Foster splits this collection into two parts, the former half largely focused on architecture theory, the latter on art theory. The title is a reference to Loos' 1908 "Ornament and Crime," which of course had the most profound influence on the functionalist movement in architecture, and the eponymous second chapter is devoted to a reading of the essay (6 years short of a century on), in which Foster seeks to deflate the definiteness of its claims (despite its polemical rhetoric) as merely an attempt to clear the ground in order to create some "running room": Foster similarly targets "design" as that concept which most easily allows art to be subsumed into the commodification circuit, and seeks to in a sense "evacuate" it in order to produce some daylight between the two domains. This is largely framed by the first chapter, which, in line with recent trends to periodize late capitalism, characterizes the postmodern as the collapse of the distinction between high-brow and low-brow in the "Megastore" through a reading of Seabrook's article on "Nobrow" for The New Yorker. However, I remain at least partially suspicious of this attempt to recruit functionalism towards this vaguely anti-capitalist project, especially as regards its framing in opposition to "ornament," for I am consistently reminded of Copjec's treatment of Clérambault in Chapter 4, "The Sartorial Superego," of Read My Desire, in opposition to Le Corbusier's modernism, also ciphered as that between a period summarized by Blondel, and one by Durand—one which sees the sensuous as feminine and thus as "naïve,... frivolous, licentious" as opposed to utility. Returning to Foster, Chapter 3 turns to Gehry, lambasting a certain "Pop-imagistic obviousness" through reading his works in the wake of Venturi, Scott-Brown, and Izenour's Learning From Las Vegas, which by now has been cemented as harbinging the advent of postmodern architecture - Foster even invokes Jameson on this point (on the deliriousness of hyperspace). Chapter 4 offers a reading of Koolhaas' 1978 manifesto Delirious New York, which he sees as splitting the difference between Gropius' Bauhaus (and Le Corbusier's modernism) and the Rockefeller Center, between European urban planning (as epitomized by the Krier brothers' insistence on it) and the populism of Venturi et al., an attempt to maintain the utopianism of the former without its elitism, the populism of the latter without its commercialism. The second half begins with a falter, at least in my reading, as Chapter 5 contends with varying accounts of art in connection with memory, counterposing first Baudelaire and Manet, then Valéry and Proust; Adorno, Benjamin, Malraux, Panofsky, Wölfflin, and Warburg enter the fray—I think the proliferation of references is disorienting for such a short piece, and the combination of philosophical, literary, and art critic figures makes for an uneven treatment, since they encounter each other on the same plane of discussion in order to be able to be made able to speak to and respond to one another, which might erase some of the distinctions between their respective fields from which they are approaching a common problem. I have similar problems with Chapter 6, moving from anthropology to philosophy to art history/theory with a fluidity that might be unbecoming to the intricacies of the epistemological/methodological differences between the disciplines. Chapter 7, meanwhile, is an extremely entertaining gossip-y retelling of the ideological divisions that permeated Artforum in the '60s and '70s, between Greenberg and his detractors, largely over his seemingly conservative insistence on limiting the canon of modernism, unwilling or unable to see the continuities between earlier supported works and later developments (most interesting for me, of course, is Krauss' contribution in the pre-October days). Chapter 8 ends with a more explicit demonstration of art theorizing in practice, with some readings of installations, alongside some ruminations on Krauss, Orozco, et al.