden Turds would attract any eyeball. My Kind of Town – Warszawa mixes oil and water. Altogether, a totally different kind of book.
David Wineberg
April 26, 2025
Mark Fisher retrospective best of its genre, cuts through a lot of the agendas which have attached themselves to his work at an alarming rate since his death. Bang on re: Fisher's late interest in strategy, he doesn't get enough credit for how prophetic he was on many things, but especially some of the oversights with the plunging wave of Anglo-American social democracy (2015 - 2019). Adam Curtis one also class.
funny to see the trajectory here, from a style that's all elbows to one that is as recuperative as it is critical. all roads lead to Raymond Williams.
funny to see the trajectory here, from a style that's all elbows to one that is as recuperative as it is critical. all roads lead to Raymond Williams.
February 28, 2022
A lot of architectural criticism and history, mixed with the ferment of the English-language blog boom when a few people - Mark Fisher, for instance, Warwick writers, and Owen Hatherley - found some solace in online community. I'll be honest, this wasn't really for me, but I enjoyed the essays on architectural comparisons (in particular, on comparing Budapest and Vienna to think through alternative 20th century histories and choices).
March 12, 2022
Not an architecture guy, so I find Hatherley's work in this area very eye opening: I still look at London differently since reading his 'Red Metropolis' a couple years ago. He's also a brilliant stylist. I was less convinced by the long essay here on the poetry of Andrew Jordan, but there's more than enough gems to make up for that, especially the pieces on Black Box Recorder, Jane Jacobs and Mark Fisher. And another new book out this year! Looks like someone was busy over lockdown.
May 27, 2022
A challenging but enjoyable and stimulating read. Some references went way above and having a dictionary handy was useful! But worth the effort and has inspired me to buy Mark Fisher’s capitalist realism.
November 18, 2021
A wonderful thought-provoking collection of essays. A treasure trove of ideas covering Pet Shop Boys, socialism, pop culture but mostly architecture
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August 18, 2022DNF
Displaying 1 - 8 of 8 reviews